Huddled on a rock, trying to get warm, Nash was startled by a single thunderclap high above the escarpment. The wet was coming. Although it would buy him time, the thought of diving inside the flooded guts of the great submarine looming overhead made him feel even more chilled.

A short time later, a huge green military chopper lumbered overhead, its enormous blades threshing down a thick rain of leaves and insects. Nash was baffled. Why all the subterfuge and needless death if General Suyanto had intended flying up here in the first place? Soon, he heard the snarl of chainsaws and guessed they had lowered men to cut a landing pad. There was a break, and then the chainsaws started up again. One helicopter left, another arrived, then Sura’s Jet Ranger flew overhead back up to the cave.

All the anger and frustration at being trapped down here like an animal in a pit erupted, and he roared ‘Bitch!’ at the top of his lungs. It echoed around the sinkhole, and he yelled it again for good measure. The release of anger ignited something in his belly – a ball of radiant heat. Instinctively he knew it would need to burn a whole lot brighter if he was to survive.

There was activity above, lots of swearing in Indonesian, and then eventually a rope and harness were sent down. Nash was hauled up by a team of soldiers in red berets, who roughly manhandled him at gunpoint. He was stunned to see they had already erected a camp next to a huge helicopter gunship. In a mess tent, he was given a bowl of spicy goreng. After twenty-four hours without food, he ate fast, cooling his traumatised throat afterwards with a bottle of iced tea.

A shock of blonde hair through the fly screen drew his eye. He was already on his feet when Mia Carter was pushed inside the tent. She was in a man’s collared shirt, which was too big, and her hiking trousers were torn and bloodstained.

‘Mia!’

Her eyes lit up and he pulled her to him.

‘Oh my God, Rob.’ They embraced, and then she pulled back to search his face. ‘What happened? You look . . . different.’

‘So do you.’ One side of her face was swollen, and she had a nasty black eye. ‘Who did this – Boerman?’

A tremor of rage passed through him, and all he could think of was tearing the Afrikaner apart.

Two sweating soldiers carried Douglas in on a grubby canvas stretcher and placed him on the ground. The old pilot was gaunt and ravaged, but undoubtedly alive. Delighted, Nash dropped to one knee to embrace him.

‘Uncle Frank! I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.’

‘I have some fine fellows and this angel of mercy to thank for that.’ Douglas smiled at them both. ‘Jeez, it’s good to see you, laddie.’ The old pilot was choking up, something Nash had never seen before.