They trudged up the gorge in the rain and darkness, and the grenade seemed to grow heavier with every step. The big man led them alongside the river bed, now knee-deep in storm water run-off, with the guards bringing up the rear, but what Nash needed was a tight grouping. And what then? After pulling the pin, would he have three or five seconds? And how exactly did you even pull the pin? Wasn’t there a safety catch? He considered taking the grenade back to Douglas – it would be perfect for taking out the crowded mess tent – but the bulge looked like a baseball in the pocket of his soaking pants, and they always searched him before letting him get back inside the tent.

As they clambered up to the ledge to the cave mouth, the rain-streaked Jet Ranger appeared mournfully out of the gloom. What had Sura said just before he came in? I will fly the first load down tomorrow and send Ricki back for the second.

Nash’s mouth went dry as he understood what he needed to do.

After the driving rain, it was eerily silent inside the Hoosenbeck Cavern. A silence loaded with threat. Nash fancied he could feel the vibration in the rock beneath his boots, of all those hidden tonnes of water flowing through the exit passage.

While Boerman shone his torch on the ledge they’d used as the entry point, Nash removed the roll of cord from the bag and transferred it to his pocket. The knowledge of what he was about to do made every movement feel artificial, and he was sure the guards would read his intent like a book.

‘It’s come up at least a metre.’ Boerman sounded worried. ‘What now?’

‘Carve depth marks on the timber,’ replied Nash. ‘Then stack rocks around it, so it doesn’t float away.’

Boerman stared at him incredulously. ‘We came all the way up here for that? Why the fuck would you bother, when one of these dickheads can simply stand here and watch?’

It was completely unnecessary. But Nash had guessed rightly that Sura would go for any semblance of control, and take comfort in measured increments.

He shrugged. ‘You want to go back down there and tell her, then?’

Angrily, Boerman picked up the length of timber from the ground and pulled out his combat knife. As Nash turned to go, he snarled, ‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’

‘We need rocks and they’re outside.’

‘Tinggal bersamanya,’ Boerman snapped. Stay with him.

It was clear the Kopassus troopers didn’t take kindly to receiving orders from a foreign mercenary who referred to them as dickheads, nor did they fancy another drenching in the pouring rain. While they sheltered in the mouth of the cave, Nash located a large rock and carried it back inside to dump beside Boerman. After his third load, the guards lit up cigarettes and Nash seized his chance.