Charles had studied maps the previous evening, so was ready for when a track edged up a hillside and disappeared though a canyon. He took the right turn and within minutes we were back in the wilderness. A river wound its way through the valley beyond, twisting and turning with the contours of the land. We abandoned the Cherokee where the trail ended and set off on foot, carrying our H&K MP5A5’s ready. Rink took point and I brought up the rear, with Harvey and the two Jungla troopers spread out between us.

The going was slow, the trees hemming us in, the rumble of the river making it difficult to hear anyone approaching. Everything was green and wet. Beneath the green the glistening darkness could have hidden an entire squadron of soldiers. It had been some years since I’d engaged in jungle warfare, but the lessons had stayed with me. The trick is to look beyond the darkness; use your peripheral vision, which is better at picking up movement than looking directly. And remember to check above regularly.

We walked for hours.

The terrain was constant: high valleys and trees, the river a grumbling companion. It was easy to be lulled into a sense of security by the tranquility of the forest or by the river’s hypnotic music. But we were all on high alert. Without exception we were thrumming with anticipation. We were now within hailing distance of our enemies.

Hector Nunez called a halt and we huddled in a ring, each watching over our opposite’s shoulder for anyone moving in on us.

Nunez pointed to the cliffs on our left. “Beyond that ridge, we will find a trail that leads down into a valley. The house is directly below it.” He spread a diagram swathed in clear plastic on his thighs. Pointing to hand-sketched symbols, he indicated the house and outlying buildings. There was a clear space beyond them and the broken lines of a road coming from the opposite end of the valley. “Sentries will be posted here,” he said, placing his finger on the map at the far end of the road, “and here on the cliffs surrounding the buildings.” This time his finger danced over four different locations. One of them was directly above us.

“Do we dare take out the ones up there?” Rink nodded up at the towering ridge. The boulders looked ragged and had been invaded by growths of vines and trees that prickled with sharp thorns. Rink looked like he was upset that he wasn’t going to get the chance to scale the cliff. “If they’re in regular contact with the others, we risk giving ourselves away.”

“We need to set up from other vantage points,” I said. “Near enough to the sentries that we can take them out when the time comes.”

“No problem.” Rink nodded satisfaction. That was his kind of work.