Joseph pushed the boat to water and jumped in. He was ready. He had made sure he had a faster boat. It gave him a fighting chance at least of keeping them at bay for a little while. He heard the engine pull as he chugged out of the harbour. He motored directly for The Range in the exact opposite direction to where Hamza and Emrys would be by now. They would surely pick him up. Fire a warning shot. Come out with boats. It was difficult to know. He hadn’t heard them testing at night for a while, so he wasn’t too concerned about the missiles; it was more about what they would do when he refused to leave The Range.

The soldiers approached the cottage in a Land Rover. They knocked on the door, and on receiving no answer, let themselves in. They had been given permission to enter by their commanding officer if no one was there. It was a case of national security, after all. They looked around, one of them tall enough to have to bow his head. They took in the small fireplace. The small rooms. Oppressive. Still. There was nothing they could see. They began opening drawers. Upending books. They searched with a ruthless efficiency, scattering objects as they went. Violating. Invading. Taking apart. It was not long until they found the letters. With foreign addresses, some of them in Syria. One soldier looked to the other, went to call the base on his radio, was ordered to bring the letters back immediately.

42

Watchtower ♦ Y tŵr ♦ Burj almuraqaba

THE GUARDS AT THE watchtower were immediately alerted and picked up a vessel in The Range. They scrambled the army boats and requested helicopter backup. By the time the soldiers had climbed down the ladders to their boats, the sea was heaving. The wind had picked up exponentially, skimming foam from the top of every wave. It had come from nowhere, this storm, ill-tempered and violent. They radioed back to the command tower to see whether they should proceed. They were given the affirmative.