He returns to his room and tries suppressing the emotions. Just do what she says. He tugs the tracksuit off and starts getting dressed. Just do what she says. Trousers on. Shirt on. Belt through the loops but he leaves the shirt untucked and starts pulling his new black socks on. Do what Safa says. The boots are weird with side zips and laces made of strange material that he guesses isn’t flammable or likely to break.

‘The trousers are too short,’ he says, stepping into the main room with the bottom of his trousers an inch above his boots.

‘No,’ she says as Harry grins. ‘They’ve got tie bottoms,’ she adds.

‘What are those?’ he asks.

‘I’ll show you.’ She drops down to his ankles and feels for the bottom hem of the trousers. ‘See this?’ she says, tugging a thread of material out to the side. ‘Two of them. You pull them to tighten the bottom of the hem but they go inside the boots.’

‘Oh right,’ he says, staring at the top of her head and noticing her hair is now tied back in a ponytail held secure with a torn-up bit of grey tracksuit. ‘I always thought they just tucked the trousers into the boots.’

‘Prevents the material from snagging on anything,’ she says, working to tighten them. ‘That’s it, let’s have a look.’ She stands up and steps back, giving him an appraising look. ‘Very good. Feel alright?’

‘Blurgh,’ he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

‘You’ll wear it all in,’ she says. ‘Ready?’

‘Blurgh,’ he says again.

Eighteen

Eighteen

It looks enormous. It is enormous. The grain of the wood shows clear from the base of the stock to the underside of the long metal barrel.

‘That for me?’ Harry asks, picking it up from the table. That the rifle is for him is beyond doubt. Ben watches him slide the bolt back and check through the barrel while getting the balance and weight of the weapon. Harry grunts in approval and pulls the bolt back several times to feel the action.

‘Winchester Magnum four five eight bolt-action hunting rifle,’ Safa says. ‘They make bigger and more powerful now, but I figured you’d be used to something like that. Apparently it’s big enough to bring an elephant down with one shot.’

‘They weren’t elephants,’ Harry mutters, holding the rifle one-handed while he opens the cardboard box containing the huge brass bullets.

‘Well, we’re a bit short on tanks right now,’ Safa says, picking up the holster containing the squat black Glock pistol.

‘What’s that?’ Harry asks, nodding at the pistol in her hand as she checks the weapon.

‘Glock. Nine mill.’

‘That bring an elephant down too, will it?’

‘No, but I’d be on my arse if I fired that thing,’ she says easily, glancing at his rifle. ‘I’ll need to practise before I use something like that.’