‘Not yet,’ Bravo mutters pointedly, tapping on the screen of the tablet held in his hands before freezing to sniff the air. He turns to Charlie on his left then Delta on his right, sniffing through the balaclava covering his face.

‘Him,’ Alpha says, nodding at the man on his knees. ‘Pissed himself.’

‘Please . . . I’m begging you . . .’

Bravo tuts and steps away to stop the puddle of piss reaching his boots.

‘Done it?’ Alpha asks again.

‘Not yet,’ Bravo mutters again.

Hans Markel thought he was a tough man. He was in the army. He served in conflict zones. He was versed in weapons and tactics and was security-minded. His home was secure. The locks were solid. The windows were triple-glazed and the alarm system was state-of-the-art.

‘Done it?’ Charlie asks.

‘Nope,’ Bravo mutters, tapping away.

‘Please . . . I have money . . .’ Hans sobs. On his knees in his bedroom. He has no idea how the five black-clad, balaclava-wearing men got in his house, only that they did. He’s already told them what he knows, that the twelve men were hired for a prototype detention centre, that three were dead on arrival at the clinic and three more died soon after. Hans has already told them two men and a woman beat his twelve men in an underground bunker. One was called Harry. They were English. The woman was very attractive.

Now he doesn’t know what they want. Only that four of them are waiting for the fifth to write something on the tablet device.

Alpha sighs and adjusts his grip on the pistol held at Herr Markel’s head. Bravo is the best at this but he takes so long. Alpha sighs again and casts a look at Bravo, who pauses, cocks his head to one side then carries on tapping. Charlie exhales noisily. Delta taps his foot. Echo looks round at the room. Bravo tuts at them trying to rush him and continues tapping for a few more minutes while Hans sobs and begs for his life.

‘Done,’ Bravo says, looking up and round, and although the thin black material of the balaclava covers his face, they all know he is looking smug and satisfied.

‘Finally,’ Alpha says, lowering the pistol. He looks down at Hans and switches to fluent German. ‘Herr Markel, do you want to live?’

‘Yes!’ Hans gabbles urgently. ‘Yes . . . anything . . . I have money . . .’

‘This,’ Alpha says, nodding at Bravo to hold the tablet screen so Hans can see it, ‘is a legal authority from you for your six men to be transferred to a state-of-the-art private facility where their medical treatment will continue. We need you to sign it.’

‘Yes!’ Hans blurts, nodding eagerly while shuffling towards them on his knees through the puddle of urine.