‘Listen to me, Ben. We’ll carry you, okay, we’ll do the work. Harry and me, we’ll do what’s needed, but if you don’t go with us, they’ll send you back. Roland doesn’t have a choice.’

‘I’m not a bloody child . . .’

‘No, you’re Ben Ryder, who saved hundreds of people from being killed and for that,’ she says, holding a finger up, ‘I’ll do what it takes to keep you going.’

He flails for the right words and wants to scream that she’s got it wrong, both of them have. He did what he did in the heat of the moment without thinking, acting on instinct, but this is not his instinct. He doesn’t want to go with them. He doesn’t want to be here but he doesn’t want them carrying him either. He heads into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him, and goes through the motions of urinating, brushing his teeth and showering like an automaton before going silently into his room to get dressed.

‘You decent?’ she asks from outside his door.

‘Yeah.’

The door swings open. Safa leans through with that worried smile. ‘It’ll be a hard day but I think it will be good for you. Just say if you need to stop, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘We’ll run first then have something to eat . . . drink some water.’

‘I’m fine . . .’

‘Drink water, you’ll need it.’

He shrugs, nonchalant and unbothered. He is not here. He does not belong here. He wants to go home.

Ben follows them down the corridor and through the main room and waits while Safa stops to give Malcolm a new list of things they need. He zones out and idly looks at the way Harry stands easy, dressed in black combat trousers and a tight black wicking top like something from the SAS, but then he is the equivalent of Special Forces. He is the real deal and everything about him oozes quiet but overwhelming confidence. Safa leads them on to the external door, pausing to activate the decontamination unit, then through and out to a beautiful day of glorious sunshine that makes them squint.

‘Warm up, then we’ll stretch,’ she says, moving to the corner of the bunker. ‘We’ll use the length of the building for now. Right, steady jog up and down.’ She stays slow, trudging more than jogging, and two more times they go up and down before she gives the next instruction. ‘Heels to arse.’ She goes first, still jogging but flicking her feet up behind to touch her hands pressed to her bum cheeks. Harry gives her a look, a shrug, then sets off, with Ben bringing up the rear already feeling out of breath. The same back down and Ben is sweating by the time they reach the end.

‘Sidesteps.’

Sidesteps they do.

‘Knees up.’

‘Heels to arse.’

‘Jog normally.’