‘Everything depends on how many units there are this side of the river, between us and the mountains.’

‘There’ll be dozens, surely?’

MacConnachie frowned.

‘There’ll be one or two within thirty miles, and a dozen others somewhere in these hills – all within striking distance.’

‘You want to use this on your throat?’

But MacConnachie didn’t smile.

‘The most important thing is not to be seen. The choppers will be up soon. The moment they spot us, they’ve got a chance to recapture us. We must keep out of sight.’

‘How do you want to play it?’

‘If we get warning, hide. Otherwise, freeze.’

As soon as the shaving was done, MacConnachie set about his inspection in assessment of their readiness to travel. First the canteen. It was of solid construction, decorated with great elegance and in perfect condition.

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Ansell. ‘Look at that chasing round the neck.’

‘It holds water,’ said MacConnachie.

‘What is it? Leather-covered brass?’

‘Probably. The point is, it won’t reflect sunlight.’

Then the suitcase.

‘I don’t see any way to fix a strap on this. The rope’s too short, and the material’s too crappy.’

‘It’s cardboard, I think, with artificial leather on the outside.’

‘It’ll have to do. Can you repack it in some sort of order?’

Ansell did so. First he emptied it entirely. Then he folded the blanket into one long narrow strip. This he laid across the open case, pressing the centre of the material down until it was flush with the bottom and sides of the interior, the blanket ends still protruding to left and right for about a foot. Into this nest he repacked their possessions. He then turned to MacConnachie.

‘What do we wear for travelling?’

‘The Goon clobber. Pack the jackets and slacks for night time.’

But the slacks wouldn’t go in, the jackets having filled the remaining space.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ said MacConnachie, ‘we’ll tie ’em round our waists.’

Ansell finished the job by folding the blanket ends over the jackets, shutting the case and tying it tightly with the rope. Now they had only to open the lid and turn back two flaps to get at whatever they wanted.

Finally MacConnachie inspected their boots, their bodies and the gun.

Their boots were in reasonable condition. Most of the studs had gone, but neither pair was perforated at sole or heel, and in each case the uppers were firmly attached all round. They were fortunate in that, so long as the Goons had still to march them, they were forced to leave them shod. Without boots now, they would be finished.

Neither man had been deeply cut during the preceding day’s climb. They used a little water to wash their faces and hands, and trusted to luck in the matter of healing. Ansell, however, insisted on binding one of the torn-off sleeves round MacConnachie’s damaged left wrist.

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ said MacConnachie.

‘I don’t want you losing your left hand,’ said Ansell. ‘Someone’s got to carry the case and I don’t fancy it.’