A flash of light erupted from the back door as it was opened by someone from within, who then stepped out onto the back path. The flare from the overexposed light made him shift his eye away from the night-sight as the individual slowly walked down the path. Tom adjusted the scope to take account of the extra light emanating from the doorway. The figure walked slowly onwards and then another burst of light, magnified by the image-intensifying properties of the scope, blotted out his view briefly. It settled, and Tom realised that the individual was lighting a cigarette as he ambled down the path in Tom’s direction. The man was clearly not aware of his surroundings and very tactically unaware: no professional would paint such a big arrow on their face by openly smoking in an unknown environment. He increased the magnification on the scope and focused on the figure’s face, which he did not recognise.

The man was wearing a light-coloured, hooded sweatshirt, and light trousers; he was shaven-headed and of powerful build and walked in the graceless way of a seasoned bodybuilder. His face was etched with a bored scowl as he stood and smoked on the path, staring mostly at his feet but also glancing around at his surroundings. It didn’t appear to be any type of patrol or check for anyone, it was simply a smoke break. Tom smiled to himself and wondered if Shona’s aversion to smoking had forced the kidnapper to smoke outside in the cold. Shona was no shrinking violet and Tom couldn’t imagine her allowing anyone to smoke in the farmhouse, whatever the circumstances.

The light at the doorway flared once again as another man came to the threshold and seemed to shout at the smoker, who turned to face him. Smoker walked back to the door and handed the cigarette pack over to his colleague, who cupped his hands to his face as the sight flared once again with the lighting of the cigarette.

Tom zoomed in on the pair as they smoked and chatted, an opportunity forming in his head. If there were only three kidnappers then he could take out sixty-six percent of their manpower with just two silenced rounds, leaving him only one other to deal with. Those were odds he would take any time.

He quickly weighed up all the implications in his mind, a clock beginning to tick in his head as he did so.

If he took them out now, he would then have fifty metres to cover to get to the house, which would take at the very least thirty seconds bearing in mind the terrain and fence at the boundary. He also didn’t know for sure that there were only three opponents. He needed more information and more intelligence to come up with a plan. There had been one smoke break and logic said that there would be others. He had time: the longer it went on, the more likely that the Serbs would relax, offering a greater element of surprise.