He ensured the Glock was loaded with a round in the breach, ditto for the MP7, and he did a quick check on the optic sights, setting them to two-times magnification. He checked all his spare ammunition and placed the box of fifty 9mm rounds into a zipped pouch on the day-sack.

The satellite phone he put into the day-sack, secured within the main top-flap zip pocket.

The torch he jammed into the pen pocket on the right sleeve of his smock, and the pocket knife he tucked into the top of his walking boot, using the clip to secure it in place.

He ensured all his pockets were securely fastened and that the covert communications kit was secure and switched on, then took the tablet and tucked it into the day-sack, along with a small bottle of water which he’d already filled at the burn. He fixed the earpiece in his right ear and ensured that the covert microphone was well-positioned.

He checked his watch: almost 20:00. Perfect. That gave him enough time to advance to the cottage and get there just before last-light.

He hefted his day-sack onto his back and adjusted the shoulder straps so it was as comfortable as possible, before leaving the bothy, his shoulders squared and his jaw set in determination.

He was ready. Game on.

The cottage sat about five miles north of the bothy, which meant Tom would have to traverse the foot of Bynack More and follow the river to the forest block. He could then follow the track to the cottage. A portion of the forest that sat at the front of the cottage had been harvested, leaving it open for about two-hundred metres, which afforded plenty of cover but also good vision.

He planned to set up his initial O.P. at the edge of the cleared forest block using the wood piles as cover, which would give him a good view of the front of the building.

Tom pressed the communications pressel. ‘Pet, you getting me?’

‘Loud and clear, Tom. What gives?’

‘I’m setting off to the cottage now. Only contact me if it’s urgent, especially if Branko calls.’

‘Sure thing. Last satellite about twenty minutes ago showed no changes.’

‘Thanks, Pet. Speak later.’

He walked around the bothy to the lean-to at the side of the structure. It had been built by him and Cameron as a shelter and also as somewhere to hang carcasses after a successful shoot.

The wind was picking up and Tom shivered as it blew the cold, northern air across the plateau.

The door was locked with another combination padlock that Tom thumbed open. Inside sat a green quad bike: a Yamaha Grizzly 4500 four-wheel drive machine, the same as was often used by the military.