As the photograph that had been messaged to Tom showed Cameron and Shona in the kitchen, he was going to assume they were still there. It was cold and the smell of wood smoke in the air indicated that the log burner was lit, as the central heating in the property was not efficient, to say the least. The kitchen was a double-aspect room with windows at the front and rear, which gave Tom options he was grateful for.

The farmhouse was accessed by a half-mile track of compacted earth and type one shingle that had to be regularly replaced when the heavy rains came. It was the only dwelling for miles and its isolation was complete and reassuring in good times.

As expected, he could see Cameron’s old battered Land Rover at the front of the house and a smart, black Mercedes M-Class SUV parked next to it. Raising the MP7 night-sight he could easily pick out the license plate in the greenish gloom: the number was the same as Pet had dictated to him earlier.

Just another half-an-hour now, he thought. Last-light was approaching, and it was time to go to work.

28

He remained statue-like for the next thirty minutes as the last of the light ebbed away. The wind picked up, gusting hard, and he felt a few specks of rain. While he didn’t welcome the discomfort of being wet, the extra concealment that poor weather offered would be helpful. In his Marine basic training, much of the efforts of the staff were geared to getting the recruits wet, cold, and miserable. Not out of any sadistic urges, but to reinforce the need for them to learn to look after themselves in poor conditions and yet still be operationally effective, no matter how bad the weather. It was impressed on them that often the difference between good soldiers and great soldiers was who could operate in harsh environments.

He started to feel the cold seeping into his bones and decided that it was time to move forwards and across to his CTR location. He back-crawled to the cover of the log pile and stood, shaking the stiffness out of his limbs. From his day-sack he retrieved his fleece pullover, stripped off his combat smock and pulled the fleece over his head. He quickly zipped his smock back up and resettled the day-sack on his back.

He moved carefully and slowly in a half-crouch between the areas of cover, picking points ahead of him to move to, taking him closer to the house in a clockwise direction to give a better viewpoint of the side of the property. As he moved, he stopped frequently to use the night-sight to check the farmhouse for any signs of movement.