There was a further exchange and then all three men came back into the room once more. Boris hefted the MP7 and pointed it directly at Tom.

‘Stand up!’ he commanded. ‘Now listen and listen well; we’re all going to take a little drive. We’re going in your Land Rover. If you resist, I will shoot the lady first: do you understand?’

Tom nodded. ‘Where are we going?’

‘That doesn’t concern you. If you cooperate, then no one will be harmed. If not, it will be bad for you. We will shoot your mother in the stomach and torture your father and make you watch.’

Boris was good: Tom had to give him that. He was careful to never get within grabbing distance and he kept the MP7 trained on him throughout. There was simply no opportunity for Tom to try to disarm any of their captors. The Branko brothers kept Cameron and Shona in a similar manner as they all made their way out of the farmhouse.

Tom was positive they had no intention of going for a drive. It was rather the case that they didn’t want to shoot them in the house, leaving unnecessary evidence of their demise behind. He figured they planned to create just enough breathing space to get out of the country, once he and his foster family were all dead. Try as he might, he couldn’t figure any way in which he could overpower the three of them. Shona and Cameron were shackled, as was he. He began to face up to the fact that this might finally be it. He didn’t fear death, he never had, but he felt desolate for Cameron and Shona. They were good, honest people who didn’t deserve this.

‘You don’t have to do this, Boris. Kill me but leave them alone, they’re innocents,’ Tom said in Serb as they came to the front of the house.

Boris didn’t take his eyes from Tom’s, keeping the MP7 pointed at him, a cruel smile splitting his face. ‘Shut the fuck up. There is nothing for you to say right now. Just know that, if you try anything, then your family will suffer. Cooperate and you will all die quickly and cleanly.’

Tom took a strange comfort from the sunlight warming his back as it rose above the horizon behind him. He had spent so much time in deadly situations in foul weather, so he found it oddly pleasing that he would die with the sun warming his body. He took in the vast expanse of forest, the huge Scots pines swaying in the now gentle breeze. If he looked left, he could see the jutting peak of Bynack More. The air was sharp and clear with the usual distinct smell of pine in the air and he breathed in deeply, drinking it in like a fine wine. There are worse places to die, he thought.