Tom affected a yawn, covered his mouth with his hand, and without his lips moving said, ‘From Alpha One: you’re clear to proceed.’

He received two tones of acknowledgement in his ear from Mike or Hamed. He kept his peripheral vision on the pair as they pushed the green door open and went inside.

He transmitted once more, again with minimal lip movement and his newspaper high. ‘Package is complete, and I have the visual on the door. Stand-by.’

Tom kept up his observation of the green door while apparently studying his newspaper, the seconds ticking off in his head and his senses heightened. Mike and Hamed were badly exposed: in hostile territory, meeting a violent Jihadist, and without any secure knowledge of the target’s intent. Tom felt the comforting presence of the Sig Sauer P228 pistol in his belt and the weight of the flash-bang in his pocket. There was nothing he could do but wait.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a silver Land Cruiser pull up outside the front of the barber shop. It had tinted windows, but Tom could see the outlines of two occupants. He tried to read the registration plates, but his view was obscured by other vehicles.

He pressed the transmitter. ‘Land Cruiser outside front of shop, two fighting-age males in front seats, no registration. Be aware.’

Tom heard two tones in his ear, signalling that the Americans understood.

As he watched the car, both front doors opened and two men got out to stand outside the barber’s shop. One man had a mobile phone clamped to his ear, the other stood close by, keeping a watch on their surroundings. They were both in their thirties: one in a tracksuit, the other in jeans and a Barcelona football shirt. They had the look of hard men who had seen combat close-up. Tom felt his stomach lurch at the sight of them. There was no way they were casual shoppers; they were there for a purpose. The one on the phone had long, collar-length hair and a full beard, the other had cropped hair and heavy, dark stubble.

Long Hair finished his phone call, and the pair fixed each other with a knowing look, conversing quietly.

‘Two males on pavement outside barber’s, one in Barcelona football top, the other in a blue Adidas tracksuit. This doesn’t look right. Beware inside,’ Tom whispered, his lips barely moving. The urgency in his delivery was not matched by the calm manner he continued to outwardly project. The clock was beginning to tick faster in Tom’s head as he worked out the angles, coming up with a plan of action if the men went into the flat. He surveyed the street in front of him, seeing no other suspects, no one else other than the two who didn’t belong.

‘Alpha One received,’ replied control. ’Stand-by but do not engage unless shots fired.’