‘You’ve sure been keeping this under your hat, man,’ said Liebowitz, delighted he hadn’t volunteered for the first watch.

‘Saving it for a special celebration, mate,’ said Scraggs. ‘We’ve summat to celebrate now, haven’t we?’ He smiled at Madison.

‘Amen to that,’ said the priest.

‘Thanks, sweetie,’ Madison said, beaming back at him.

‘And I’m going to drink it,’ Scraggs added, fishing around among his kit, ‘out of my special jubilee mug.’ He pulled it out with a flourish. The decorative mug was grandly emblazoned with a picture of the Queen.

‘Please don’t tell me you’ve been toting that pathetic piece of crap all over hell’s creation,’ Baldacci said with a withering look.

‘Wouldn’t be parted from it, pal,’ Scraggs replied good-naturedly. ‘Now, cheers, everyone.’ He passed out the beers, went to hand one without thinking to Father Bugnolio and hesitated. ‘Oh, sorry, I forgot. You don’t drink, do you, being a man of the cloth and all that?’

‘Father B has been keeping us morally pure all the way from Kabul,’ Madison said.

Father Bugnolio smiled. ‘Though in this instance I believe we can make an exception. The Bible says, “Eat thy food with gladness, and drink thy wine with a joyful heart, for God now accepteth thy works.”’

‘Book of Ecclesiastes,’ Ben said.

‘Chapter nine, verse seven,’ replied Father Bugnolio. ‘You know your Old Testament.’

‘A throwback to a former life,’ Ben said.

‘And as our friend rightly says, we have something to celebrate. Therefore, I will gladly accept this kind offering,’ the priest said, taking the beer. ‘Thank you, my child. To your very good health, one and all.’ He popped the cap like a pro, raised his bottle in a toast, took a long swig and looked as if he’d received an angelic visitation. ‘Lord be praised. This is the finest meal we’ve had in days.’

By the flickering glow of the firelight and under the moon and stars they shared their various stories of how they’d all come to be here. Madison’s was all about her father, needless to say. Ben said little about Operation Hydra, and nothing at all about its purpose. Spartan, whoever Spartan was, seemed just a faraway memory to him now. He described how he’d set out alone on foot for the first part of his journey, before his chance encounter with Wolf had brought him into contact with Holt’s team.