Instead, all along they’d been looking for this guy. For Spartan, the mystery man whose real name had been such a closely guarded secret by the instigators of Operation Hydra – and yet whose identity had somehow, thanks to some internal leak, betrayal or intel slip-up, managed to become known to the opposition. The magic ticket that had allowed Ben to enter Afghanistan wasn’t just the highest priority of the British government spooks. He was the enemy’s Number One target, and for a very good reason.

For once, the logic of officialdom was so clear and understandable that all Ben could do was smile and shake his head. Who could blame the Whitehall suits for falling over themselves to scramble together a top-secret mission to locate and extract the errant Prince Richard, the youngest of his royal generation, fourth in line to the British throne? A mission so extremely hush-hush that it had to be entrusted to the likes of Colonel Carstairs, his shadowy Group 13 associates and their man in Kabul, Lewis Goffin.

They must have been in a complete panic, Ben reflected. And they were damn right to be. If allowed to fall into the Taliban’s hands, the young prince would be the most valuable and most sought-after hostage in the history of modern warfare. There was no limit to the sensational amount of international media publicity that his capture would generate. And there was nothing, literally nothing, that his delighted captors couldn’t demand in exchange for his safe return. Whitehall would gladly turn over half the UK treasury in ransom, along with a signed treaty promising that the Brits and their allies would forthwith and forever give up any designs on reclaiming Afghanistan for themselves. Maybe they’d give the Taliban the keys to Buckingham Palace while they were at it. And that would be just for starters.

All these thoughts whirled through Ben’s head in an instant, while the young prince formerly known as Captain Warner frowned at him in the darkness. ‘What’s “Spartan”?’ the prince asked, quite innocently. Stuck out here totally incommunicado these last several weeks, he hadn’t known a thing about it.

‘You must have imagined there would be a bit of a flap going on behind the scenes, with you missing in action,’ Ben said. He’d recovered from his initial surprise now, leaning his back against the wall to light his cigarette. ‘Spartan was your codename, the sole objective of Operation Hydra. You’re the reason I’m here.’ He might have added, ‘And you’re the reason why Jack Buchanan, Bob Meadows, Pete Dixon, Will Yates, Rick Mackay, Mark Simms, Steve Cale and several of their loyal Afghan backup team are lying dead in the dirt between here and Kabul.’

But the prince had other things on his mind anyhow. ‘“Spartan”,’ he muttered. ‘Bloody stupid name. Like “Warner”. You’d think they might try and come up with something more inventive and interesting.’