Then they were off again, leaving the ruins of the temple behind and roaring off into the night. Ben was back at the wheel, navigating the dark wilderness with no lights and only the pale glow of the moon through the heavy, dark clouds to go by. From higher ground they could see the lights of the troop convoy like a long spangled snake curving its way across the rocky valley far to their rear, falling steadily further away with every minute Ben kept his foot to the floor, every jolt over the brutal terrain bringing more groans and moans of complaint from the jostled, crushed passengers. The enemy was always one step behind. And Ben meant to keep it that way – preferably two or three. But the presence of perhaps hundreds of Taliban fighters in the area now meant that their base camp was no longer a safe refuge, either. The moment they reached it, the now significantly more numerous group would have to be on the move again, travelling hard and fast in the hope they didn’t encounter more enemy troops. Though they were still free for the moment, it felt as though a ring of steel was slowly, inexorably closing around them.

Ben was acutely aware of the prince behind him in the back of the Humvee. In all the hurry to evacuate the temple, he and Wolf were the only members of their group to have learned the real identity of ‘Captain Warner’. He wondered what the reaction would be when the others found out. Driving on through the darkness he reached again for his cigarettes. Only three were left now. He wasn’t a superstitious man, but in his grim state of mind it seemed like a bad omen. What happens when the last one’s gone? he thought to himself.

One way or another, that time was coming, and he’d find out the answer.

Within an hour, the Humvee crunched to a halt at the camp and was met by a crowd of anxious faces. Wolf had already radioed ahead to say they were en route, and to get ready to pack up and go.

‘Who are all these people?’ Madison asked, staring at the strangers as they came limping and stumbling out of the vehicle.

‘Lord, they are in a terrible state,’ said Father Bugnolio. ‘We cannot possibly expect these poor souls to travel any further, in their condition.’

‘They’ll just have to lump it,’ Wolf told him. ‘Or else I’ll shoot them myself. That’s kinder than what the Taliban will do, if they catch up with them.’

‘God protect and preserve us from evil,’ the priest muttered.

‘Who needs him?’ Wolf laughed. ‘Not when you’ve got Ben Hope watching your back.’