Despite his fatigue Ben took a long time to drift off. He lay awake long after she’d fallen asleep. A shaft of moonglow shining through the partly ruined roof cast a milky pool across her. Gently, delicately, he reached out to brush away a jet-black gypsy lock of hair that had fallen over her face. His fingertips lingered there for just a moment, caressing the peach softness of her cheek as lightly as a butterfly.

Glad you’re with me.

Ben rolled over and went to sleep.

He was up a couple of hours later to take the next watch, careful not to wake Madison as he stepped over her sleeping body. He and Wolf met outside, spoke briefly and then split up to go to their respective observation points. Ben saw no sign of movement anywhere across the vast horizon for the next few hours. So far, it looked as though their pursuers had lost track of them.

So then why did he keep getting that uncomfortable feeling, inside the part of his mind that housed his trusty sixth sense, that something bad was just around the corner? It felt like being inside the eye of the storm. One minute everything seems peaceful and tranquil and you think you can let down your guard a little. The next, all hell breaks loose and you’re right back in the thick of it again.

‘You’re just being paranoid,’ he told himself, and went back to watching.

At first light, he and Wolf left the camp and made their way on foot down to the village. Neither man had slept much, and Wolf looked as drawn as Ben felt. ‘Maddie not coming with us?’ Wolf asked casually as they crunched down the loose slope.

Ben looked at him. ‘She’s still sleeping.’

‘Oh,’ Wolf said, with a knowing twinkle. ‘Thought you two had disappeared off somewhere for a long time last night. That is to say, long enough.’

‘You can get that out of your head. She’s just a friend.’

Wolf chuckled. ‘You tell her that. I don’t think she’d agree with you. Come to think of it,’ he reflected, ‘I’m not so sure you agree with you either, deep down.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Oh, come on, Ben. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on between you two.’

Irritated, Ben was about to ask his friend what was so bloody obvious when, glancing down, he saw a brownish-green scorpion appear from under a rock dislodged by their passing and scuttle over his boot. He kicked it away and it vanished among the scrubby bushes.

‘I found one of those things in my kit this morning,’ Wolf said, eyeing where it had gone. ‘You know what they call them? The deathstalker. One tiny sting, and you’re as stiff as a board in five minutes flat.’

‘Just another reason for travelling to Afghanistan,’ Ben said.