Baldacci let out a snorting, devil-may-care laugh. ‘And all especially just for us. Makes you feel kinda warm and gooey inside, don’t it?’

‘We’ve seen worse odds,’ muttered Scraggs. Then added under his breath, ‘Though I’m fucked if I can remember when.’

‘It’s no less than we expected,’ Ben said. Then why had his mouth suddenly gone dry and his heartbeat stepped up a notch?

As they watched, the long line of vehicles came rolling over the plain, on a course parallel with the river, until it swept around in a curve past the abandoned village and up the hillside towards the escarpment. It was obvious that they knew exactly what their objective was. Halfway up the slope, about level with the ruins of the orphanage several hundred yards from the foot of the escarpment, they dispersed into a spread-out battle formation and rolled to a halt.

The fanciest of the technicals, a muscular black off-roader with jacked-up suspension, light bars and a heavy machine gun mounted behind its cab, positioned itself in front of the line. Ben fine-focused his binocs and could see a tall, lean man standing on the pickup bed by the rear machine-gun emplacement. His beard was long and black, like the robes he was wearing, and a black turban covered his head. He held himself proudly, like the commander Ben guessed he was.

Now the commander pulled a radio handset from his robe and held it to his ear. The enemy might have been keeping strict radio silence on their approach, but they had clearly been listening in and knew what channel to use. The commander’s voice came crackling over the speaker, speaking excellent English.

‘My name is Muhammad Omar Nabi. Let me speak to your officer in command.’

‘Mine is Hope,’ Ben replied, keying his talk button. ‘You can talk to me, if you want to discuss the terms of your surrender. Otherwise, don’t waste your breath.’

Nabi laughed, a rasping creaky sound over the radio. ‘You are funny, Hope. But soon you will not be making jokes. You have only one chance to avoid being slaughtered like dogs. That is to hand over your Spartan to us.’

Spartan. The intel had obviously been every bit as compromised as they’d anticipated. Not entirely unexpected, but it came as a shock nonetheless. Ben covered up his dismay and said, ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree there, my friend. There is no Spartan here. Just a few members of a volunteer non-combatant aid organisation. Wondering to what we owe the honour of such a large and impressive turnout. We’re no threat to anyone.’

‘I am not a man who plays games,’ said Nabi. ‘We know who you are. And we know he is with you. You have only two choices. Resist and you will die. Hand him to us, and we will let you live.’