Opening up the kit pods they transferred their gear into the vehicles. They’d been thoroughly equipped for the mission. In addition to their personal weapons, the team were provided with Claymore mines and assorted other high-explosive devices, a heavy fifty-calibre anti-materiel sniper rifle for long range shots at enemy armoured divisions, and a Stinger surface-to-air missile launcher in case they came under air attack. The heavy weapons, rockets and grenades would be stored at the Kabul safehouse while they were carrying out their covert operations within the city.

Once the kit was all stowed, the men set about changing into the loose-fitting Afghan clothing they were going to need for the mission. Ben had the same kind of traditional shalwar kameez that he’d worn undercover back in the day, and a long black cloth neck wrap that could double as a head covering. The kameez had an opening through which he could get to his concealed pistol quickly and easily, and a loose pocket in which he could store his cigarettes. He felt pretty much at home in it.

They’d been on the ground less than twenty minutes when the two-vehicle convoy set off across the barren landscape, bumping and lurching over rocks and ruts, four men to each Humvee, a dusty and uncomfortable overland journey of several hours fraught with anxiety that the Taliban could strike at any moment, in large numbers and with extremely powerful weapons.

Humvees were sometimes claimed to be bulletproof. The fact was, as their occupants knew perfectly well, nothing short of genuine tank armour was genuinely able to resist high-velocity small arms fire. If they came under serious attack from a heavily superior force, they were fish in a barrel.

Ben rode in the second vehicle with Cale, Meadows and Dixon at the wheel. Buchanan, Simmons, Mackay and Yates were leading the way. Nobody spoke. Each man settled silently into his own private thoughts. For all their training and experience, the men’s nerves were raw and sharp, like a smell in the air. Riding into war, thousands of miles away from base, with no backup whatsoever and no hope of relief or rescue if things went bad. Ben was wishing he could have maintained contact with Linus Twigg in case they might have heard something from Madison.

The anticipated encounter with enemy patrols never happened. Once, the Humvees came within sight of a fast-moving column of armoured vehicles, a long way off. They killed their lights, rolled to a halt, clutched their weapons and watched tensely as the column continued on by and disappeared into the distance.