The horrific act was over in seconds. Nazim held up the captain’s severed head by a hank of greying hair, then flung it away with contempt and spat on the decapitated body slumped at his feet. A lake of blood spread around his feet as he turned to the seamen. ‘Who among you can operate a forklift truck or the ship’s cargo crane?’ Their faces were pale. They were too terrorised to protest and too appalled to speak. A couple of uncertain hands went up.

Nazim turned to Zahran. ‘Can you vouch for them?’

‘I can’t say for certain,’ Zahran replied. ‘I think I’ve seen that one drive the forklift.’

‘They’ll have to do,’ Nazim said.

‘What do we do with the others?’ Dariush asked.

Nazim smiled. Once again, the holy scripture provided the answer. When you meet the unbelievers in battle, smite their necks.

He said, ‘Cut off their heads.’

Chapter 52

The screams were drowned out by the crash of the waves as Nazim led the way down from the bridge, followed by Abbud and Zahran with the two spared crewmen stumbling along at gunpoint. Outside in the murky first light of dawn, the wind was lashing the ship with rain and salt spray. They descended the clattering metal gangways to the deck, feeling the heave and roll of the vessel beneath their feet. Mountains of containers were stacked up to form neat aisles along the length of the deck, like walking through a gorge.

Zahran led the way to where their two containers were kept. Every day of the voyage he had been making secret visits to them, making sure they were securely lashed in place, checking every inch and marvelling at the power of what was inside. He knew only that it was some kind of weapon that could bring the kuffar harbi to their knees and bring glory on the world.

Nazim had to shout to be heard above the roar of wind and sea. ‘Let’s get to work.’

The two surviving seamen were pressed into action. By the time the rest of the terrorists joined their leader on deck, the containers had been opened and their precious contents brought out. The ship’s massive Hyster forklift truck could handle loads of up to thirty tons and had no problem ferrying the wooden crates across the deck. Nazim pointed out where he wanted them set down, side by side near the stern railing above where their stolen boat was moored like a limpet to the container ship’s hull. A powerful floodlamp lit up the deck. Shaykh, Zahran, Abbud and Jamshid prised the crates open with crowbars and pulled their sides apart to reveal what was inside.

The pair of huge Lamassu were a weird, surreal sight on the deck of a modern container ship. Very few of Nazim’s men had had any clear idea of what to expect, and were gaping at the statues in amazement.