As easily as the first line of security had collapsed, the second was unable to offer much resistance. After a few moments of sporadic gunfire the security men fell back and took to their heels. Not one of them made it more than a few steps before they were taken down by full-automatic fire. Dariush was yelling ALLAHU AKBAR! ALLAHU AKBAR! over and over, his eyes wild with glee and blood lust.

The young female hostage had come to her senses after the initial paralysing shock of fear, and was screaming and struggling like a wild animal. There was blood running from a cut on her brow where the crash impact had sent her flying. Nazim pounced up into the trailer, grabbed her and knocked her cold with a punch to the jaw. Jumping back down to the ground with the unconscious girl hanging limply in his arms like a rolled-up rug, he delegated his orders to his men.

‘Abbud, Zahran, Dariush, Jafar, with me. The rest of you, take the barrels from the lorry and load them onto those things.’ He pointed at the fleet of utility golf carts. ‘Make for the water reservoirs on the other side of the building. We’ll meet you there. Move, move!’

Fire had broken out inside the wreckage of the entrance foyer, which was filling with acrid black smoke. Alarms began to jangle. Nazim strode inside the building with the hostage slung unconscious over his left shoulder and his gun in his right hand.

His men followed. Their boots crunched on broken glass and left prints in the blood of the dead. At the far side of the smoke-filled reception area was a corridor with open-plan offices either side. Those employees who hadn’t already fled in panic were making their desperate escape. The terrorists shot a couple of them and stepped over their bodies without a second glance. Nazim told Abbud, ‘Your idea was a good one. If we see someone who looks like a senior manager or chief technician, don’t shoot them. We need them alive.’

Nazim seemed icy cool, but inwardly he was flushed with the thrill of battle. So much had changed since their near-disastrous start that morning. Then, he had felt the looming presence of failure so close that he could smell it. Now, victory was just inches from their grasp. It seemed that nobody had the force to oppose them.

But that, too, was about to change.

As Nazim was leading the way deeper into the building he paused and cocked an ear, listening past the shrilling of the fire alarm to the unexpected thud of a helicopter outside.

The very loud, very close thud of a helicopter.

Nazim looked up. ‘What’s that?’

Chapter 61

At times of pressing need, it sometimes pays to call on a friend for help. And that was exactly what Ben had done. Not just one friend, but specifically three.