Roth nodded. ‘Good call, bud. This is it, all right.’

Ben said nothing as he rolled the car to a halt a distance from the wrecked gate and surveyed the scene. Other than the flames and smoke he could see nothing moving within the facility compound. The thought flashed through his mind that Nazim could have already achieved his purpose and left. Then he heard shots from inside the building and knew that wasn’t the case.

There was little time for introductions as the helicopter landed and Ben’s friends met Roth. The American’s Delta Force credentials were good enough for them. ‘Looks like the party started without us,’ Tuesday said, gazing across at the burning building. Having been thwarted in his ambitions to become the first ever black Jamaican soldier to serve in the SAS, he was the only one of the four without a Special Forces background. But his skills were on a par with anyone’s, and there wasn’t a comrade whom Ben and Jeff trusted more completely with their lives.

Now they moved fast. Two heavy holdalls were unloaded from the chopper, containing four Swiss-made Brugger & Thomet MP9 submachine guns, tactical vests with spare magazine pouches, and radios. They kitted up as the helicopter took off, blasting the ground around them with its rotors. Then the four jumped into the Alpina. Jeff took Roth’s place up front next to Ben at the wheel. Roth rode in the back with Tuesday. It was going to be a short journey. Nobody spoke. They knew what they were going into, and what was at stake.

Ben sped through the smashed gates, roared past the wreckage of the security hut and saw what was left of the man who’d been inside. Only a very large vehicle, travelling fast, could have wrought such destruction. Like a tank or an armoured personnel vehicle. But as the Alpina cut through the smoke wreathing the front of the building he could see no tank or APC inside the grounds of the treatment plant. Just a crash-damaged articulated lorry with its cab doors hanging open and the shutter rolled up on its empty trailer. Dead bodies littered the compound. None of them were Nazim’s men.

Roth leaned through the gap in the front seats and pointed a finger beyond the building towards the heart of the treatment plant. ‘The motherfuckers are already in. Keep moving, bud.’

Ben didn’t reply. He put his foot down and tore through the curtains of smoke and across the compound, rounding the side of the burning building.

‘Watch it!’ Jeff said.

Ben had seen it, too. He braked to avoid the industrial utility cart a few metres ahead. It looked as though it had been making its way towards the complex of reservoirs and ancillary buildings when it had broken down. The bullet holes in its plastic bodywork were a clue as to why.