The smoke became thicker and more choking the deeper Ben ran into the building. For a minute it seemed as though Nazim had just vanished into thin air. Or had he made it to another exit and rejoined his men?

Then Ben saw the blood spots on the floor. Small star-shaped splashes, spaced a few paces apart. Nazim had taken a hit. Or else his hostage had.

Ben followed the trail, pausing every few instants to listen hard, but he could hear nothing except the tireless jangling of the fire alarm. He rounded another corner and found himself looking down a long passage filled with smoke. And he stopped, looking down. Because the blood trail had suddenly stopped, too. Like a path leading nowhere.

Or one that had doubled back on itself to deceive him.

His sixth sense suddenly tingling like an electrical field. Sensing a presence close by. Then his ears picked up a sound behind him. The scrape of a footstep. He turned quickly.

Nazim al-Kassar was standing there with his young girl hostage. Her hair was all awry, her eyes wide and rolling from side to side like a spooked horse’s. Nazim held her pinned against his body, his left hand clamped tightly over her mouth, the right pointing an AK from over her shoulder. His finger was on the trigger and his face was livid with hate.

Ben was already ducking back into the smoke. Nazim lost his aim at the last moment, but the trigger was already breaking under his finger. The rifle shot was sharp and loud in the confines of the corridor. Ben raised his pistol to fire back, hunting for an aiming point. His target was small. He didn’t dare go for a headshot, for fear of hitting the hostage. So he aimed a little wide, going for the shoulder.

And missed. But it was a lucky miss. Instead of the shoulder, his bullet caught Nazim in the wrist. Nazim let out a cry and the AK clattered from his hand. Ben moved in closer, looking for another shot. Then stopped short when he saw the knife in Nazim’s good hand, held to the girl’s throat. She wailed, ‘Mister, don’t let him kill me!’

‘Drop the pistol or she dies!’ Nazim said tersely.

‘Then you die too, Nazim.’

‘You think I’m afraid of dying? Your choice, shaitan.’

Ben lowered his pistol and let it slip from his hand. He could still hear shooting from outside. He was desperately worried for his friends out there, but he had to close his mind to it and stay focused.

‘Let her go, Nazim. Let it be just you and me.’

‘Me and you? And who are you?’

‘Just a man,’ Ben said.

Nazim spat. ‘I don’t think so.’