‘Could just be the general unrest,’ Mallet said. ‘We don’t even know for sure that the coup has kicked off yet. Not for sure.’

‘What about those reports the major mentioned?’ asked Loader. ‘All them disturbances.’

‘Unverified. Could just be a group of rebel fighters getting ahead of themselves.’

Bowman thought for a beat, then shook his head.

‘If it was one isolated incident, maybe. But we’re looking at three separate attacks across the country. And those are just the ones we know about. Something is definitely going down.’

‘Why would the rebels start the coup ahead of schedule?’ Casey wondered. ‘Six said they wouldn’t go in until first light.’

Bowman said, ‘The Russians will have heard about Lang’s death by now. They’ll know it wasn’t suicide. They’ll assume it’s somehow linked to the coup. Which means they’ll want to speed things up. Alert their partners in the KUF and trigger the takeover, before anyone can stop them.’

‘We’ve still got time,’ Mallet replied. ‘You heard what the major said. The disturbances are in the south and west of the country.’

‘For now. Those other targets might not hold out for long.’

‘If they haven’t been captured already,’ Casey said. ‘Those reports are at least an hour old. The situation might have changed by now.’

‘Nothing we can do about that,’ Mallet said. ‘All we can do is focus on the mission.’

Bowman tensed his grip on the wheel so hard his knuckles shaded white. He looked over at the illuminated console display: 11.21. Less than forty minutes to the palace.

Not far to go now. Not far at all. In less than an hour, Bowman thought, I’ll be reunited with my old friend.

Mike Gregory had my back once.

Now he needs mine.

I just hope we get there before the rebels.

Mallet tapped out messages on the phone as they continued north towards Marafeni. He pinged off another text to Six and then Casey said, ‘We should stick the radio on. Tune in to the state radio station. Might tell us what’s going on in the city.’

‘Good plan,’ said Mallet. ‘Better than listening to Tiny’s sad voice.’

‘Fuck off, John. You’re just jealous. The ladies love a bit of the old Welsh accent.’

‘They’re not after you for your good looks or your wealth, Tiny. That’s for fucking sure.’

Mallet fiddled with the touchscreen while Bowman kept the Land Cruiser hard on the heels of the Hilux. He pressed an arrow key on the console screen, and the vehicle suddenly filled with a harsh burst of static. Mallet tapped the arrow again, scanning through the radio frequencies, found nothing but silence. They were in some sort of dead spot, Bowman guessed.