Two rounds flamed out of the muzzle in quick succession, thumping into Bandana’s upper chest. The lucky charms didn’t save him. His head snapped back and he did a kind of drunken pirouette before he dropped. Bowman plugged him twice more as his body belly-smacked against the blacktop.

A metre to the right, Portugal did the dead man’s dance as Mallet emptied three rounds into his stomach. The two other Boys panicked and ran towards the palace entrance. Rapidly reconsidering the power of their charms. A couple of muzzles flashed in Bowman’s peripheral vision as Loader and Webb gave them the double-tap treatment. Doing the business. Bullets thumped into Flip-Flops and Pinkie, tearing through their upper backs. The pair of them fell to the ground a few metres from the truck.

Seven seconds since the fight had started.

Four dead Boys.

Shadows flitted in and out of the trees studding the lawn at Bowman’s ten o’clock. More looters were scampering out of the palace, alerted by the sound of gunfire. They dashed out of side exits and windows, carrying strips of copper wire, light fittings and bits of furniture and laptops as they scuttled south across the compound. None of them appeared to be armed, but Bowman put an automatic burst down in their direction anyway. Sending a clear message. Stay away. The figures scurried through the gate and disappeared into the shadows.

Mallet shouted, ‘Move yourselves! Get inside! Find the family!’

The team broke forward. Casey picked herself off the ground and caught up with Bowman and Webb as they ran up the drive and past the carriage circle, making for the entrance. Mallet left them and darted over to the Hilux, bellowing orders at Major Mavinda. Shouting at him to get out and order his soldiers to throw up a cordon around the palace.

A warm salty breeze gusted in from the sea, whipping past Bowman as he bounded up the steps to the portico. Loader ran alongside his comrade, breathing hard. Webb and Casey were a couple of paces further back. Bowman could hear their equipment clinking as they raced past the dead Boys. The four soldiers ran past the columns and swept into the palace foyer. Weapons up, covering one another.

Bowman quickly orientated himself as he stepped into a marble-floored reception. There was a courtyard at the far end, he saw. Corridors to the left and right. The palace had been trashed by its latest visitors. Broken glass and spent jackets scattered the floor. Bullet holes studded the walls. Priceless artworks had been cut out of their frames. Other items had been discarded by the thieves in their haste to escape. Books, framed photographs, an ocean of paperwork, various trinkets. One or two wall lights still flickered. The remainder had been torn out of their sockets.