‘It’s bloody good to see you, Josh. You look well.’

‘You too,’ said Bowman. ‘Shame it’s not under happier circumstances.’

‘Yes.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Still, I’m glad you’re here. Nothing like the sight of one of my old B Squadron hands to warm the heart. How is your sister these days? Hayley, isn’t it? And your niece?’

Bowman stared at him in amazement. But he shouldn’t have been surprised. Gregory had always taken a keen interest in the lives of his men, Bowman reflected. Unlike some of the Ruperts, he’d displayed a genuine fondness for the soldiers under his command.

‘Fine, thanks,’ he said. ‘They’re just fine.’

‘So you’re with the Cell these days,’ Gregory said. ‘John’s unit.’ Bowman nodded. ‘I’m pleased for you. I always rated you as an operator. One of the toughest guys I ever had the privilege to fight alongside.’

‘Thanks, Mike.’

Gregory attempted a slight smile. ‘Perhaps once this is over, I can convince you to come and work for me. I could use a good man to help run this show. And the money’s good. Very good.’

‘We’ve got to survive the next few hours first.’

‘This rebellion won’t last,’ Gregory replied darkly. ‘The rebels might be winning right now, but once the reinforcements arrive, we’ll put the bastards to the sword. Then we’ll round up the ringleaders and teach them a lesson they won’t ever forget.’

‘And the Russians?’

‘They’ll abandon General Kakuba, once they realise the game is up. Mark my words. No one will dare to challenge Mr Seguma in the future. I’ll make damn sure of it.’

There was an icy coldness to his voice that surprised Bowman. In the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Major Mavinda shifting uneasily on the spot. The Karatandan officer seemed almost wary of Gregory. Which struck Bowman as unusual. He remembered, too, the apprehensive look he’d seen on the major’s face in the palace basement when Bowman had mentioned Gregory’s name.

What’s he afraid of? Bowman wondered.

Mallet hung up and strode back over to the group. He looked worried. The skin was pulled so tight across his face it looked like it might snap. He cleared his throat.

‘That was Six,’ he said. ‘We’ve got a problem.’

‘What is it?’ Loader asked.

‘They’ve heard from the base in Tripoli. The strike force is running behind schedule. One of the Hercs went tech before take-off. Some sort of engine trouble, they reckon.’

A frigid silence descended over the room. Casey looked startled. ‘When did they leave?’

‘Two hours ago. Just after two o’clock our time.’

Bowman checked his G-Shock: 04.09. He thought: It’s a six-hour flight from the squadron base in Libya to Karatandu. Which means they won’t land in-country until around eight o’clock.