‘What about air support?’ Bowman asked.

‘I’ve asked the question. It’s a hard no,’ Mallet said. ‘Nothing in the area. No fast air. It’s just us.’

‘This op just keeps getting better and better,’ Loader grumbled.

‘We’ve still got the upper hand. We’ve got the high ground, the hardware. A few hours from now, D Squadron will fly in and roll through the enemy.’

‘As long as they get here before the KUF, I’ll be happy. General Kakuba sounds like an evil bastard.’

Mallet said, ‘We’ve had no reports of KUF paramilitary activity in the area. As far as we know, the only rebels nearby are the Machete Boys.’

A few minutes later, the first pale glimmer of light fringed the horizon. Gradually, the darkness lifted. Bowman sipped coffee and glanced round the estate. He could see the ground to the west more clearly now. The distant trees resolved themselves into a dense palm grove. There was another grassy field to the east of the stronghold leading towards an orchard. He saw the blackened stumps of burned-down trees and bushes at the front of the mansion. The thick woodland a hundred metres north of the clearing. In the far distance he spied a chain of hogbacked hills shaped like the knuckles of a clenched fist, silhouetted against the lightening sky.

A minute passed.

Then another.

Then Webb said, ‘I’ve got movement.’

‘Where?’ Mallet said.

‘The farms across the main road,’ Webb replied.

‘Rebels?’ asked Bowman.

‘Civilians. Unarmed. Men and women, some kids. A big group of them.’

‘What are they up to?’ asked Loader.

Webb said, ‘They’re running into the interior. Moving fast. Looks like they’re expecting trouble.’

‘They must know something we don’t,’ Loader said.

‘It’s the rebels,’ said Bowman. ‘They must be on the way.’

‘Why aren’t these people staying hidden indoors?’

‘This isn’t a spectator sport, Tiny. They won’t want to stick around when the shooting starts.’

Mallet tapped his pressel switch. ‘Mike, Alex, Major. Heads-up. The locals are scarpering. We’re about to get engaged.’

Webb kept the AWC trained on the ground to the north of the mansion. The others scanned the flanks and rear. Bowman tightened his right hand around the GPMG grip. The pain between his temples had faded. He wasn’t thinking about the pills anymore, or how long until his next hit. Every fibre of his being was concentrated on the imminent battle.

Then Webb said, ‘Enemy movement. On the approach road. There’s a technical with them. Coming this way.’

‘Move!’ Mallet shouted.