‘Yank the wheel hard to your right,’ Bowman shouted at him. ‘Keep it turned until we’ve brought the truck side on.’

Bowman released the winch lever again. At the same time Pockmark spun the wheel round, turning the pickup away from the archway so that the winch hauled it in at an angle. Bowman kept winching until the technical was broadside with the arched entrance. He pulled the lever, unhooked the end of the cable from the roll bar and walked over to the truck. Pockmark dived out of the cab as Bowman clambered on top of the rear platform. He climbed over the slotted rebel next to the mounted machine gun and wrenched up the carry handle on the side of the weapon, detaching the barrel. He quickly dismantled the other working parts, the guts of the gun. Then Bowman clipped the winch hook to the bipod welded to the platform floor, hopped down from the truck, hurried back through the entrance and dumped the barrel and the other working parts in the back of the Defender.

‘Get over here!’ Bowman shouted at the soldiers. ‘Now!’

Toothbrush hollered at his men. They scurried back from their defensive positions and linked up with Pockmark beside the truck.

‘Get round to the far side,’ Bowman said, pointing to the truck. ‘As soon as I give the word, start pushing it towards the Land Rover.’

The men slung their weapons over their shoulders as they lined up along the far side of the truck. Hands planted firmly against the bodywork. Waiting for the signal from Bowman.

He hit the lever. The winch started to wind in.

‘Push! Put your backs into it!’

The soldiers shoved their collective weight against the technical. The winch motor groaned under the strain. The truck rocked heavily on its wheels. Bowman thundered at the men, roaring them on. The soldiers pushed once more, and then the pickup came crashing down, landing onto its side between the archway pillars, the exposed chassis facing out towards the clearing. The dead Boy tumbled out of the rear platform and fell to the ground in a bloody heap. Bowman pushed him aside, untied the winch cable from the machine-gun bipod, released the lever, paid in the rest of the wire, then secured the hook on the front of the Defender.

‘Push again!’ he shouted. ‘Flip it over!’

The soldiers bent to the task, groaning with the effort as they pushed against the wheels. Toothbrush urged his colleagues, they gave it one last big shove, and the technical tipped over onto its roof, crushing the dead rebel beneath it. Bowman paused briefly to admire his handiwork. The upended truck blocked the archway leading to the front drive. It wouldn’t stop the rebels from slipping through the entrance on foot. But it would prevent any enemy vehicles from bombing straight down the access road and into the estate.