The first grenade fell twenty metres short, splashing into the soft grass twenty metres north of the mortar. The second detonated to the south, ten or twelve metres from the edge of the pit. Outside the kill radius of a Russian grenade. But well within fragging range. The force of the explosion lifted Casey off her feet and threw her to one side, spraying her with fragmentation as she slammed head first into the garden wall. She crumpled to the ground beside Lanky’s ragged body.

Mallet instantly got on the radio. ‘Alex, are you there?’

No response.

‘Shit,’ Webb said.

Mallet tried again.

Nothing.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Loader ditched the GPMG, seized his rifle and the medical rucksack dumped near the skylight.

‘I’m going down,’ he said.

He set off across the roof before anyone could argue with him. Rifle in one hand and the medical rucksack in the other. He barrelled through the fire exit, disappeared down the stairwell.

‘Patrick, get on that Gimpy,’ Mallet ordered.

Webb snatched up the spare machine gun. He swept aside a pile of rubble blocking one section of the parapet, stabbed the barrel through the hole. Bowman refocused on the battle, looking for targets.

By now the main assault was in full swing. Less than three hundred metres separated the rebels from the mansion. From the rear of the estate came the crackle of small-arms fire, and Bowman knew the enemy must have sent a force round to that side.

They’re hitting us from all angles, he realised.

We’re in fucking trouble.

Immediately below, Loader sprinted out of the building.

Then Bowman glimpsed a blur of movement to his left. He jerked the GPMG across, saw a handful of rebels in the nearest assault team rising up from the dead ground. Their rifles trained on Loader. Going for the easy kill. Bowman depressed the trigger, lighting them up. Webb gave them another two bursts with the other Gimpy. More rebels kept popping into view, firing at the Welshman as he scrambled towards the mortar pit. Loader ducked and dived across the open ground, his short legs pumping madly, the earth fountaining all around him. He neared the pit and launched himself forward, diving behind the garden wall moments before a flurry of rounds thwacked into the grass behind him.

Keeping his head below the mortar pit wall, Loader deshouldered the medical rucksack and quickly checked on the bodies.

‘One man down,’ he said via his tactical radio. ‘The lanky fella’s dead.’

‘And Casey?’ Mallet said.

‘Concussed. Taken a couple of frags in her shoulder and arm. But she’ll survive.’

‘We’re taking incoming fire to the rear,’ Mavinda screamed over the comms. ‘Rebels have cut through the fence. I’ve got three men down.’

‘Hold that line,’ Mallet ordered. ‘Major, don’t let them get near the building.’