‘Prepare to fall back,’ Mallet said into his mic. ‘Back to the stronghold. Josh will cover you. We’ll make our stand here.’

He glanced to his right.

‘Get downstairs,’ he said to Bowman. ‘Give the others a hand. Once you’re all inside, secure the front door. Don’t let anyone get through. We’ll defend this place or die trying.’

Bowman pulled back from the parapet. He scrambled over to the fire exit, stooping low to avoid the bullets zinging above his head. He flew down the stairs, raced across the central atrium and shouldered through the front door. Knelt beside one of the stone bases buttressing the marble columns along the porch. Brought up his rifle, pointed it through the gap between the pillars and filled his lungs.

‘Get back!’ he thundered. ‘This way!’

At his twelve o’clock, Gregory began sprinting back from the gun pit, AK-47 in his right hand. Bowman supported him with sustained bursts, engaging any rebels showing an interest in his old boss. The second guy in the pit, Toothbrush, lay motionless beside the abandoned GPMG. Gregory ducked and weaved his way across the front drive, bullets sparking against the ground behind him. Like a million firecrackers going off. He sprinted up the steps and shrank behind the pillar to the right.

‘Thanks,’ he said between ragged draws of breath.

‘Thank me later,’ Bowman replied. ‘If we ever make it out of here.’

Further away, several of the Karatandan soldiers had hastily abandoned their gun pits, sensing that the tide of the battle had turned. Some dived into bushes, others fled towards the eastern side of the estate or threw up their hands in surrender. Still Loader and Casey fought on. They were coming under heavy, remorseless enemy fire. The rebels were roughly eighty metres from the mortar pit. They were in grave danger of getting overrun.

‘Tiny! Alex! Start moving!’ Bowman roared. ‘Now!’

Loader emptied a final burst. Then he grabbed Casey by the arm and started dragging her towards the stronghold. She limped along, struggling to keep up the pace as they zigged and zagged across the front lawn. Almost at once a group of three rebels shot up from a small depression and unleashed a blitz of rifle fire in their direction. Bowman and Gregory replied with short bursts from their rifles. One rebel fighter fell backwards. His muckers hurled themselves into cover.

‘Hurry!’ Bowman thundered. ‘Come on, Tiny!’

‘To the right. The fountain!’ Gregory called out.

Bowman whipped round. He spied two rebels kneeling beside the water fountain to the north. Seventy metres away. He fixed them in his sights and fired twice, hitting one of the enemies in the guts. Gregory nailed the other guy through the head.

A grenade detonated several metres off to Casey’s right, belching smoke and fragmentation. She stumbled on, tripped, then fell. Loader stopped and reached down to help her up.

Several cracks split the air.