Bowman gave them four blasts from the C8. He aimed at a third figure crawling through the next window, squeezed the trigger and got the click. He tossed the weapon aside, ripped the Glock out of the holster and put two shots into the man’s centre mass.

‘That’s it,’ Gregory hollered from the salon. ‘I’m out. Nothing left! Fall back!’

Bowman backed out of the dining room. At the rear window, Gregory retrieved a hand grenade from his pocket. He tore the pin out, posted it through the broken pane. Then he ran over to Bowman and the two men retreated towards the corridor. There was a loud bang from outside as the grenade exploded, momentarily scattering the rebels.

Bowman pushed the pressel switch attached to his vest. ‘We’re out of ammo,’ he said. ‘Down to our pistols. Rebels about to breach the back of the stronghold.’

‘Enemies are almost at the front door,’ Casey said over the team radio. ‘I can’t hold them off! Falling back.’

Bowman and Gregory ran on. They had only a few seconds before the building was overrun. Seconds to find a secure part of the building to hole up in. Retreating to the basement or the rooftop wasn’t an option. They were too far away. The atrium would be overrun with rebel fighters by the time they got there.

Gregory stopped in front of the door to the private study.

‘In here,’ he said.

They darted into the room. Gregory slammed the door shut, twisted the lock. He shouted to Bowman, and they dragged over a bulky bookcase and wedged it sideways against the jamb. The sounds of splintering glass and wood came from the other side as the rebels tried to gain entry through multiple points along the terrace and the front of the building.

Bowman stepped back. He waited in front of the barricaded door. Pistol in his hand, his clothes caked in sweat and dirt and lead particles. His adrenaline levels were through the roof. Any second now, the enemy was going to storm inside.

And then it will all be over.

‘Give us a couple of those,’ Gregory said, pointing to the grenades Bowman was carrying.

Bowman handed them over. ‘Never thought I’d die in this shithole,’ he said.

‘It’s not over yet.’ Gregory smiled grimly. ‘We can still take down as many of these bastards as possible. Let’s give them something to remember us by, eh?’

Bowman nodded. ‘I’m ready.’

They waited.

The crashing noises suddenly cut out.

Bowman stared at the closed door.

‘What the fuck’s going on?’ he asked after a few seconds.

‘Listen,’ Gregory said.

Bowman pricked his ears.

At first, he didn’t hear it. Then a sound came from somewhere beyond the walls of the stronghold. A noise that was instantly familiar to any seasoned Hereford operator. The deep throated bark of a Browning .50 calibre machine gun.