‘Working Two, taking fire from the east! Three or four shooters! Working One is down, repeat Sean is down, multiple GSW! Request urgent rein—’

The words stopped, cut off by a grunt that could only mean one thing. Simultaneously Mickey heard the short burst that silenced her. And realised that the only way to break the ambush was by driving past the wreck of SEG One. Risking automatic weapon fire and the likelihood of running over fallen riders. Risks, given the lack of options, that had to be deemed acceptable.

And then the last part of the trap closed. The loitering van, having accelerated across the roundabout, braked to a halt alongside the wreck of SEG One. Turned at the last minute, putting its nose over the pavement and wheel against the kerb. Preventing it being pushed backwards by superior horsepower. And thereby closed off the only remaining escape option.

Wade looked at him questioningly, selector in Drive, ready to floor the big V8. But lacking any clear exit from the ambush’s box. Mickey’s attention was caught by a flurry of motion on the Sentinel’s right-hand side. Both men watched helplessly as another black-clad figure emerged from the cover of a bus stop and sprinted at the two remaining cars.

SEG Two’s crew alert and ready. The two remaining outriders with their Glocks drawn. Four expert shots opened fire on the attacker before he could even get into his stride. Hitting him with a hail of 9mm. He staggered and fell. A wire trailing from his right hand to the bulky bomb vest encircling his torso. Dead man switch.

The slabs of explosive strapped to his body detonated. The blast slamming into the Sentinel like an open-handed blow from an angry god. A storm of shrapnel raked the street, the blast blowing in every window for fifty yards.

The last two outriders went down instantly. The Jag was battered sideways, landing on deflated tyres and bursting into flames. Its occupants either dead or beyond assistance. The Sentinel’s offside windows were suddenly milky and opaque, bludgeoned by a dozen shrapnel strikes and more. Mickey and Wade abruptly barely able to see the burning car to their right.

As the explosion’s pall of smoke and dust cleared, Mickey knew what the attackers’ plan was. Trap the convoy, preventing the target from escaping. Creating a kill box for the suicide bombers to scour with flying metal. While the shooters waited around the corner in Fulham High Street. Ready to close in for the coup de grâce. Sustained fire into the Sentinel at close range to defeat the armoured glass that was its weakest point. That, or perhaps an anti-tank rocket or limpet mine. Delivering a shaped charge warhead that would punch through the armour and incinerate its occupants. And without an escape route, their options were down to one.

Attack.

He nudged Wade with an elbow. Pointing to the ruins of the bus stop.