‘Come with me,’ Ryan said. ‘We’ve got bikes to get you out of here.’

James covered the electrician. ‘Wrists together,’ he shouted, as he pulled out a set of plasticuffs. ‘Put these around. We won’t hurt you if you don’t give us shit.’

‘Where’s the boy?’ Ryan asked, referring to a lad of about thirteen who’d been running back and forth helping the electrician.

‘I think he went to the electrician’s van to fetch something,’ Sachs said, as he glanced warily at the assassin drone hovering fifty metres overhead.

As James pulled the cuffs tightly round the electrician’s wrists, Ryan saw the boy dart out from under the hut and charge towards him with a screwdriver, screaming something in Arabic. Ryan tried to kick him down, but the assault rifle and a heavy pack threw his balance and the kid somehow got the screwdriver deep into Ryan’s bicep.

Ryan roared in pain, feeling his arm lock up and his neck muscles spasm.

The boy kept running. James took aim and had a clear shot between the lad’s shoulders that would have blown his heart out through his ribs. But the electrician was yelling, ‘Have mercy for my son,’ in Arabic.

James raised his muzzle a few centimetres and sent the boy scrambling for cover with a shot that went high over his head.

‘Get back here, boy,’ James yelled, in wretched Arabic.

‘He’s just going to cuff your hands,’ Ryan added, as James fired another warning shot.

As the boy stopped running and turned, hands raised in surrender, Tovah’s drone swooped in from behind and ripped him in half with a dozen bullets. James swore furiously as the electrician started screaming. James wanted to say something, but what do you say to a man who just watched his son die? All James could do was keep rolling.

‘Bikes,’ James spluttered, head spinning as he made hand signals for Sachs and Yuen to get moving. ‘Ryan, can you take Yuen with you?’

‘Haven’t got much choice,’ Ryan said, as Lauren and Bruce came running in from the side.

‘Mercedes got away,’ Bruce said. ‘Why’d Tovah shoot the boy?’

‘How the hell should I know?’ James roared furiously. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

There were four dirt bikes hidden at the roadside. Smoke from the burning truck cut the air as James grabbed his bike and eyeballed Sachs.

‘You been on a bike before?’ James asked, as Bruce and Lauren kick-started theirs.

Sachs shook his head anxiously.

‘You let me ride,’ James said. ‘Sit up straight, put your arms around my waist. Tight, but not so tight that I can’t breathe. OK?’

‘There’s roadblocks,’ Sachs protested. ‘We’re eighty kilometres from the border.’

‘You think we’re that dumb?’ James said irritably. ‘Just do what you’re told. We need to get out of here.’