James considered this as Tovah started the engine and pulled off. He wasn’t an expert on Syrian ethnicity, but knew that most of the refugees camped in northern Turkey were Kurds, and since Zahra and her brother had been with Islamic State, she most definitely wasn’t.

‘We can’t leave her here,’ James told Kyle, before dashing across and grabbing Zahra’s arm.

The girl looked back, frightened and uncertain. Two strange men with assault rifles and body armour, marching her towards a waiting minibus, as Tovah roared off in the truck. She seemed better when she got inside and sat next to Bruce. Ryan was the only one who spoke good Arabic, but he was sprawled out in the rear, babbling.

‘I should have worn the stabby vest,’ Ryan said, grinning. ‘I’m sorry, James Adams. Mr Mission Controller … Sir, yes sir!’

‘Gave him a morphine shot for the pain,’ Lauren explained, clambering into the driver’s seat, as James pulled shut the sliding side door. ‘I’ll drive, if we’re all in?’

‘Sure you’re a good enough driver?’ James teased, as he took the front passenger seat.

‘Oh you’re witty,’ Lauren said, feeling more like herself now that she was among friends and had stuff to do. ‘According to the mission plan, there’s a private clinic five kilometres from here. Twenty-four hours, with doctors that speak English.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ James said, looking behind as Lauren hit the gas pedal. ‘Everyone else OK?’

Sachs and Yuen nodded happily. Bruce and Kyle were stripping off weapons and body armour. Zahra didn’t look too bad for a kid who was in a strange country, with strange people, including the one who’d shot her only living relative two hours earlier.

James opened the glove box and was pleased to find British diplomatic passports, for everyone except Zahra. Plus a plastic wallet containing a selection of mobile phones and personal effects that they’d abandoned before setting off the day before.

After taking his phone and passport and passing the wallet back to the next row, James dialled the control room on campus. John Jones answered.

‘We’re all out, one moderate injury and we picked up a stray,’ James said. ‘We’ll take Ryan to the clinic. How’s our ride out looking?’

‘RAF have a jet on standby in Cyprus which can be with you in ninety minutes,’ John said. ‘Now Sachs and Yuen are safe, I’ll contact MI5. Hopefully Uncle and his associates will be behind bars before he hears about the rescue.’

‘Nice,’ James said, as Lauren turned the minibus off of the unfinished highway, pulling into a tight gap on a busy local road. ‘You might as well get that plane dispatched from Cyprus. I’ll stay back here if Ryan needs to stay in hospital, but there’s no reason everyone else can’t head straight home.’