Ahead of him, less than twenty metres away now, he could see the door to the room. Would it be locked? And what if it was? Okay, sure, he could shoot out the lock, but then the element of surprise would be lost completely. Stealthily, he approached the door from the side, dropped once more to a crouch and reached up with his left hand. His gloved fingers closed around the chrome doorknob and he began to turn it. Covert single entries: always a heart-stopper. There was a soft click and he felt the catch slide out of place. He eased open the door, just wide enough to squeeze himself through the gap, then dashed through it, moving quickly to the side, minimizing the time he would be silhouetted in the space. Good. He hadn’t been seen.

Luke found himself at the end of a long corridor, exactly as the floor plan had shown. He knew where he was heading: third door on the left. It was slightly ajar and already he could hear shouts and thuds and screams – the sound of a brutal interrogation under way. He was just in time. Holding the weapon in front of him with both hands, he shouldered open the door, taking in the scene in front of him in a split second. The girl was sitting upright, her hands tied behind her, her arms and legs bound to the chair. Her interrogators were either side of her. Big, well-built men with rolled-up sleeves and black balaclavas. Luke didn’t hesitate. He shot the first in the head, then put two rounds into the chest of the other.

As both went down he dropped low, scanning the room for any other threats. There were none. He uncocked his weapon and holstered it, walking swiftly over to the girl on the chair. But she was already up and shaking off the ropes that had ‘bound’ her.