Until this week.

It would be to Knowles’ eternal despair that the mistake had finally come in the form of Flight PA16. Over five hundred lives lost.

It was not the trigger Knowles would have wanted. Innocent people should not have had to die to set Kirk and Dempsey on their course. But Cunningham had acted without consulting him and so Knowles had had no chance to stop it. And now that it was done, there was nothing he could do to change it.

But what he could do was to make sure that those deaths counted for something. That the organisation could claim no more lives. It was time to act. That was why he had finally risked exposure to keep Dempsey alive, by sending Eden Grace to warn him.

Grace had saved Dempsey’s life, exactly as Knowles had intended. And together they had traced this thing back to where it had started.

To Afghanistan. To Tootkai.

Only now, as Knowles eyed Jack Meyer’s pistol and Kelvin Cunningham gloated over his imminent victory, it seemed that they might already be too late.

SEVENTY-FOUR

The V8 engine of the 1979 Jeep CJ-5 Renegade roared as it pushed the heavy utility vehicle through the January snow.

It was impossible to tell if they were on-or off-road. For Dempsey, at least. With snow settled in every direction, the jeep was the only feature – other than the distant hills and mountains – that stood out in the white expanse spreading all around them.

Everything else was a blanket of soft, iced powder.

The pilot of their MH-X Stealth Black Hawk had landed on Jangi Shah’s instruction, around five miles outside of Tootkai. The appearance of a Western helicopter, Shah had explained, would both alert the Blackspear compound nearby, and potentially spook the locals.

It was a valid concern, Dempsey had accepted. And so they had taken Shah’s lead, landing where he’d advised and transferring to the jeep, which Shah had left waiting for them at his preferred landing spot.

The journey from there to Tootkai was only five miles, but it was slow, painful progress. Especially for Dempsey, whose shoulder wound was feeling every bump.

Few vehicles were made for this terrain or for these weather conditions. Fewer still were made for both.

The Renegade could just about handle the ground, but it offered no protection from the cold. It was lucky, then, that Bill Walker had provided suitable clothing for an operation in the freezing Afghan winter when he had stocked Dempsey, Grace and Shah with their weaponry.

‘How much further?’ Dempsey asked.

He grimaced in pain as another obstacle in the ‘road’ sent the jeep’s left-side two feet into the air. Once back on four wheels he adjusted his sling, checking it had not been loosened by the sudden, violent motions of the jeep.

‘Almost there,’ Shah replied. ‘When we are four hundred yards out we will park. The rest of the journey we take on foot.’

‘Got that,’ Dempsey replied. He turned towards the back seat. To Grace. ‘You doing OK?’