Romeo was feet away in barely a second and closing fast. To Dempsey, he might as well have been wading through treacle. Using his good right arm, he struck out a single blow to Romeo’s throat. Perfectly placed and powerful enough to smash Romeo’s carotid artery into his windpipe, Dempsey could feel the devastating effect of the blow as Romeo’s legs buckled.

Stepping to one side to avoid the weight of Romeo’s impending fall, Dempsey moved his right hand away from the agent’s throat and up towards his left ear, gripping it firmly before bringing his own right leg high and driving it down, into and through Romeo’s left knee.

The impact halted Romeo’s stumble forward, while the pain caused him to scream out in agony.

But neither caused Dempsey to stop. With the thought of all Romeo Meyer had done still at the forefront of his mind, his right foot had barely reached the floor before his left knee drove upwards and into Romeo’s now low, prone face with every ounce of force that Dempsey could muster.

With Romeo’s ear still gripped in his hand, there was no way for the agent to avoid Dempsey’s strike; Dempsey felt his own kneecap slam into Romeo’s face, destroying bone and cartilage in one blow.

It was more than Romeo could take. He was unconscious before Dempsey had regained his footing, with only Dempsey’s grip on his left ear holding him up from the ground.

‘That’s enough, boss. He’s done.’

Dempsey turned towards the voice. It was Kate Silver. Then he looked back at Romeo. For a moment, he envisaged striking him again. A killing blow.

For a moment. A moment more and he was back in control.

Dempsey opened his hand, released Romeo’s now torn ear and turned his back, not bothering to watch as Romeo slumped face first and unconscious into the snow.

EIGHTY

John Knowles watched with interest as Kelvin Cunningham checked his watch. The deputy assistant had done the same thing fourteen times in the last twenty minutes. On each occasion he had looked increasingly worried.

There could be only one reason for the concern. Whatever was supposed to happen in Afghanistan it was due to happen now.

Knowles had been in enough time-sensitive operations to spot the signs.

He could also spot growing nerves, which was exactly what he saw on Cunningham now. His deputy assistant had been confident when gloating of his success earlier. But his body language undermined him. It suggested that his happy ending was far from a foregone conclusion.

It was the most that Knowles could expect. The odds were not as he had planned. But if anyone could overturn them, it was Joe Dempsey.

His eyes shifted to Jack Meyer, whose earlier signs of tiredness had only increased. Knowles understood why. Meyer was getting old. Already past mandatory retirement age for an active agent, he had always lacked the nervous energy that still drove Cunningham. And, unlike Cunningham, Meyer had been stationary in the same location for half a day.