Hostages were escaping from the hall through the kitchen. The main doors to the right of the south window burst open. More military personnel sprinted in. Max saw Hector, Woody and Angel, their eyes burning, their hair dishevelled. But they hung back as two men in helmets and protective clothing sprinted up to the recruits who were pinning T7 to the ground. One of them carried a square box on his back with two antennae – Max knew that this was a mobile phone jammer, in case anyone was using a phone to detonate any devices – but neither appeared to be armed. ‘EOD – Explosive Ordnance Disposal! Keep that kill switch down!’

One of the EOD guys knelt down and leaned over T7, who was struggling harder than ever. It took all of Max’s strength to hold him down as the EOD guy removed wire cutters and traced one finger along the cables spewing from T7’s vest. He was clearly deciding which one to cut. The SAS men were closing in now, not on T7 but on Sami, whose face was sweating.

‘Lower your weapon!’ one of the SAS men shouted.

Still Sami refused. For a dreadful moment, Max thought the SAS team would open fire. But then he heard Hector bellowing across the hall. ‘Assault team, stand down! Assault team, stand down! That’s an order.’

The SAS men looked uncertainly at each other, but they followed the instruction and lowered their weapons. At the same time, the EOD guy shouted, ‘We’re clear! The device is neutralised. It’s safe to release the kill switch.’

Only then did Sami lower his weapon. He was breathing heavily and his shoulders were shaking. Max turned his attention to Abby and Lili. They were looking anxiously at each other. ‘You sure?’ Abby asked. ‘Now’s not a good time to make a mistake …’

The EOD man held up a wire leading from T7’s vest. ‘It’s disconnected,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’

Abby inclined her head, then nodded at Lili. Together they released the kill switch. Nothing happened.

Max exhaled slowly. He released T7’s arm. The terrorist had gone limp, as if all the fight had left him. Max moved his hand up to the terrorist’s balaclava. T7 didn’t fight when Max peeled it from his face.

T7 was young. Not much older than Max himself. There was a whisper of unshaved hair on his chin and cheeks. He was very pale.

Max became aware of Sami standing over them. ‘I hope you see your brother again,’ Max said quietly. ‘If you do, it’s him you have to thank.’ He pointed up at Sami.

T7 looked at them. A sneer crossed his face. He spat at Max.

Max stood up, shocked. One of the SAS guys pulled him and Sami back.

‘That’s gratitude for you,’ Max said.