‘The rest,’ said Katie weakly. ‘Please.’

‘May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up.’

‘Hold me,’ said Katie.

Porter leant into her, and wrapped his arms around her body. She was thin, wasting away, and he could feel the cuts and fractures and bruises that covered her skin. She was dry, like an piece of old fruit, and her limbs seemed to be rotting away. ‘I’m so scared,’ she whimpered.

Hassad stepped into the room. He glanced first at Katie, then at Porter. ‘It’s time for you to leave,’ he said, a soft smile twisting up his deformed lip. ‘Next time you see her, she will be dead.’

TWENTY-ONE

The two men walked in silence down the length of the corridor. The path was dark, and even though they were deep underground, Porter could sense the night all around them. Two guards were already in position outside the door where Katie was being held captive, and two more where the corridor hit the meeting point. They looked strong and alert, and they were well armed. Nobody’s going to try to catch a few minutes’ kip on their watch tonight, Porter decided. They know just exactly how much is at stake.

If the Regiment does try and come in tonight, it’s going to be a slaughterhouse.

Hassad turned into the next corridor, and led Porter towards his room. As he passed through the sleeping quarters, Porter could see that most of the men were resting. The lights were out and there were bodies stretched out on the floor. He could hear a couple of guys snoring. Hassad pushed the door open. There was a dim light shining from a candle in one corner of the room he had been shown into earlier. As Porter glanced around, he suddenly felt something hard stabbing into the small of his back. He knew instinctively what it was.

A gun.

He spun round. Hassad was pointing a Beretta handgun right at him.

‘What the fuck?’ spat Porter.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Hassad. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Just as long as you do what I say.’

Porter looked at the gun, then up into the man’s eyes. There could be no doubt that he would kill him if he resisted. He nodded towards a stake driven into the ground in the far corner of the room. Porter could see precisely what was about to happen. The bastard was going to tie him up.

‘My apologies,’ said Hassad politely. ‘But you are a British soldier, and we can’t leave you roaming around here all night. And you have already attacked one of my men.’

Porter kept his eyes on the Beretta as he walked towards the stake. Inwardly, he was shuddering: maybe they’re planning to behead me as well. There was no point in arguing right now: any trouble and they would probably just whack him on the head, then tie him up anyway while he was out cold. His vengeance would come later, he felt certain. The stake was a thick piece of wood, driven deep down into the floor, with about a metre protruding from the surface. Hassad nodded to him to lie down on the straw next to it, then took a rope and started to tie his foot to the stake. Next, he took Porter’s right arm, and bound that behind his back. The ropes were rough, and cut into his skin, but he had space to move and breathe, and if he curled up, he could lie flat on his side on the straw and get some sleep.