He let three men die because of his cowardice, thought Porter bitterly.

He let another man die inside because he didn’t want to take the blame.

And offered the choice between believing Hassad’s version of what happened and Collinson’s, then Hassad’s seem the more credible.

I always knew Collinson was a coward.

I saw it the moment he started puking up when he stepped off that Puma and into the fighting.

TWENTY-TWO

Porter was still holding the AK-47. His finger was still twitching nervously on the trigger. And the gun was still pointed straight at Hassad’s chest.

‘I owe you my life, nothing else,’ said Hassad.

‘Take me to her,’ said Porter.

Hassad remained silent. His eyes were fixed on the barrel of the gun. ‘And you expect me to help you?’

‘I’ll kill you if you don’t.’

‘You are my enemy,’ said Hassad softly. ‘I allowed you to come here because I owed you, but now that you have discovered the truth, all the debts between us are ended. And the woman dies at eight tonight.’

Porter caressed the trigger of the AK-47. ‘This gun says differently.’

‘Kill me if you want to,’ Hassad snapped. ‘If that’s what you came for, just do it, then … the woman stays right where she is.’

For a moment Porter was about to fire. Why the hell not? he asked himself. Whatever the truth of what happened seventeen years ago, Hassad was still a brutal terrorist who had tortured an innocent woman until the will to live had been drained out of her. Even if he didn’t deserve to die for killing Steve, Mike and Keith, then he certainly deserved to die for that.

His finger stopped.

I don’t have it in me to pull the trigger, he thought.

As he gripped the barrel of the AK-47, everything was slotting into place for Porter. Someone had tried to kill him back in London – someone who knew the details of the mission he was about to go on. When he arrived, he was captured by a British-led private military corporation – by someone who knew precisely where he was going, and what passwords needed to be used.

That person could only be Sir Peregrine Collinson.

Why? Because he was desperate to prevent me from seeing Hassad again, for the simple reason that I might learn the truth of what happened on that bungled mission to Beirut all those years ago.

The bastard is going to pay for that.

‘Take me to her,’ Porter growled.

‘I can’t.’

Porter stood up, and jabbed the barrel of the AK-47 into Hassad’s chest. He could feel the hard, solid muscle as he prodded it with the cold steel of the gun. ‘You bloody well can, and you bloody well will,’ Porter snapped. ‘I just want to talk to her, that’s all. I won’t cause any more trouble, not for you anyway.’

Hassad got slowly to his feet. Maybe he’s just playing me along, Porter thought. Perhaps he’s just going to walk me straight into a trap. I have to take that chance: it’s the only hope I have of breaking Katie out of here.