They climbed back into the Fiat. Hassad had taken the wheel, explaining that he knew the roads better, and was less likely to attract attention from other drivers. As they’d left the old woman’s house, they had borrowed a burka for Katie. It covered up her face effectively, and it made sure no one would recognise her as they drove towards the border.

It was close to mid-afternoon. After an hour’s drive, Hassad had suggested they stop for some food, and wait for darkness. They were fifty miles from the Israeli border by now, and Hassad was convinced they needed to plan their breakout. The strip of land between Lebanon and Israel was used by Hezbollah to launch its rocket attacks on its neighbour. The territory was swarming with fighters, making it one of the most heavily militarised places on earth.

‘Where’s the best place to get through?’ asked Porter.

While they were still in the van, Hassad pointed to the map the driver kept on the front seat. ‘Here,’ he said.

Porter glanced down. Beit Yahoun. It meant nothing to him.

‘Never heard of the place,’ he said.

‘It’s a border village, and one of the main crossing points between Lebanon and Israel,’ said Hassad. ‘There used to be about ten thousand people living there, but the place has been shelled to bits over the years. There are about a thousand people there now, and most of them are soldiers.’

‘Can’t we sneak through somewhere a bit quieter?’

Hassad laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious again. ‘Quiet? On the Israel–Lebanon border?’ He shook head. ‘There is no such place. Every inch is heavily fortified, and if the soldiers see you, they shoot you on sight. That goes for the Israelis as well. They see us coming through the wire, they’ll open up their machine guns, and worry about who the hell we are later on.’

‘And you think this Beit Yahoun place is safer?’

‘There’s a demilitarised zone of about a mile, a bit like the no-man’s-land that used to exist between the Berlin Wall and the West. There isn’t much trade or traffic that goes between Israel and Lebanon, but what there is, mostly goes through there. Get into the no-man’s-land, and we should be able to walk through to Israel without being shot.’

Porter glanced around. ‘Then let’s go,’ he said.

‘Not yet,’ said Hassad.

Porter checked the time. It was just after four in the afternoon. The execution was scheduled for eight, and he’d have wanted to get Katie out of this hellhole long before then. ‘When?’ he snapped.

‘We have another fifty miles to travel, and the roads aren’t great,’ said Hassad. ‘Plus there are roadblocks to get through. It will take us about six hours. We stay here about two more hours, and travel when it’s starting to get dark. It’s safer that way.’

The time passed slowly. They stayed in the van. Porter managed to buy some more painkillers, and swallowed most of the packet. They would make him feel drowsy, and slow his reaction times if they came under attack, but it was better than the terrible pains that were still throbbing through his jaw and up into his head. Porter tried to nap. Sleep was impossible, however. He was too wired up. Another few hours, he told himself. Then I can get Katie out of here, deal with that fucker Collinson, and start getting on with the rest of my life.