He took his binos and climbed up onto the top of the cab, scanning the whole area.

A man of average height on flat ground can see roughly five kilometres to the horizon. The atmospheric refraction generated by the midday late summer heat made it tricky to gauge, but Carr estimated that, from his elevated position of around twelve feet, and given the topography, he had maybe nine kilometres of visibility.

A vehicle doing 60km/h – top end for this terrain – would obviously cover that distance in nine minutes, though the dust of any approaching traffic would show up from further than that.

Carr wiped salty, stinging sweat from his eyes and turned through 360 degrees.

The shimmering desert – the desert fought over by his forefathers in Ralph Bagnold’s LRDG, and then Stirling’s SAS originals – was empty.

He hopped down and beckoned Geordie over.

‘All clear at the minute,’ he said. ‘Me and Kev will get this wheel changed.’ He pointed at a stony ridge, maybe two metres high, fifty or sixty metres off to the east. ‘Get Fred up on that bit of high ground with his binos and your Minimi. You back your vehicle down there, take our gun and keep an eye out as well.’

Geordie reached in and picked up the light machine gun.

‘Crack on then, mate,’ he said.

While Kev McMullen removed one of the two spares that each vehicle was carrying, and rolled it to the front, Carr started working the jack on its square desert plate, grunting and sweating with the effort in the blistering heat.

One by one, the nuts came off, burning to the touch, until Carr was able to remove the wheel with the shredded tyre.

He pushed it a few metres out into the desert and watched it fall on its side.

‘We’ll leave that there,’ he said, half to himself. ‘I dinnae think the local Kwik Fit will value our custom.’

He wiped more sweat out of his eyes, and looked up at Kevin McMullen.

‘Fuck me, it’s hot, mate,’ he said.

But McMullen didn’t reply: he was staring over Carr’s shoulder at Fred West, who was looking back at him intensely, giving the thumbs-down signal – enemy – and indicating roughly south.

‘Everything alright, Kev?’ said Carr.

‘Fred,’ said McMullen. ‘He just shouted something. His comms must be down, but it looks like we’ve got more company.’

Carr followed his gaze and dropped the wheelbrace.

Chapter 81.

81.

JOHN CARR REACHED into the rear of the vehicle cab for his body armour and equipment carrier and looked down the track to Geordie Skelton, fifty metres back by the second Hilux.

Skelton had just seen the signal and was turning his weapon to face the threat.

‘Get your kit on, Kev,’ said Carr. ‘And prepare the LAWs. I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Roger,’ said McMullen, his nerves tingling.