He turned to his left. ‘Kev,’ he said, ‘get back to the vehicle and get that fucking wheel changed. We need to be moving ASAP.’

The Londoner nodded, and ran off.

‘Geordie,’ shouted Carr. ‘Over here. Fred, keep your eye out, mate.’

Fred threw him a thumbs-up as Skelton hefted the Minimi and ran to Carr’s position.

‘They’re British,’ said Carr, shaking his head. ‘Pair of fucking Brummies. Search them.’

Geordie Skelton quickly searched both men, and stood up holding two mobile phones.

‘Clean apart from these,’ he said. He looked down at the two men. ‘Should have picked your weapons up, you soft twats, man.’

‘Okay,’ said Carr. ‘Get up, and sit with your backs to the vehicle.’

Both men scrambled to do as they were told.

Carr looked down at them in the deafening silence.

The smell of diesel smoke and burning rubber from the front vehicle’s tyres filled the air.

‘So what the fuck are you doing all this way from sunny Birmingham?’ he said, eventually.

‘We’re… hostages,’ said the guy in the yellow T-shirt. ‘We came out here on a religious visit, and they forced us to fight.’

‘Fucking hell,’ said Carr, with a grin. ‘You must think I come up the Clyde in a banana boat, pal. You were commanding that front truck. I’d say you’re in charge of the whole thing.’

‘We just want to go home,’ said the second man, the guy with the beard.

‘Aye, I bet you do,’ said Carr. ‘I bet you’d give anything to be mooching round the old Bull Ring now, eh?’

‘What group are you with, marra?’ said Geordie.

‘They’ll kill us if we say,’ said Beard.

‘We’ll kill you if you don’t,’ said Carr.

‘You wouldn’t kill us,’ said Yellow T-shirt, a trace of defiance entering his voice. ‘We’re unarmed. We’re British citizens, and you’re British Army. It’d be murder. We’ve got human rights.’

‘Is that so?’ said Carr, with a chuckle. ‘Have a shufti round, pal. I look to you like I give a fuck about your human rights?’

Yellow T-shirt leaned in towards Beard and said something under his breath.

‘We’ll not have any of that,’ said Geordie, leaning down and dragging the bearded guy away by his collar, and pushing him face down into the sand.

‘I’ll ask you again,’ said Carr.

‘We’re with some people,’ said Yellow T-shirt, his chin trembling. ‘But I swear, we were forced…’

‘What’s your code?’ said Geordie.

He was standing with a foot on the back of the neck of the bearded guy, and holding up the iPhone he’d taken from the other man.

‘I…’

Skelton stepped over and placed the muzzle of his Minimi against the guy’s groin.

‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Give me a fucking excuse.’

‘Zero-one-two-one,’ said Yellow T-shirt, his voice resigned.