It was all Carr could do to stop himself from dropping the bastard there and then.

But he gritted his teeth and watched on.

Clipping the Chechen now would blow everything, and they’d come too far to let emotion get in the way.

Carr was going to kill this man, he’d never been more sure of anything.

Just not now.

Shishani turned towards his guy and shouted something angry.

Carr didn’t need to hear what was said: it was obvious, as the guy threw away his cigarette, took the AK off his shoulder, and immediately tried to look a little more like a man ready to respond to a threat.

The guy on the motorbike was digging his hand into a bag slung over his shoulder, and handing something over.

Shishani said something, the guy said something back, and that was it.

Then the Chechen limped back inside the compound, followed by his footsoldier, and the gate clanged shut once more.

As the bolts were slammed home, the guy on the bike revved the engine slightly, turned in a lazy semi-circle and started back the way he’d come.

The guy on the roof, who had clearly been in some sort of overwatch role, disappeared down below again.

‘That’s the motorcyclist heading your way, Geordie,’ said Carr.

‘Roger,’ said Skelton.

Carr moved quickly back round to McMullen.

‘What happened, John?’ said the Londoner.

‘Just saw Shishani, Kev,’ said Carr, his eyes blazing. ‘The girls are there, for definite. I’d bet my life on it. No way he’d let them out of his sight. Too valuable.’

‘Fucking hell,’ breathed McMullen. ‘And the bike?’

‘Guy handed something over.’

‘What?’

‘Fuck knows,’ said Carr. ‘Winning lottery ticket, a takeaway, a secret message. Whatever it was, it’s irrelevant. The int says they’re going to move, and it looks to me like it might be tonight.’

‘That’s the bike past me and gone,’ said Geordie, over the net.

‘I just saw Shishani,’ said Carr.

‘Say again,’ said Skelton.

‘That’s a confirmed Shishani, on target.’

‘Fuck me,’ said Skelton. ‘Jackpot.’

‘Exactly,’ said Carr. ‘Get your shit together and come to us. RV in the palm grove west of target. I’ll guide you in. We’re going now. It’s on.’

Chapter 92.

92.

HALF A KLICK AWAY, back at the vehicles, Geordie Skelton felt a surge of excitement, and an irrepressible grin swept onto his face.

A metre or two away, Fred West was already pulling on a daysack containing several demolition charges, a bar mine strapped to its side just visible in silhouette.

Neither man spoke.

Neither needed to.

They were going through a well-practised drill – a thing almost of instinct, borne of years on operations. It took a matter of moments to make their final equipment checks, the last being to ensure that the ammunition belt of each Minimi was across its feed tray, the working parts pulled to the rear, safety catches on.