That would allow him to blow it remotely, now, which might be very useful if they found themselves having to leave in a hurry, or wanted to add to the confusion and chaos that they were about to unleash.

As Geordie closed the gate behind him, sliding the bolt back into place, Fred quickly dragged the body of the guard a few metres away, into the darker shadow at the base of the wall. To a casual observer, there would be nothing untoward at the front gate: everything now was about buying a few seconds before the inevitable happened.

If they could, they’d get in and out without firing another shot, but they all knew that life wasn’t like that.

They were about to have a fight on their hands.

All four men now went to ground, scanning their arcs, ready to start that fight.

It seemed like an eternity since the gate man had unwittingly allowed his killers entry, but in fact no more than a minute had elapsed.

And now, above the sound of the generator, Carr suddenly caught the sound of the guy’s laboured breathing from a few feet away where he lay, his blood staining the sand black.

Then he groaned, softly.

‘Fuck,’ Carr said to himself.

He stepped across, placed the barrel of the Diemaco against the man’s forehead, and put him out of his misery.

I bet you didn’t think you’d end up like that sixty seconds ago, pal, he thought. Funny how life turns out, eh?

He turned to Fred West and gave him the thumbs-up.

West moved forward and around to the left of the villa. There he went down on one knee, placed his Minimi down close at hand, and removed the bar mine from his pack. He placed it alongside the wall of the villa, opposite the generator and its fuel tank, grinning to himself as he activated the RC receiver for the detonator.

Second device activated and in place, and that one would be awesome when he detonated it – the walls would contain the fearsome blast of the 8.4 kilograms of RDX/TNT, designed to take out a main battle tank, and kill or seriously fuck up anyone inside the villa on that side.

As an added bonus, it would set the generator fuel tank on fire, and generate a massive fireball which would create further pandemonium.

West almost chuckled.

Finally, he checked his transmitter – full charge.

Happy, he doubled back, crouching in front of the villa.

He removed a Claymore from his pack and set it down five metres from the front door, at an angle of forty-five degrees.

He’d thought about a tripwire, here – catch any bastard who came running out looking for trouble – but, as Carr had pointed out, they couldn’t rule out the possibility that the women were inside, and that the wankers would hustle them out that way.