They started to move towards the corner of the building which would lead them around to the servants’ quarters, but they’d taken only a few steps when West detonated his Claymore, showering them in a lethal hail of molten steel.

Two were killed instantly, eviscerated by the fragmentation, but the third, almost unbelievably, was left unscathed. Skelton tracked the man with his muzzle as he turned and ran back into the building, but he was unable to catch up with him before he vanished.

‘Lucky fucking bastard,’ breathed Geordie.

Both he and Fred – moving to whatever new cover they could find – began to fire deliberate, aimed bursts through the windows, trying to keep the men inside on the back foot.

It seemed to be working – the incoming was patchy and sporadic – until they were lit up by a long burst from an automatic weapon coming from the villa.

It was inaccurate, but it was close enough.

‘Where the fuck’s that come from?’ shouted Skelton.

‘I didn’t…’ said West.

But then there was a second burst, closer this time, and he saw a hint of muzzle flash from one of the upper floor windows.

The fucker was keeping his weapon in the room, and firing from depth – he knew what he was doing, but it also made it difficult for him to locate Skelton and West, and so he was firing blind.

Fred West put a long burst into the room, and the shooter quietened down.

And then the weight of the enemy fire dramatically increased again.

It was coming from several of the ground and upper floor windows, and was clearly concentrated and controlled by someone who was giving commands, and was no fool.

It was inaccurate, mostly smacking into the wall high behind them, but both Geordie and Fred recognised it immediately for what it was – an attempt at suppressive fire, intended to force their heads down.

That could only mean that other fighters were going to try and flank them.

Geordie heard Carr’s ‘Jackpot, Jackpot, Jackpot’ call over the net at exactly the same moment that he saw movement at the left-hand corner of the building in front of him.

As the tempo of fire from the building increased again, two men stepped out from the corner.

One began firing at Geordie Skelton, close enough that he heard the whine of the rounds passing his head.

The other had something long over his shoulder, and now he levelled it at the two Britons.

‘RPG!’ shouted Geordie, firing a sustained burst at the men.

He hit them both, but not before the RPG man pulled the trigger on his weapon.

Geordie saw the blazing, firework trail of the warhead as it left the tube and started towards him, almost in slow motion at first, until the warhead suddenly seemed to accelerate.