‘I know as much as you do,’ he said, curtly. ‘Something’s happening outside. I’ve sent my best men to see.’

‘The guards at the gate?’

‘I can’t raise them. Nor the ones with the whores.’

Shishani nodded, trying to maintain some sense of authority.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Report back to me when you know…’

But as he spoke there was a loud crump from the front of the villa – Fred West’s Claymore being detonated – and the flash from the explosion lit up the house and corridor, followed a millisecond later by the sound of every window on the front elevation shattering, and then the rattle of automatic gunfire, incoming and outgoing.

Shishani had dropped to the floor, but Ayub had remained standing, and now he looked down at his dark-eyed comrade.

‘Well,’ he said, a mocking smile on his lips. ‘I think that answers our questions. We’re under attack, and someone has come for the women. Maybe you should go and get your weapon, and come with me.’

With that, he turned on his heel and stepped into the nearest room.

‘Kill them, kill them!’ he shouted, as he went. ‘Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar!’

The intensity of the firefight increased, rounds bouncing off the walls and occasionally ricocheting into the corridor, as Shishani began crawling back towards his room.

Through the open doorway, he heard Ayub shout, ‘Heavy fire, brothers, heavy fire! Ibrahim and another are moving around. Heavy fire!’

The tempo increased further still, as Ayub and the three men with him blazed away at the two shooters down below, emptying magazine after magazine.

Ayub was just starting to move forwards – he would have to risk showing himself to get a better shot – when he heard Ibrahim’s RPG7 fire.

But there was no explosion from the warhead – he must have missed – and now Ayub was a few feet from the shattered glass, and he saw the RPG detonate far off in the desert on the other side of the wall.

And then, down below, he saw a dark shadow rise.

‘Him!’ he shouted. ‘Shoot him!’

The figure below stood there, like a rock in a raging sea, rounds missing him by a few feet at most, and lifted a tube onto his shoulder.

Ayub had time to marvel at his enemy’s courage, and the time to recognise that he was carrying some sort of missile launcher, and the time to take careful aim at the man with his own AK.

He fired one shot at the man, aiming for his chest.

He was an excellent marksman, and he clearly saw the target stagger back slightly from the impact, but when he pulled the trigger again he heard the dead man’s click.

He pressed the magazine release catch out, and the empty mag clattered onto the floor. He was feeling for its replacement when he saw the flash as the 66mm rocket left the launcher.