A shard of RPG steel had sliced open his neck – how the hell he’d managed to get off the shots he had Carr couldn’t work out, but thank God he had.

‘Shit, mate,’ he said, closing his friend’s eyes.

He got back to his feet, and, as he did so, he felt a sharp pain in his right buttock.

He knew instantly that a sliver of shrapnel from the RPG that had taken Fred out had hit him, too.

He pulled off a glove and felt round. His combat trousers were damp with blood, but it felt like a flesh wound.

It could wait.

He got on the net.

‘Kev,’ he said, ‘I need help. Fred’s down.’

‘How bad?’ said McMullen.

‘Bad.’

‘Roger. On my way.’

Back at the vehicles, Kev McMullen turned to Geordie Skelton.

‘Hear that?’ he said.

Skelton nodded.

‘Watch your back,’ said McMullen.

Slinging a trauma pack over his shoulder, he set off back into the palms.

Carr had moved back towards Zeff Mahsoud, and now he was kneeling beside him and feeling the wound on his leg.

Kev McMullen came running in and quickly took in the scene – Fred West lying on his back, some big Chechen dead a short distance away, and Carr leaning over a third man off to the right.

He spent a few moments with Fred, but it was clear that there was nothing he could do.

He went over to Carr, who was pulling a tourniquet tight on the third man’s upper thigh.

‘Fred’s gone, mate,’ he said.

‘I know,’ said Carr.

‘Who the fuck’s that?’ said McMullen, nodding at Mahsoud.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Fuck him,’ said McMullen. ‘Leave him and let’s go. Won’t be long before people start showing up here.’

‘I’m not leaving him,’ said Carr. ‘He saved my life. Get Fred and start moving back towards the vehicles.’

‘Okay,’ said McMullen. ‘But we need to fucking go, John. Now.’

Carr hefted Mahsoud onto his shoulder, McMullen did the same with Fred’s body, and the two men began moving back toward the vehicles as quickly as they could.

Geordie Skelton watched them come in through his night-sight.

Once there, Carr took out a set of plasticuffs and bound the injured man’s hands – there was no point in taking any chances, no matter how out of it he looked.

When that was done, he turned to Skelton.

‘Help me get this guy in the back of my vehicle,’ said Carr. ‘We’ll have a proper look at him once we get clear.’

‘Who is he?’ said Skelton.

‘Tell you later,’ said Carr.

They slid the injured man into the back seat of Carr’s Hilux, as McMullen placed Fred in the front seat of the second truck and belted him in.

Charlotte – sitting in the rear – leaned forward.

‘He’s dead because of us, isn’t he?’ she said, her voice trembling.