McMullen located the artery, which was clearly still intact.

Hooking his two fingers underneath it, he slowly pulled it from the wound and got down closer to look at it.

There was a tiny nick – caused by a bone splinter, or a fragment of Kadyrov’s bullet – and blood was slowly oozing from it.

McMullen turned slightly. ‘Geordie,’ he said. ‘Clamp this fucker off just above where my finger is.’

Skelton reached into the med pack, took out the forceps and clamped the artery above the wound.

McMullen taped the forceps flat to the leg and applied a first field dressing.

Then he got into the crook of Mahsoud’s elbow, found a vein – not easy, his blood pressure was low, now – and inserted a large-bore cannula.

‘Drip,’ he said.

Skelton handed down a bag of saline. McMullen attached it to the giving set, then held the drip up and watched as the saline flowed down the tube and out the end. Satisfied it was free of air bubbles, he attached the end to the cannula, and passed the bag back to Skelton.

‘Hold this up, mate,’ he said.

Under gravity, the fluid began to flow into the vein.

McMullen maintained his hold on the injured man’s wrist.

‘Come on, you fucker,’ he said, under his breath. And then, when almost half the bag was exhausted, he felt a faint spark of life return. ‘Got it,’ he said. He took a quick blood pressure reading, and then turned to the other men.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Get him back in.’

Carr and Skelton carefully lifted the unconscious Mahsoud back into the vehicle, McMullen hooked the remains of the bag above him, set the drip to a slow rate and allowed gravity to do its work.

‘What do you reckon?’ said Carr.

‘Out of my hands, now,’ said Kev, wiping his bloodied hands on his trousers. ‘The pulse is back, and he’s got some blood pressure. But he needs proper medical attention soon, or he’s dead.’

He looked at Carr.

‘Right, drop your kecks.’

‘There’s no time for that, boys,’ said Skelton.

Carr did as he was told, and McMullen crouched down to look at the injury.

‘In and out,’ he said. ‘I’ll just clean it and dress it, but you’ll be fine.’

As the Londoner quickly worked on Carr’s wound, Skelton – his eye to his sight, sweeping through 360 degrees – said, ‘So who is he, John?’

‘Says he’s SIS,’ said Carr. ‘I havenae a fucking clue if he’s telling the truth, but I do know he saved my life back there.’

McMullen applied a field dressing, and Carr pulled his combats back up.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘We need to get moving again. South, for now.’

With that he got back into the vehicle, looked across at McMullen in the driver’s seat.

‘Let’s go, Kev,’ he said.

Chapter 104.

104.