Carr sent an acknowledgment, and Kevin McMullen appeared at his elbow.

‘John, here you go, mate,’ said McMullen, handing him a hot brew, and a boil-in-the-bag sausage and beans. ‘Heard back from London?’

‘Yeah,’ said Carr. ‘Whoever the fuck he is, they want him back in one piece.’

‘You trust them?’

Carr’s mind travelled back a few months, to Justin Nicholls sitting in his flat in Primrose Hill.

Guy de Vere – one of Carr’s oldest friends, from way back in 3 Para – alongside him.

Nicholls knowing full well the vengeance and mayhem that Carr had recently wreaked across the Irish Sea.

And protecting him from any fall-out.

‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I do.’

He took a sip of the scalding tea. ‘Fuck me, that tastes good,’ he said. ‘You squared away?’

‘Yep.’

‘Okay,’ said Carr, ripping open the steaming food bag. ‘Go and relieve Geordie. Tell him to come straight in. Don’t be chatting up there.’

As McMullen grabbed his kit and headed up towards Skelton, Carr walked back over to Charlotte Morgan.

She was back in her sleeping bag, huddled close to Martha Percival.

Martha seemed to be asleep, but Charlotte Morgan watched him coming.

Carr looked down at her. ‘Mahsoud lives,’ he said. ‘So you can stop worrying.’

She relaxed, visibly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It was a silly thing to say. I’d never have done it.’

‘We all say stupid things now and then,’ said Carr. ‘Want a drink?’

He held out his mug.

‘What is it?’

‘Tea.’

She took it, and sipped at it, before pulling a face and handing it back.

‘Horrible,’ she said. ‘How much sugar’s in that?’

‘Three,’ said Carr, with a laugh. ‘Geordie will make you one without in a minute.’

‘How long will we be here for?’ she said.

Her eyes were wide and, with the adrenalin gone, she looked exhausted. For the first time, in the early dawn light, Carr thought he could see fear on her grimy, sweat-streaked face.

‘We need to lie-up here for a bit and call in our extraction,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be home soon. How you feeling?’

‘Not great,’ said Charlotte. ‘And I smell like a farmyard. But I’m more worried about Martha.’

‘Let her sleep,’ said Carr. ‘When she wakes up, keep talking to her. Let her know she’s safe. She’ll get taken care of as soon as we get back.’

The young woman nodded.

There was a noise behind Carr, and he turned to see Geordie Skelton jogging down from his stag position.

‘How, man,’ said Skelton. ‘Give us a swig of that brew. I’m fucking gagging.’

Carr tipped the rest of the tea down his throat, and smacked his lips.

‘Make your own, you lazy fucker,’ he said, with a chuckle. ‘Make one for the girls, and another for me while you’re at it.’

‘Fuck me, Carr,’ said Skelton. ‘All these years and I’m still your brew bitch.’