‘Right, guys,’ he said. ‘Aircraft here in twenty. Kev, you know what to do. Up to the landing end, take the vehicle with Mahsoud in it, and let’s get this strip lit up. We’ll take the girls with us. At H minus one you drive back down to us, just south of the pick-up point. If you need us give us a shout on the radio and we’ll be straight up there, mate.’

McMullen nodded, stepped into his vehicle and drove off towards the first two lights, which would be used by the pilot to line up his landing.

Carr and Geordie got into the other vehicle, and drove down towards the lights which marked the far end of the strip, and the pick-up point.

As he drove, Carr spoke over his shoulder.

‘Not long now, ladies,’ he said. ‘Plane’s on the way. Twenty-five minutes, and this will all be behind you.’

At the end, Carr pulled off into the desert, dismounted, and looked at his watch, for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

‘He’ll be here in eight minutes, Geordie,’ he said. ‘Let’s…’

But Skelton held up a hand. ‘Wait one, John,’ he said, nodding in the direction of Al Fuqaha.

Carr turned and raised his weapon.

‘Fuck it,’ he said, softly. ‘I thought it was all going too well.’

Chapter 111.

111.

SIX HUNDRED METRES away, and closing quickly, he saw a pickup truck, driving on one solitary sidelight.

Skelton trained his Minimi in the direction of the oncoming vehicle, and rested his finger lightly on the trigger.

‘Say the word, mate,’ he said.

Carr was silent, just watching the approaching pickup.

At 400 metres, he began to make it out better.

‘Geordie,’ he said. ‘Turn our vehicle lights on quickly.’

The big northerner ran to the Hilux and leaned in.

‘What’s happening, Geordie?’ said Charlotte Morgan, trying and failing to hide the anxiety she felt.

‘Company,’ said Skelton. ‘Don’t worry, pet, it’s all good.’

As the lights came on, Carr stepped into the middle of the road, confidently, and held up his hand.

He was working on the basis that the driver would be used to random checkpoints, and he was right.

Almost immediately, the vehicle began to slow.

It rolled to a stop a few metres from John Carr, and the driver’s door opened.

As Skelton killed the lights, out stepped a man.

He was unarmed, and his body language unaggressive.

He said something, in Berber.

‘What’s he say, mate?’ said Skelton, the muzzle of his machine-gun covering the cab.

‘Dunno,’ said Carr. ‘I don’t speak the lingo. Watch my back.’

He walked forwards, Diemaco ready but lowered, and looked into the vehicle.

He could see a woman, and two young children.

‘Hello, my friend,’ he said, in Arabic. ‘Can I ask where you’re going? It’s very late.’

Taken aback by the strange accent, the man said nothing for a moment.