No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than the engine note screamed suddenly louder, and the aircraft banked aggressively to the port side.

Up and down the length of the interior, men stumbled into each other and battled to stay upright.

Arnold, the netting wrapped tightly round his left his wrist, looked immediately towards the cockpit, as the loadmaster shouted over the roaring turboprops.

‘Sit down, sit down, everyone get your belts on!’

The team were quickly into their seats, and Arnold was moving as quickly as he could to the front of the aircraft, struggling against the angle.

He pulled his way inside as the aircraft levelled out, and put on a headset and pressed the talk switch.

‘What’s up, Stretch?’ he said.

‘Abort signal,’ said the pilot, his eyes fixed ahead but his voice calm.

‘See anything on the ground? Any tracer?’

‘Nope, but I’m not fucking landing until I get a green, now.’

Chapter 113.

113.

ON THE DESERT floor below, John Carr heard the sound of the aircraft’s engines grow suddenly much louder, as the pilots threw the throttles forward a second after Geordie’s flare exploded.

He sensed the giant Airbus banking left, and roaring off into the empty desert to its holding pattern.

The man in front of him ducked in confusion, looking upwards for the aircraft, blinded by red light.

Then the initial brightness died away, and the glowing flare started drifting slowly back to earth on its parachute.

‘You won’t harm my family?’ said the man, now looking a good deal more nervous.

‘I give you my word,’ said Carr. ‘But please, you must do as I ask.’

‘Okay,’ said the man.

‘Follow us,’ said Carr. Over his shoulder, he spoke to Skelton. ‘Geordie,’ he said. ‘Get in the back of the truck and be ready to light this guy up if he looks like doing anything silly.’

Skelton clambered up into the flatbed of the Hilux and trained the Minimi on the Berber’s pickup.

Carr climbed into the driver’s seat, and slowly led the man away and up to their other vehicle.

When they arrived, he dismounted and walked back to the Berber’s truck.

It had to be thirty years old, and was covered in rust and bodged repairs.

It was driving on one sidelight because the other lights were fucked.

Which gave Carr an idea.

‘Forgive me,’ he said, leaning in next to the man, and shining a torch into the cab.

He saw an elderly AK47 propped up next to the woman.

Nothing sinister in that: everyone carried some form of protection out here.

‘I must take your gun away for a few moments,’ said Carr. ‘And also the keys to your vehicle.’

The man began to protest, but Carr patted him on the shoulder.