‘Very well,’ he said. He turned back to the other men and said, almost benevolently, ‘Now tape them. This one first.’

Two of the men approached and seized Charlotte by the arms and legs, and a third began winding white duct tape around her ankles. He worked quickly and methodically, and by the time he was finished, her entire body was taped solid; a fourth covered her head, so that the only visible parts were her feet, her mouth and the top of her hair. She looked like a mummy.

During the entire time, Charlotte Morgan said and did nothing. She knew that resistance was futile, and, while her mind was reeling in panic and fear, she was determined not to show it; she would not give them that satisfaction.

When both women were taped, Kadyrov leaned forwards and spoke to Charlotte.

‘Welcome to our lands, my dear,’ he said. ‘We do things differently here, as you will learn. We are going to travel now on a journey, about three hours, to Saïdia. It’s a beautiful place, but ruined by your people. At Saïdia we will catch a boat and go back to the sea.’ He chuckled. ‘Your intelligence people, we think they will be expecting us to stay on land,’ he said. ‘But they are not so clever.’

He turned and gestured towards the Land Cruisers.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘you must be placed in the back of one of these vehicles. We have made a special place, under the seats. Because we do not wish you to perish from heat exhaustion, we have fed the cold air through it. But it will be uncomfortable. You must be careful to make no noise. If we are stopped by any authorities, you say nothing. It will not help you, anyway – even if they hear you, some of the police are on our side, some are very stupid, and the others we can either bribe or intimidate. But still, remember this: you say nothing. If you disobey, you will die.’

He looked at the men standing nearby and nodded.

They lifted Charlotte Morgan’s stiffened, mummified form and carried her to the rear of the nearest 4x4.

It had, indeed, been modified, so that a narrow channel led from under the rear compartment’s floor to the passenger seat.

They pushed her into it, head-first, bodily.

Snapped it shut.

She heard them replace the carpeted floor.

Load some bags on top.

Then nothing for quite some time.

Outside, in the warm moonlight, Kadyrov turned to Argun Shishani and sighed, contentedly. ‘I can’t believe how well things are going, brother,’ he said. ‘Ride with me.’

They climbed into the rear of the first 4x4, and a few moments later the two vehicles set off in a slow convoy.

Beneath and behind them, in the lurching claustrophobia of the Land Cruiser’s secret compartment, Charlotte Morgan was fighting an inhuman terror which was total and absolute and almost all-consuming.

It was like being in a coffin: her body touched the sides of the compartment, and her head was pressed against the end. Her nose was inches from its roof.