Both men were veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan, and unfortunately well-practised at placing bodies into bags.

In a matter of seconds they were back on their feet.

‘Better get them,’ said Trigger

Cummins looked down.

Two spent brass casings lay a metre or so behind the spot where Emily Souster had lain.

‘Aye,’ he said. He picked up the casings carefully and put them in another plastic bag. ‘Well-spotted.’

The final task was to ensure that no other bodies were in the immediate area.

Both men quickly conducted a swift area search, extending out a hundred metres or so, and found nothing of interest.

Back at the body bag, Cummins looked down at it.

‘Come on then, love,’ he said. ‘Let’s tek yer ’ome.’

Trigger bent down, picked the body up and threw it over his broad left shoulder with one easy motion.

Keeping his right hand on the pistol grip of his weapon, and the weapon itself horizontal and ready to fire if required, he nodded at Cummins and then followed him at a quick jog back towards the area where they had been dropped off fifteen minutes earlier.

Cummins called the other team members in, and now they were close together, kneeling in a straight line, each man covering his arc, with the body bag containing Emily on the ground behind them.

He pressed the talk button on his radio. ‘Viper, this is Zero Bravo,’ he said. ‘Ready for pick-up.’

A momentary hiss.

Then, ‘Zero Bravo, this is Viper inbound, sixty seconds to pick-up.’

‘Viper, roger, on my mark.’

Cummins switched on an infra-red strobe on the top of his helmet, so that the pilot could identify the exact location of the four-man patrol.

Out at sea, and closing in fast, Viper quickly picked up the flashing light on his night vision equipment and headed straight for it.

A few seconds later, Cummins heard the thump of the Wildcat as it raced across the open water.

Then he saw its silhouette, black against the inky blue horizon, and suddenly the sand and pebbles were being whipped up in a furious roar as the pilot put the machine down away to their right.

He looked at the cockpit of the heli with his night-sight.

The co-pilot flashed an infra-red torch to signal safe to come in.

‘Let’s go, guys,’ said Cummins, and the four of them ran, crouching, to the aircraft, Trigger again carrying Emily’s body.

No more than twenty minutes after they had first landed, the helicopter lifted off from the beach, with the team on board, and began charging back to HMS Westminster.

Some fifteen minutes later, the Wildcat landed back on the frigate, and the SBS men were met by the ship’s first lieutenant and a rating with a coolbox packed with ice.

The severed hands were transferred to the box – to prevent further deterioration – and the shell casings and wallet placed in another box.