Jeff forged ahead up the bumpy track, nervous that the van wasn’t up to the bad terrain – but then he saw that his instinct had been right. Jeff Dekker could read the lie of the land like a professional hunter reads animal tracks. Up ahead the trees thinned out and the track led up onto the ridge of high ground that perfectly overlooked the patch of forest where Grace was parked. He skidded to a halt and killed the engine. ‘Grab that rifle, Tues. We’re on foot from here.’

Tuesday snatched the bag from under the rear bunk and followed Jeff, who was already out of the van and sprinting for the ridge. By the time Tuesday reached him, Jeff was lying flat on his belly among the coarse grass near the edge, where the high ground fell away to the wooded valley below. He had the binocs trained down the slope and had already marked his target. Tuesday dropped to the ground next to him.

Jeff said, ‘I see her. She’s making the call.’

At that instant, Jeff’s phone began to burr on silent ringer. He didn’t answer. Now it was up to Grace to leave the message that would lure the enemy into believing that she and Ben had been in contact.

‘Now if that doesn’t draw these beauties out, nothing will.’

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking?’ Tuesday asked.

Jeff nodded. ‘Yup. Time to gear up, mate.’

Tuesday could field-strip and reassemble a sniper rifle in moments, and it took him no time to snap together the Remington’s component parts. He planted the bipod feet in the loose dirt close to the edge and peered through the scope, scanning left and right.

‘Got her,’ he said as he pinpointed Grace in the high-magnification lens. He could just see her through the trees. She’d finished leaving her message, had put her phone away and was now leaning against the side of her Landy gazing anxiously around her. Tuesday mentally gauged the range at 325 metres; then he clicked on the scope’s inbuilt laser range finger and saw his estimate was off. By a whole half metre.

They waited. Two minutes passed. The enemy would be relaying information backwards and forwards. Reacting to their new intelligence. Deciding on their next course of action. Which, if Jeff’s hunch was correct, would be to take advantage of the remote forest location and make their move on Grace, quickly and efficiently, before she could leave. That would be the confirmation of all Ben’s secretive movements and proof that someone out there was targeting her to get to him.

Another half-minute ticked slowly by. Then Jeff muttered, ‘Bingo. Incoming, three o’clock. Hello, boys.’