After he’d come a certain distance the drip from a crack in the ceiling told him he was under the lake. All he needed now was for the concrete to give way and fifty thousand tons of water to come crashing down on top of him. He hurried on, feeling small and vulnerable. Now at last his light hit solid blockwork up ahead, and he saw the twist in the shaft where it shrank in width and a steep stairway led diagonally upwards to the right.

Ben leaped up the steps three at a time and could smell fresh air coming from above. Emerging onto flat ground, he was surrounded by gnarled branches and thick foliage that filtered the moonlight into dappled patches. The mouth of the tunnel was just a short distance from the foot of the statue of Thoth, which towered above him like a giant, taller than the trees. At Thoth’s feet was the stone altar to which sacrificial victims were tethered before they met their deaths. He crept towards the back of the altar, weaving around the dying fires that gave off their last gasp of acrid smoke, and spotted the body of one of the men Tuesday had shot lying inert in the bushes. He stepped over the corpse and hurried around the crumbling stone edge of the sacrificial altar to where the woman was still hanging tethered by her wrists.

She was awake but woozy from drugs and shock. Her face was streaked with tears and her wrists were chafed from the coarse rope binding them to the steel rings set into the stone. The white dress and the side of her face were spattered with the blood of the High Priest. It could so easily have been her own, if things had gone differently. He slung the MPX behind his back and picked up the dead High Priest’s dagger. Clambered up onto the altar beside her and reached up and started sawing at the rope. Her eyes rolled and tried to focus on him, and she tried to speak but all that came out was a ragged sob.

‘It’s over,’ he told her. ‘You’re going to be okay.’

‘Am … am I safe?’

‘Yes, you’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you any more, I promise.’

‘W-who—?’

‘My name’s Ben. You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.’ The first rope parted and her right wrist flopped down. He supported the weight of her body against his own to take the strain off while he attacked the other rope. Her hair was damp with tears and blood and he could feel her quaking as she began to cry. Through the tears she managed to say her name. ‘I’m Chrissie … Chrissie Cassidy.’

‘Hold on, Chrissie.’ The second rope gave and he gently let her fall into his arms. ‘You don’t have to walk. I’m going to carry you back.’