He passed the day in the gym and then went back to his solitary cell after dinner and watched the sun set, the night bringing only darkness – no mail, no messages. He barely slept, tossed and turned, a million scenarios running through his head.

But now a guard was here. ‘Come on,’ he urged Jax. ‘Let’s go.’

Jax looked at his watch before getting to his feet.

10 am, 25 NOV.

BRIEFCASE closed, arms folded and wearing a smile, Clarke was already in the room when he arrived. The transformation in Clarke’s face was remarkable: his eyes were clear, his skin flushed with a healthy daub of pink, and there were none of the previous physiological signs of stress. Jax did note, however, that Clarke appeared to have been particularly busy: his crushed clothing, face stubble and scent of body odour smothered by too much deodorant were sure signs that the agent had not been home.

‘Good news, I take it?’ Jax asked as he sat down.

‘Yes,’ Clarke replied.

Jax listened and Clarke spoke, the agent telling him the Terror Twelve were the group behind the six international attacks known as the Church Bombings. That a joint CIA/ASIO task force had tracked and destroyed the Terror Twelve’s two remaining cells and moved all surviving members of the organisation to a secure location for questioning.

Jax had a million questions. So much didn’t yet make sense. Not without all the details.

But he knew better than to ask.

JUST after lights-out, he made sure the corridor was empty then pulled out his smartphone. The prison was quiet, not yet asleep. But that didn’t matter. Not now. He wasn’t a suspect. They had the men responsible.

Or so they thought.

He smiled, delighted with himself. He tapped his way across the screen.

Username: mahdi_93/241. Password: Hewillrise_85/159.

He raised his brows when he was denied. Wrong password. He was so excited that he’d been typing too fast. The prospect of the live feed had his heart racing and his stomach full of scampering bugs. His hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and this time used only his index finger to type.

Username: Mahdi_93/241. Password: Hewillrise_85/159.

A capped M, not an uncapped m. Got it.

He would not be denied. Not now. Not ever. Only the disbelievers would be denied. He would be the first to touch His outstretched hand.

He opened his internet browser and logged into a fake but secure WhatsApp account created specifically for that night. He had already activated the cell, sending the deposits: $0.61, $4.04, $5.55 and $9.82. He’d also given them their instructions when they called: where to obtain the gun, what to do with the seller and, finally, what time they needed to be in place to make the final call.

His burner phone flashed at 10 pm +44 7346 984 325 appearing on the screen. It was 11 am, 25 November, in Salisbury, England.

‘Greetings, my child,’ said the Mahdi. ‘Are you in place?’