He thought it was pointless. The SIM would be destroyed if he succeeded in his mission. And he would not fail. But he’d been told to do it. So he did. He never questioned the Mahdi. No one questioned him.

He unzipped his backpack, reached in and pulled out a two-litre container that he had filled with liquid. He twisted the lid off, picked up the shattered phone and dropped it in. He screwed the lid back on and put the container – with the useless iPhone now at the bottom – back into his bag.

‘What about the pills?’ his companion asked. ‘He said we had to take the pills. It will make it easier.’

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a white plastic pill bottle.

CONTROLLED DRUG – POSSESSION WITHOUT AUTHORITY ILLEGAL

DEXTROAMPHETAMINE SULFATE 5mg

TAKE ONE A DAY

They both swallowed five before removing their black hoods.

DESPITE the sixteenth-century Church of Saint Étienne being the oldest Catholic institution in the small suburban town of Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray in northern Normandy (home to 30,000 people), waning attendance at mass had been a problem for years and the church was generally only well attended for the occasional funeral or wedding. But Father Bisset had managed to draw a full house for mass on this bright May day, largely due to the changes he’d been making to the service over recent months. With permission from the local diocese, Bisset had scrapped the traditional Latin Mass and replaced it with a French-spoken, more family-friendly service. A number of the older parishioners had resisted the changes, but Bisset had been adamant that the church had to adapt to stay relevant and survive, and the parishioners came around when they started to see the pews filling.

Bisset looked out at the congregation – children, young mothers and fathers, the future, in other words – then left the sacristy and made his way to the altar. He noticed a couple of men he didn’t recognise sitting close to the aisle in the very last row of pews. He may not have even spotted them had it not been for the morning sun streaming through the oversized stained-glass windows and lighting up the pair’s closely shaved scalps like light bulbs.

White robes flowing, modernised missal in hand, Father Bisset climbed the three steps to the altar, the congregation quietening down as he did so. He paused for a moment of silent prayer when he reached the predella, and then turned to face his people.