The guy who’d survived the mid-ladder encounter reached us. Not Misha. It was Volodya from the Blue team. Misha was written off. Peering over the edge of the roof, I could just make out a little dark heap splatted on the deck. At least the controllers knew what had happened. It was up to them whether or not they made any move to help him. I was pretty certain there’d be no point. No way could he have survived that impact, especially with the weight of the weapon on his back, the ammunition in his pouches and all his other gear. All I could think, selfishly, was, I hope to hell nobody saw him go past their window.

The rest of Blue team quickly came across, Whinger last. He gave me a strained look, but never said a word about the setback – just a quick ‘Idyom!’ to his guys, and they were gone, round the end of the lift-housing to the point where the emergency stairs reached the roof.

I led the two surviving members of Red team along the roof to the far end and round the corner, until we were positioned above the target windows. There we quickly laid out our ropes. We found ideal anchor-points in the form of a strong metal rail that skirted the raised top of the lift shaft, and in a couple of minutes we were ready to descend.

‘Red leader,’ I called. ‘Can I have a sniper report on the windows? Are all curtains drawn?’

Anna instantly passed the request. I heard Green come in: ‘Da, da. Vsyo,’ and in a second I got, ‘Yes, all curtains closed.’

My watch said 9.24. ‘Red leader,’ I reported. ‘Starting descent now.’

Abseiling down a building in the dark is never a picnic. Still less is it easy in a high wind. The longer your rope, the more you swing about, and the greater the danger of accidentally bumping against a window. But it was no good pissing about. I stuck my arse into space, walked backwards over the edge of the roof, and started down.

Luckily the shape of the building was kind to us. All the doors and windows were set back about a metre inside the balconies, so that as we came past each floor there was very little chance of any accidental contact with the inner wall of the building.

Inches at a time I tip-toed down the wall and dangled in space above the top half of the first balcony. On down past the metal rails. Sixteen done. Fifteen the same. Slowly on past fourteen. My two guys were doing OK, to the right and left of me. Between fourteen and thirteen a terrific gust of wind swung us so violently that all three of us bumped against each other. Luckily the windows were closed and curtains drawn all the way down, courtesy of the wild night.