The fireball lit up the trees all around. By the time we reached the scene the chopper was blazing from end to end. There was no chance of shifting the wreck quickly.

Over the radio I heard Pat call the Chinook captain and re-direct him to the LZ in the forest.

By now some of our guys had wrapped Pav and Toad in space blankets and sleeping bags and lashed them into nylon stretchers. There followed a desperate struggle, as relays of us carried them along the rough mountainside, bundled them over the wire and lugged them away through the forest.

Towards the end we could hear the Chinooks circling. Then rounds began to go down behind us and bullets came cracking through the trees.

By the time we reached the edge of the field we were sweating like pigs. One man, in the lead, ran out and shone a torch to bring the first Chinook in. At the same moment I heard Pat calling the second to put down an airstrike.

‘Into the trees!’ he was shouting. ‘One hundred metres west of the LZ. One hundred metres and farther.’

The air was full of the heavy, thudding beat of big rotors. Through that came the violent racket of a chain-gun, putting down rounds at an incredible speed, making a noise almost like a chainsaw.

The next thing I knew, one chopper was coming in. The pilot put his nose down right on the torch. A storm of snow was thrashed into the air by the downdraught. We ran through it with our burdens, straight up the lowered ramp. Within seconds everyone was on board and counted, and we were lifting away.

Kneeling between the casualties, I got my back to Toad and shouted, ‘Pav. It’s me – Geordie.’

When he answered, ‘Where’ve you fucking well been, you old bastard?’ I knew he was well switched on.

‘Pav,’ I said. ‘What did they do to Toad?’

‘Bolt cutters,’ he replied. ‘One finger at a time.’

‘Ah, Jesus! How many’s he lost?’

‘Dunno. Four maybe.’

‘Bloody hell. Listen, what did he tell them about the device?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Absolutely nothing. Toad was bloody brilliant.’

‘So they don’t know about Apple?’

‘Not a whisper.’

‘Thank God for that.’

Chapter Sixteen

SIXTEEN

We landed back at Lyneham to find a premier-league flap in progress. The Firm had been shitting themselves so badly that they couldn’t wait till we reached Hereford before they started grilling me. Two men had been waiting in the airport arrival hall, and within five minutes of touchdown I was speeding westwards in a chauffeur-driven Rover.