Home. Bloody hell, Holm thought. That’s where he’d like to be right now. Miles Davis floating through the speakers, a glass of something in his hand, a cool breeze coming in through the balcony windows of his flat.

‘Right.’ He staggered along until he was next to Javed and peered up the gully. Jagged towers of rock offered something to hold on to and provided some welcome shade. ‘Of course if someone happens to be standing at the top we’ve had it.’

Javed shrugged. Self-evident. Nothing they could do. Go on or go back. He waited until Holm nodded and began to climb.

The going wasn’t too bad to start with, but when they reached the section below the cliff face Holm found himself struggling. The rocks had appeared chunky from below, but now they were up close the hand holds were no longer so obvious. At one point he looked back the way they’d come and regretted it. Climbing down now would be next to impossible.

‘You go first.’ Javed flattened himself against a large boulder to let Holm climb past. ‘I can guide your hands and feet.’

Holm stood with one hand jammed tight in a rock crack for support. Sweat ran down his face and his shirt was sodden. If he wasn’t shot at the top or didn’t fall to his death he figured he’d have a heart attack. He nodded at Javed again, unable to speak.

After a couple of minutes to get his breath back, Holm pressed on. One step at a time, one handhold at a time.

‘A foot up and a little to your right.’ Javed’s encouragement was gentle. ‘Just below your hip.’ A nudge or a suggestion every few seconds. ‘To the left of your shoulder there’s a small ledge, see it?’

Holm nodded or grunted his replies. He focused on the rock within his immediate reach, only once making the mistake of looking down again.

‘My God!’ They were much higher now. A virtually sheer face dropping away until it met the scree slope a long, long way below. Holm closed his eyes as vertigo snatched the last of his courage from him. He imagined dropping from the cliff and falling until he was pulverised on the boulders littering the bottom of the ravine. He clutched at the rock in front of him. Wondered, perversely, how Huxtable would spin the news coverage of his death.

Stephen Holm was on extended leave and taking a walking holiday in Tunisia… he was a valued member of JTAC but hadn’t been working in the field for several years… he will be missed greatly by his family and his many friends and colleagues…

‘Boss!’ Javed snapped him back into the present. ‘We can make it. Look up!’