Who was this man, people wondered. It was something Taher himself often worried about too. Who exactly was he? A freedom fighter? A religious zealot? A soldier of fortune? A thrill seeker? A psychopath? When he looked into his soul he knew there was a little of each in there, his identity a jumble of motivations. He was human like everyone else, and surprisingly, considering the number of people he’d killed, he had human feelings. Guilt, self-doubt, anger. Even, sometimes, love.

They’d followed a cattle truck for the past few miles, unable to overtake, but finally Kadri pulled off to the right and took a tiny track down to a motley collection of buildings.

‘My brother’s farm,’ Kadri said. He laughed. ‘Goods for, how you say, export, yes?’

There didn’t seem to be any animals or crops, just a main dwelling with sheet tin on the roof. An array of solar panels in a dusty field to one side. Some hefty steel doors on a brick outbuilding. Whatever Kadri’s brother farmed, it wasn’t going to end up on any supermarket shelf. Taher knew better than to ask. They were overnighting here and then Latif and Saabiq were journeying to a training camp close to the border with Algeria. Taher was heading for the tourist resort of Al Hammamet, from where a boat would take him across to Italy. He’d travel through mainland Europe and enter the UK secretly. In a few weeks, when they’d completed their training, Latif and Saabiq would do the same.

In front of him, Saabiq turned round, unease written across his face.

‘Are we good?’ Saabiq said. He nodded at the ramshackle homestead. ‘Safe?’

Taher nodded. Much as he despised Kadri, at least he knew how to stay calm. Saabiq was a worrier and worriers made Taher nervous. Latif, the other man he’d brought with him from the UK, was far more reliable.

The vehicle lurched to a stop and Kadri wrenched open the door and climbed out. He pulled the side door across.

‘I told you, nothing to it.’ He spread his arms and then pointed to the dwelling where an older version of Kadri was pushing aside a tattered curtain and waving. ‘Now we can have a beer and some food and afterwards you can sample some of my brother’s stock.’ His eyes flicked to the building with the stout doors. ‘Fresh, young, and – how do you say – tight?’

The older version of Kadri – his brother, Taher assumed – came across to help with the bags. He spat on the ground and grinned.

‘You boys up for that?’ Kadri said, laughing. ‘Some booze and some pussy? Or would you prefer a fucking prayer mat and your right hand, hey?’

With that, Kadri bellowed another laugh and turned to embrace his brother.

Taher leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.