‘Others know about this, know we’re here, know you were instrumental in leading us to Taher. They’ll be able to work out what happened.’

‘Nice try, but you didn’t tell anyone. You were too scared about blowing your chance at catching Taher off your own bat.’ Palmer laughed. ‘Not duty or loyalty to your country, was it? Vainglory, that’s all.’

‘Martin—’

‘Enough,’ Palmer said. ‘Let’s go back outside. You’re going to be part of history. Your names alongside Hope’s.’

Holm slowly pushed himself up. Their last chance would be on the way back to the veranda. He let Javed go first, thinking perhaps the young lad could make a run for it. They walked from the kitchen along a narrow corridor, bright sunlight at the end where the corridor joined a small inner atrium. As they crossed into the atrium a voice shouted out from one side.

‘Stop there. And put your hands on your heads.’

Silva had slipped along the corridor and crouched behind a large carved wooden box. Then she’d waited. A minute slipped by and then another; then through an arch to her left she saw two men emerge into the glare of the courtyard.

‘Stop there,’ Itchy said. ‘And put your hands on your heads.’

The next few moments passed like lightning. As Itchy stepped forward to cover the two men, a shot rang out from the darkness of the arch. Itchy collapsed to the floor, his hand to his right leg.

‘Drop the fucking weapon!’ A tall thin man emerged into the courtyard. He had an AK-47 in his hands and his finger tightened on the trigger. Itchy was half slumped on the floor, one hand on his knee and the other holding the SIG. ‘Now!’

Itchy nodded and the gun fell from his hand, clattering on the floor.

‘Stephen, kick it away!’ The thin man thrust his own weapon towards the older man and made a sweeping motion. ‘Do it!’

Silva knelt hidden from his view behind the box, but she had direct line of sight to Itchy and the other two men. The older man moved his foot next to the gun and, as he did so, his eyes flicked to her hiding place. For a moment he hesitated, but then he kicked the gun and it slid over the floor towards Silva.

‘I’d say we’re another step closer to solving this mystery, Stephen.’ The tall man stooped out of the doorway. ‘British intelligence comes up trumps once again.’

‘Hope’s dead, Harry,’ the old guy said. ‘I wouldn’t count that as a success.’

‘Don’t knock it. The way this will play out, you’ll still be the hero of the hour. A dead hero, yes, but a hero nonetheless.’

As the tall man moved to cover Itchy and the others, Silva reached for the SIG.

‘Stop!’ she shouted, holding the gun braced in two hands.