“We’ll move out from here on foot at 2200 hours, once it’s properly dark. I’ll go ahead as lead scout. Tom, you follow me with the rest of your team and Marina behind you. Two of my people will bring up the rear. I’ll signal when we’re in the LUP—the lying-up position—and then it’s the usual hard routine for the rest of the night and through tomorrow. We’ll only be five kilometers from the compound and that means no fires or lights or cigarettes, pissing and crapping where we are, no movement, complete silence. We’ll move out after dark tomorrow night to link up with the Americans for their drop. Then we take them forward so they can get eyes on the compound. We’ve recce’d the routes. We all know where we need to be and what we need to do. We just need to keep doing what we’ve been doing to make sure that we remain undetected. No mistakes . . .” He stopped and looked at Morland. “Happy with that, Tom?”

“Spot on, Arvydas. Exactly what London wants.” Morland looked around the patrol base. Everyone had been briefed and was ready to go. He nodded at Wild, “Time to get something to eat and a bit of rest. It’s going to be a long night.”

Lukša moved over to his soldiers to confirm they all knew what was planned and had no questions, while Wild did the same with the three other Mercians.

Morland reached into his bergen and pulled out a tin of sardines from his Lithuanian ration pack, together with a packet of dry biscuits. He looked at Krauja. “It’s hardly cordon bleu, Marina, but have a bite.”

Krauja pulled a face. “No thanks, Tom, I’ve got some of my own. I wouldn’t want to deprive you. But thanks anyway.”

“If only we could cook something. I’m a dab hand at putting together a classic compo all in stew.”

“A what?” asked Krauja.

“Everything in the pack put together and heated up: baked beans, meat, veg, hard tack biscuits, cheese—with lashings of curry powder and tabasco sauce,” said Morland, with a faraway look in his eye as he thought about hot food.

Krauja smiled. “I hadn’t seen you as a domestic god, Tom. I might just hold you to that . . . If we ever get out of here, that is.” For a moment her control faltered.

Morland saw that for all her Baltic strength of character, Krauja was frightened. “Don’t you worry, Marina. We’ll make it out.” He gestured at Wild and the three other Mercian soldiers. “Those buggers have been in much worse scrapes. They’re natural-born survivors and so are you!”

For the first time since he had known her, she looked unconvinced.