Crouching low, phone off, he ran back in the direction of the door, misjudged it and crashed painfully into the wall. Mocking laughter seemed to echo all around. He dived for the floor again as two more shots rang out and chippings of plaster fell onto him and around him.

A million questions flashed through his brain. But he had only one purpose right at this second – to somehow stay alive and get his family to safety.

Curtis Esmonde’s voice boomed out at him. ‘So nice to be here with you, Roy. Dead nice! Having a dead nice holiday, are you? Remember what you called me in court when you were giving evidence? What you told the jury? And that bitch of a judge, what was her name? You said I was vermin; you likened me to a scavenging sewer rat. Well, who’s the rat now? The rat trapped in a maze, eh? We did leave you a clue with the photograph on the wall, but you must have missed it, Roy. Tut tut, and I thought you were supposed to be such a sharp detective.’

But Roy was barely listening. An idea was forming. A desperate plan. If he could stay alive long enough.

He rolled over, feeling the edge of the door frame, and crawled on all fours through into the hall. Two more shots rang out in rapid succession. Something zinged by his right ear. Fleetingly, snapping on his torch, he saw the nearest suit of armour to his left. It had a large shield. He turned the torch off and ducked behind the armour, crouching as low as he could.

He tried to free the shield, but it felt as if it was welded to the steel hand. Still crouched, he moved across the hall, dragging the suit of armour behind him for protection. Shit, it was heavy. Another two shots. Shotgun pellets pinged off the armour and something stung his left arm, painfully. He’d been hit.

From the time it had taken Esmonde to fire again, Roy guessed – and hoped – this wasn’t a pump-action gun; that the bastard was having to break the barrel open to reload fresh cartridges. Giving him a precious few seconds.

Switching on the torch again – 5 per cent charge remaining – and breaking into a run, he dragged the suit of armour behind him to the doorway through into the windowless dining room. Leaving it there, he sprinted across the room to the far door, through which Madame had brought the food on the large silver trays. And into the kitchen again.