Connor stood amid the devastation that was his bedroom. The place had been ransacked, just like the rest of the facility. His clothes lay scattered, his bed upended, his desk emptied and his personal effects tossed on the floor or missing. The attackers, whoever they were, had done a thorough job. Connor couldn’t work out if they were looking for something in particular or simply carrying out wanton destruction.

He got down on his hands and knees and began to hunt around. Eventually he found what he was looking for: a scratched plastic key fob. But this wasn’t any old key fob. It contained the faded photo of a tall tanned soldier with dark brown hair and piercing green-blue eyes the same as Connor’s: his father. Previously the fob had held a photo of himself, aged eight years old. His father had died with it clasped in his hand. Now the fob was Connor’s talisman. He gripped it tightly in his palm for comfort and strength, then slipped it into his pocket.

During his hunt Connor had also come across the dog-eared copy of the SAS Survival Handbook that Colonel Black had given him prior to his African assignment. While the colonel wasn’t by nature a warm or emotionally open man, he often showed his affection and care towards Connor by more practical means, the manual being just one example, and it had proved essential to his survival during that unexpectedly hazardous operation in Burundi. While Connor didn’t foresee any use for it in China, the handbook did contain one essential item. Flicking through its pages, Connor was relieved to discover, still tucked inside, a dark blue American passport. Presented to him on his first-ever assignment in recognition for services protecting President Mendez’s daughter, it granted him US citizenship. He’d been using it as a bookmark, but now Connor thought a second passport could come in very handy.

Unzipping his Go-bag, Connor added the passport to his other travel documents. Their plan was to travel light, so all he needed was a fresh set of clothes. As he sorted through the pile on the floor, he unearthed a framed picture of Charley. Blonde, beautiful and with eyes as cobalt blue as a cloudless sky, she’d had the photo taken the day before leaving for her spinal therapy. It had been a bright spring morning, full of hope and new life – just like Charley. Connor recalled her excitement and trepidation at the prospect of being more independently mobile – possibly walking or even surfing again. As a former junior surf champion, that was her ultimate dream. No promises, she’d said. And he’d reminded her of her own words to him: if you think you can, or think you can’t, you’re probably right. The frame’s glass had been cracked, but she smiled defiantly through it – as she did through most of life’s challenges.

Connor prayed that Charley was all right, that she hadn’t been targeted in an attack like everyone else. But why would she be? Charley wasn’t on a mission. She hadn’t actively been part of Buddyguard for nearly two months since beginning her therapy. Why would the attackers pursue her? Or even deem her a threat?

Nonetheless Connor couldn’t help but worry. If he knew anything about their mystery enemy it was that they were methodical and ruthless. He needed to get in contact with Charley, confirm that she was safe and warn her of the danger. She might even be worrying about him now that his phone was out of action. But lacking a guaranteed secure line, there was no way he could call her without alerting the enemy to her location … that’s if they didn’t know it already.

Shanghai, China … That’s where Charley’s medical facility was situated. Surely Colonel Black’s coordinates couldn’t be mere coincidence. Maybe the colonel had already reached her, hence the choice of rendezvous point. At once Connor felt reassured by the thought and was even more impatient to leave.

He glanced out of the window. From his room, he could see the old school chapel with its small tree-bound cemetery at the rear. A pile of freshly dug earth and a makeshift cross marked the shallow grave of Steve Nash. Connor wondered if they’d done the right thing, burying their instructor. They might have destroyed crucial clues as to who his killers were. Should they have left him where he was or put his body in the kitchen’s freezer instead? But he and Amir didn’t know how long they’d be gone, or whether they’d even return. Out of respect and necessity, the burial had seemed the best decision.

‘I’ve salvaged what I could,’ said Amir, entering the room with his own Go-bag brimming. ‘Since we’re travelling with only hand luggage, I’ve selected items we can carry through airport security without drawing attention.’ He passed Connor items from his bag. ‘Spare stab-proof T-shirt … new bulletproof jacket, given your old one had taken a hit … night-vision sunglasses … contact lens camera … fresh batteries for your XT tactical torch …’ He glanced up with a tight uncertain smile. ‘I didn’t think we could get away with red-gel pepper spray, even disguised as a deodorant can … so, besides the extendable baton, our only other self-defence weapon is an iStun.’

Amir handed Connor a standard-looking smartphone, the key difference being the two metal studs at the top of the device, which delivered a three-million-volt shock. After Connor’s recent experience of being tasered, he was wary of taking the phone off Amir.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Amir, misreading his reluctance. ‘We should be able to get them past security – their internals are essentially the same as a normal working phone, just a larger battery. Of course we can’t use them to communicate with since they could be compromised. But I struck lucky with these babies.’ Amir presented Connor with a slim black wristband watch. ‘Only arrived yesterday and they were overlooked during the search.’

The time appeared on the display as soon as the watch was strapped to Connor’s arm. ‘At least we won’t be late for our rendezvous,’ he said.

‘It’s a new-generation thermic smartband,’ Amir explained. ‘Powered by your body’s own heat, the watch supplies full biometric read-outs, has an encrypted end-to-end text messenger and a locator beacon that will allow us to communicate with one another securely, track each other’s movements and share key data on our medical status. Could be useful if we get separated.’

Connor held up the iStun. ‘But what about a smartphone that won’t fry our ears off?’

‘I’ll buy us new disposable ones at the airport,’ said Amir. He glanced at the read-out on his own smartband. ‘Our flight’s in a little under five hours. We’d best get moving.’

Downstairs, they passed through reception and Connor entered the transport office. Much of the contents had been rifled through, but he found the keys they needed. Hurrying outside to the car park, Connor unlocked Jody’s Range Rover.

Amir snatched the keys off him. ‘You haven’t got a licence!’

Connor shot his friend a look. ‘Nor have you!’

They’d both been trained in defensive driving but due to their age weren’t legally allowed on UK roads.

Grinning, Amir jumped into the driver’s seat. ‘I know, but I drive faster.’