Sisi unlocked Malik’s office at The Harem and stepped inside. She pulled her hair back, gathered it into a bun, and with a rubber band she’d held between her lips, she tied her Peruvian attachment in place.

She went over to Malik’s desk, sat on his chair, and felt underneath the tabletop. Her fingers touched a key taped to the underside. She pushed the chair back and opened the first drawer: inside was a silver Smith and Wesson revolver with a long barrel and black handle. Next to it, a transparent box of cartridges. She gripped the handle of the weapon and lifted it out of the drawer. The pistol was heavier than she had anticipated. It made a loud clank as she half placed, half dropped it on the table.

Twigs snapped and dead leaves crunched beneath boots as armed men crept through the forest towards the building surrounded by a twelve-foot-high concrete fence topped with loops of barbed wire. The men spread out, communicating only with hand signals. They extended long telescopic poles with tiny cameras on the ends up to the barbed wire and transmitted the images they captured to the officers beneath who used laptops in thick, black, shockproof cases.

Ibrahim shifted on the thin cushion of his seat in the back of the armoured vehicle parked in the middle of a narrow road in the forest. Two other officers sat either side of him. Facing them were Amaka, wearing a large grey bulletproof vest, Alex, and Mshelia.

Amaka’s phone began to vibrate. ‘Eyitayo, not now.’

‘Switch that off,’ Ibrahim said. He checked his watch. ‘They should be in position now.’ His radio crackled. ‘Tell me.’

It was Hot-Temper. He whispered over the radio: ‘No movement detected. Awaiting your signal.’

Ibrahim looked at Mshelia. Mshelia nodded.

‘Go,’ Ibrahim said.

Mshelia banged on the metal plate separating the rear of the van from the driver’s cab. The engine roared, the tyres spun in sand, and the two-tonne vehicle lurched forward, throwing everybody back in their seats.