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?’
    ‘You’re the one that sold this deal to us,’ the Dutchman continued . ‘I swear, if I have to dig another grave, the next one will be yours.’
    Roberts looked down at Eversham’s body and had to wonder whether his dead friend had got off lightly.

Chapter 5
    13 March 2014
    Roberts felt as if his head had barely touched the pillow when he was roused from his sleep by the banging on the door of the hut.
    ‘Wakey, wakey! Breakfast in twenty minutes. Hit the showers!’
    He looked at his watch and saw that he’d been asleep for barely three hours.
    ‘What time is it?’ Houtman yawned, as he looked out of the window into darkness.
    Roberts groaned. ‘Nearly six.’
    He joined Houtman at the window, where they saw a stream of people silently filing past, washing kits in their hands.
    ‘I think we’d better join them,’ he said, and got another growl of disapproval from the Dutchman.
    Roberts grabbed his wash bag and a towel from his suitcase and went out to join the throng, who were heading towards a structure that had been hidden from view the night before. He noted that many of them were built like him, with the same pasty expressions and hunched shoulders. Clearly Efram hadn’t been looking for the typical soldier type. Inside the building t hey found rudimentary shower facilities, and as they queued th ey notic ed that no man took longer than three minutes to finish his ablutions .
    ‘Better make this quick,’ he whispered to Conran, keenly aware that no-one else in the building was talking.
    When it was his turn, Roberts stripped off his boxer shorts and stood under the shower head. The water was cold, but given the outside temperature even at such an early hour, it felt refreshing. He brushed his teeth quickly before shampooing and rinsing, the whole process taking just over four minutes, drawing angry looks from those still queuing.
    Back at the four-man cabin, Roberts dressed in shorts and T-shirt before rolling up his sleeping bag and placing it at the foot of his camp bed. Through the window he could see people making their way to the main building, and Roberts told his companions to get a move on.
    They followed the stream of men into the mess hall, where a se rving station was manned by three local women. Men filed past slowly, and Roberts grabbed a tray and fell in line. The smell grew stronger as he neared his turn, and when he held out his tray he w as rewarded with a dollop of yellow and a stew-like mixture. He hadn’t eaten since the airline food the previous day, but despite this, he was hesitant to tackle the strange offering.
    He went to find a seat, and noticed that the tables were designed for a maximum of four people. It brought the colonel’s introductory speech back to mind, and he realised that even the eating arrangements were designed to discourage talking to anyone outside their own little group.
    It suddenly struck him that no-one was talking at all, and he put that down to the three armed men standing in the corners of the room.
    ‘This isn’t bad,’ Houtman said, licking his finger as he took a seat opposite Roberts.
    ‘Shut it!’ Roberts whispered, as Conran joined them. He looked around to see if anyone had heard, but thankfully there was no sudden rush to discipline the Dutchman. Roberts kept his head down, eating his meal as quickly as possible so that he could retreat to the cabin.
    After wolfing down the food, he queued up to put his tray in the wash area and walked back to the accommodation block. Once inside, he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. Houtman and Conran arrived a few minutes later. Despite the closed door, they kept their voices low.
    ‘This is some weird shit,’ Conran said, a sentiment echoed by Houtman.
    ‘Agreed,’ Roberts said. ‘So what do we do now?’
    ‘What choice do we have?’ Houtman asked. ‘If we don’t do exactly as they say, we end up like Tony, with a bullet in the head.’
    ‘And we can’t leave,’ Conran added.