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The fence was high and forbidding, razor wire curled maliciously around the top.

Helen had spent ten minutes stalking the perimeter, looking for holes, but there was nothing.

It was clear that Leyla Rashidi and her cronies were determined to keep Dearham Farm free of prying eyes, numerous signs on the fence warning of dire consequences for trespassers.

But Helen had no choice – if she wanted to rescue Viyan, she had to get over that fence.

Tugging off her jacket, she took a deep breath, then wearily launched the heavy leather garment high into the air.

Wary of tossing it up and over the fence, she put too little energy into it and it fell back onto her.

Annoyed, she tried again and this time she judged the trajectory correctly, the flapping jacket landing on top of the razor wire.

She did this with a heavy heart, concerned that her favourite jacket would pay a high price, but there was no other way.

The razor wire glinted wickedly in the sunlight, promising to lacerate fingers and arms, a thought which made Helen shudder.

She would need all her limbs, all her strength for what lay ahead.

Gripping the wire, Helen took a deep breath.

She had never felt so hollow, so lethargic as she did today.

Part of her doubted she would even be able to make it to the top of the fence, let alone effect Viyan’s rescue, but the imprisoned woman’s needs were more pressing than her own, so gritting her teeth, she put one boot on the fence and started to climb.

Weaving one hand over the other, she clambered clumsily up, her determination propelling her towards the top.

In less than five seconds she was there, clinging to the edge of the chain-link fence, as it swayed back and forth under her assault.

Gathering herself, she raised one foot onto the top of the fence, levering herself upwards, arching her body up and over the razor wire.

She was straining every sinew not to touch her jacket, not to expose herself to danger, but this came at a cost, the effort suddenly making her feel dizzy and unstable.

For a minute, she thought she might collapse onto the deadly blades, but closing her eyes, she managed to regain her composure, sliding one leg over and raising her torso over the top.

Her foot now made contact with the other side of the fence, her toe desperately, digging in.

Now she hauled the rest of herself over, confident she had defeated this deadly obstacle.

But now disaster struck. Her leading foot suddenly slipped from its mooring, throwing her off balance.

Now she was falling, tugging at her jacket in desperation to arrest her fall.

With a savage ripping sound it came clean away, exposing the cruel wire.

Pushing away from the fence she tried to jump clear of it, but her trailing hand ripped over the wire, tearing flesh and belching blood.

She landed with a crash on the ground, her hip jarring nastily on a rock, the impact rippling through her.

For a moment, Helen lay there, shocked and breathless, before slowly pulling herself up onto her knees.

Looking down, she saw a long, deep gash on her left hand, which oozed crimson.

The sight made her world spin and for a moment she thought she was going to faint, the trees seeming to dance around her.

Helen clamped her eyes shut, willing herself to be strong, but as she knelt amidst the foliage, she heard a noise that froze her blood.

Footsteps coming fast towards her, pounding through the woods.

Her eyes snapped open. Two muscular thugs were tramping along the perimeter, their gaze alert and suspicious.

Desperate, Helen scrabbled forward, forcing her narrow frame into a thick gorse bush.

Immediately, she was set upon, a thousand tiny thorns tearing at her skin.

The footsteps were getting louder now, so gritting her teeth, she crawled in deeper, completely consumed by the foliage.

Holding her breath, she kept a careful watch eye on the sentries as they passed by unawares, laughing and joking with each other.

Only once they were well clear did she emerge from her hiding place, rising to her knees and stumbling on into the woodland.

Progress was slow and faltering, tree roots and rabbit holes conspiring to trip her at every stage.

Helen did not relent, however, convinced that every second counted now.

And before long, the forest started to thin out, revealing a sprawling farm littered with tumbledown buildings.

At the heart of the site was a large, two-storey farmhouse, its interior gloomy and lifeless.

The yard, by contrast, was alive with people.

A handful were at work, emptying sacks into battered industrial bins.

The vast majority of the workers were gathered towards the rear of the yard.

Helen marvelled at the numbers, there must have been at least fifty immigrants here, all dressed shabbily, their body language listless and defeated.

Creeping forward to the fringes of the undergrowth, she scanned the terrain, looking for the spider at the heart of this tangled web.

Leyla Rashidi was standing at the back of the site next to a giant, cylindrical structure, hectoring her charges, who surrounded her in an uneven circle.

To her dismay, Helen now realized the horror of the situation.

Something – or someone – was in the deadly incinerator.

There could be no other explanation for Leyla’s strange behaviour, the enraged gangmasters shouting abuse at the machine, occasionally turning to admonish the knot of workers, who surrounded it, some looking sheepish, others sickened.

Desperately, Helen scanned the yard, searching for Viyan, but there was no sign of her.

Helen could draw only one conclusion – the young mother of three was about to be burned to death.

Helen took a step forward, straining to see what was going on, then froze in her tracks.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed something, turning to see a tiny electronic device hidden in the trunk of a tree, flashing red at her accusingly.

Cursing, Helen realized her presence had been detected, the hidden sensor reacting to her movement.

There was nothing for it, she would have to move fast now, throwing caution to the wind.

She hadn’t planned it this way, but there was no point prevaricating.

Reaching down, she scoured the ground for a weapon, seizing upon a fallen branch.

‘Hello again.’

Straightening up, Helen saw the heavily scarred thug approaching, flanked by his sidekick from yesterday’s ambush.

Helen’s eyes narrowed, this was the third time she had faced off with this vicious bully and she was determined to make it their last. Gripping the branch firmly, she stepped forward to confront him, only for her intended victim to raise his gun, levelling it directly at her.

‘So, Helen, shall we finish what we started?’ he drawled, flashing a set of stained teeth. ‘Or are you going to come quietly?’

Helen glared at him. The distance between them was only a few feet, but there was no way she could cover the ground before he got a shot off. What then was the alternative? Surrender? Whilst Viyan was burned alive?

The smiling thug cocked the hammer, offering Helen a final warning.

She knew she should relent, but a towering rage was growing inside her.

These sadistic bastards were responsible for Selima’s death, for Viyan’s imminent immolation, for the loss of her own child, denying Helen the motherhood she suddenly found she craved.

Was she going to let them get away with these outrages? Was she going to let them win ?

Bowing her head as if conceding defeat, Helen took a step forward, then hurled the branch at her captor with all her might.

Surprised, her assailant moved fast to deflect the branch, but in so doing was forced to lower his gun.

Summoning her last vestiges of energy, Helen ran forwards, arriving just in time to bat the gun from his hand as he tried to raise it once more.

Now she didn’t hesitate, driving her fist into his stomach, before following up with a vicious upper cut.

Her victim had recovered from his initial shock, however, jerking his head back just in time to avoid the blow.

Helen’s fist sailed clean past, leaving her hopelessly exposed.

Her enemy took full advantage, his clenched fist exploding into her right cheek.

Defenceless, off balance, Helen flew backwards, colliding heavily with the ground.

The breath was punched from her, her head hit an exposed rock, then suddenly everything went black.