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Koenig had trained with the Rangers, one of the world’s elite units when it came to ambush and counter-ambush tactics. The first thing he’d been told was that there were only two types of ambush: deliberate and snap. Everything else was a variation. The second thing he’d been told was that a deliberate ambush was largely unsurvivable. It was rehearsed, and it had security and designated kill zones. A deliberate ambush made use of mines and obstacles, and was only triggered when it met the unit’s tactical objective.

Snap ambushes were different. By definition, they were put together quickly. The drills were rehearsed, but the specifics were dictated by the terrain. Nothing was prepared in advance. They predominantly relied on surprise. Snap ambushes were vulnerable to counter-ambush tactics.

His Ranger training instructor, a wiry Kentuckian with a scar running from nose to ear, had said, ‘If you got the balls, you charge them muthafuckas. You don’t stop to think. You don’t get down in the dirt and scratch about for a firing position. You charge, you scream like a stuck pig, and you get in among ’em. You think them muthafuckas gonna be nice and calm, thinking about keeping their breathing steady if a Ranger is charging towards them, screaming his head off? No, they fucking ain’t. You make ’em regret the day they thought about ambushing a Ranger patrol.’

Koenig didn’t want to run. He thought that would be the wrong thing to do. A running target elicits a snap response from professional soldiers, which almost all mercenaries had been at some point. A running target is like the white tail on a startled cottontail. It draws the eye, lets muscle memory take over. Koenig didn’t want the men in body armour using muscle memory when he stepped away from the Jag.

He wanted them thinking.

He wanted them over thinking.

He press-checked his SIG, then winked at Margaret. ‘See you on the plane,’ he said.

‘I’ll have a cold beer waiting for you.’

‘Good luck, Ben,’ Carlyle said.

Koenig stood.

Draper started firing. Tried to give him as much covering fire as her SIG would allow.

The men in body armour ignored her.

As one, they turned their Spectres on Koenig.