I pushed against the coat, not even raising the Maglite, just squeezing past as Red Ken took him.

There were two bodies by the rear of the car. One was staggering to his feet. The other lay still. The upright one wore a long leather coat. He turned towards me and lifted his arm.

My vision tunnelled. All I could see was the weapon I was running towards. The barrel headed my way in slow motion. I felt nothing but the thump of my heart as I got within striking distance.

The Maglite came down on what I could see of the pistol and his hand. He buckled, but not enough. The weapon didn’t fall, and neither did he. I connected again, this time to the right side of his neck.

I kept hitting, kept hammering his head, his neck, his arm.

A round kicked off inside the barn, then a double tap.

I slammed the Maglite down again and again on the target’s head, jumping into the air to get that extra bit of momentum, until I heard the crack I wanted and felt warm blood spurt against my face.

He dropped into the shit beside Tenny.

I used the Maglite for the job it was designed to do – to find the weapon in the mud and guide me back to the barn.

‘Red! Red!’

‘Clear this end.’

I turned back, dropped to my knees beside Tenny and ran the Maglite beam over his face, searching for signs of life. ‘It’s OK, mate. You’re breathing – means you’re still winning. Got to turn you over. Take the pain.’

A gunshot wound to the gut. I grabbed his shoulder, log-rolled him and looked for an exit wound.

‘It’s fine, mate – it’s still inside you.’

The only good thing about a gut wound is that it isn’t as painful as anywhere else on the body. There aren’t any nerve endings there. If there were, it would hurt to eat. As long as no major organs were hit, Tenny could live for a day, maybe two, without treatment.

I pressed my beanie against the entry wound. ‘Keep it there, mate.’

Spag loomed out of the darkness with Vladislav. They both headed for the Trabant.