The odd thing is, Brabazon very nearly was. During his time with du Toit, the mercenary began dropping hints about a big operation involving regime change somewhere in west Africa. The idea was that Brabazon might film the operation, coyly called ‘Nick’s African Adventure’.

Luckily he didn’t, or else he too might have ended up in court in Malabo, Equatorial Guinea’s sweaty capital. In the dock there, Mann alleged that he took Thatcher to the Chelsea home of Ely Calil, a Lebanese businessman accused by the Equatoguineans of being the main financier of the plot. It’s probably far from being that simple. For one thing Calil seems too clever a man to have got involved in this kind of foolishness. The role of Nigel, aka ‘Nosher’ Morgan, a florid-faced former Irish Guards officer turned intelligence consultant, could bear more examination. Morgan passed information about Mann to South African authorities at the same time as professing to help him.

Du Toit, like Mann (who was extradited from Zimbabwe), was banged up in the horrific Black Beach prison in Malabo. Among other injuries, his toe-nails were continually stamped off by military boots during interrogation. Rats fed off his wounds while he slept.

While du Toit was in prison, Brabazon did his best to help the mercenary’s wife and to unpick the murky story of the coup. This is the best bit of the book. But in the end who did what and why, with the tacit blessing of which government, all remain mysterious. One can only agree with an SAS friend of the author, who described the whole thing as ‘an astonishing catalogue of buffoonery’.

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