Around the room, he could see four men nodding back. Two of them were SAS and two weren't, but whatever their background, they were all warriors.
'We've all agreed to take part in this mission,' he continued. 'But I'm about to give you the details. If you don't like the sound of it, you are still free to go. Nobody's forcing you to do anything. But after this discussion, if you're still up for it, you're committed. There's no backing out. OK?'
He looked through the room again. No dissent.
Matt nodded towards Alison. 'This is Alison. She's a senior MI5 officer. It's her plan, and Five are going to be helping us with logistics, materials and planning.
'We're hitting a boat on the Mediterranean,' Matt continued. 'It's running gold and diamonds for al-Qaeda. There will be at least thirty million dollars in gear on board. Fenced, it should be worth ten million.' Damien cast him a look of confirmation. 'We get to keep the money, no questions asked.'
He looked into their eyes. It was more than they had expected. Unbelievably more. Behind the expressions he could see the calculations being made: two million translated into treatment for the children, a new house and car for the wife, escape from the Provos, or respect among the gangs in Camberwell. Fear and desire and escape. Those were the currencies being traded.
'Two million each?' said Cooksley.
'In cash?' added Reid.
'You heard it right,' said Matt. 'The mission should take a month, from today to pay-day. We'll take a day to tell our families, whoever. After that, silence. We're out of contact until it's over. We're all here for our different skills. Cooksley, Reid, and I are all ex-SAS. We know about fighting. Damien is an old pal of mine, and he knows everything about boats. He's also going to help us fence the goods. And Ivan. .' Matt paused, looking across at the Irishman. 'Well, I've told you about Ivan.'
Matt looked towards Reid. The calculations again: working with a Provo against the money he desperately needed. Swallow some pride, Matt thought. Get used to it.
'How dangerous is it going to be?' said Ivan.
Matt glanced towards Alison.
'Usual risk, high but acceptable,' she said. 'They'll be armed, and they'll do their best to kill you. Against that, you'll have training, numbers and equipment on your side.'
'I meant afterwards,' said Ivan. 'You steal from al-Qaeda, they're going to come after you.'
Another good question, thought Matt. He might be a Provo, but he's sharp. He glanced back towards Alison, noting the hesitation in her eyes. It was the first time he'd seen that: every other question pitched at her she had batted straight back with total self-belief. Not this time.
'There's no such thing as a safe mission,' she said slowly. 'From your different backgrounds, all of you know that. Five can't make any guarantees. But think about it. A boat in the middle of the Med. No one can see or hear you. You kill all the al-Qaeda men on board, then you disappear into the night. How are they ever going to trace you?'
Matt looked around the room. He could see the men nodding, satisfied with the reply. They're hungry for the deal.
They don't want to hear about the risks, and, in truth, neither do I.
'We need to speak among ourselves,' said Matt. 'About Ivan.'
Alison nodded. 'We'll take a walk around the block,' she replied. 'But remember, I think it would be safer for Five to organise fencing the goods. I'll trade you Damien for Ivan.'
'It's not a game of swapsies, it's our lives,' said Matt sharply.
Ivan stood up and looked at each man in turn, his expression dignified, polite, but also questioning. 'I don't want to work with you boys any more than you want to work with me,' he said. 'But I reckon on our different battlefields we've all learnt some of the same lessons. In a crisis, you take your allies where you find them, and you deal with life as it is, not how you'd like it to be.' He turned towards the door, not looking back. 'And remember, a proud man is sometimes also a poor man.'
The door slammed shut. Matt stood silent. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could see two million dollars slipping away from him. A proud man is sometimes also a poor man, he reflected.
I've been both, and I know which one I prefer.
'Tosser,' said Reid, his expression darkening. 'Stupid Provo tosser.'
'I reckon that's your vote then,' said Matt, trying to smile.
'Maybe she's bluffing,' said Reid. He bent down to pick up a packet of tobacco from the floor. 'I didn't like the look of her much either. Stuck-up, posh totty. I might shag her, but I don't want to take orders from her.'
'He's a bit smart, isn't he?' said Cooksley. 'It's not just that he's a Provo, there's something sly about him.'
'Tell her we'll do it ourselves,' said Reid. 'Four guys is plenty to take a boat if it's the right four men. That's us. We can learn how to blow a safe. There's plenty of Regiment guys can give us some lessons in explosives.'
'Your vote, mate,' said Matt, looking towards Cooksley.
Cooksley hesitated, his eyes rooted to the ground. 'It's the kids,' he said. 'I need this money. I'd team up with Saddam Hussein if I had to.'
'And you, Damien?'
'I'm the trade, aren't I?' said Damien
'We still listen to what you have to say,' said Matt. 'Everyone's voice counts.'
'No trust, no deal, that's my view. He's too different from the rest of us. That makes him a threat.'
'And where else does anyone suggest we're going to get this kind of money,' said Cooksley. 'We're all here for the same reason, we need this job. She knows it, and so does he.'
'No, we bluff her,' shouted Reid. 'She needs us as well.'
'OK,' said Matt. 'We'll bluff her, but in the end, we'll all make our own decisions.'
He made a round of teas, and waited in silence for Alison and Ivan to return. Nobody was saying anything.
They're all thinking. Thinking and making their choices. That's something a man has to do in silence.
'Well,' said Alison, standing in front of them, Ivan at her side. 'Have you made a decision?'
There was no hint of compromise in her voice, Matt noticed. Nothing to suggest she might bend to anyone else's will. 'It's no good,' he said, looking towards Ivan. 'It's not personal, but we don't think we can work with you. The trust won't be there.'
Alison stepped forward. 'You're an idiot, Matt,' she said softly. She glanced around the room. 'You are all idiots. Why? Because there are lots of men like you, I just have to keep working my way down the list. But there's only one of me. None of you is going to get another offer like this one.'
Matt glanced towards Reid. He reckoned he could see him wavering. He was thinking about going back to his hovel, about moving in with his mother-in-law when the house got repossessed. 'That's our decision,' Matt said, looking back towards Alison. 'It's final.'
'Fine,' said Alison briskly. 'It was nice meeting you, gentlemen. I'm sorry it hasn't worked out.' She looked up towards Ivan. 'Let's go.'
Matt could hear them walking back down the hallway then the sound of the latch opening. He looked down towards Reid. He could see him wrestling with something. 'OK,' he whispered. 'We'll do it.'
Matt looked towards Cooksley, then Damien. Each of them nodded in turn.
'Stop,' he shouted down the hallway. 'We'll take him.'
We do what we have to do. What other choices do we have?
A smile was playing on her lips as Alison walked back down the hallway. 'I'm going to forget this ever happened, and we'll pick up where we left off,' she said. 'Ivan's in, and Damien's in. That's the compromise.'
'You're tough,' said Matt.
'Hey,' said Alison, combing a lock of blonde hair away from her forehead. 'If you want to play softball go to the park.'