Christ. Fish food.
He gave his legs a powerful kick to steer himself back to the dinghy. He grabbed its side, holding it tight. With the other hand, he tore the goggles from his face, slinging them inside the vessel. He looked around. Ivan, Cooksley, Reid and Damien were all in the water. The target was sailing away.
'Jesus,' shouted Buhner, looking down at the men bobbing about in the water. 'I hope the fate of the world doesn't depend on you lot.'
Matt kissed Alison full on the lips, aware of her breasts pushing back at him. Her hair fell across his chest, and her hands were starting to run down his back, teasing his flesh, and gently rubbing his muscles. They had made love once already, and Matt wanted to get back to the shack. He'd been away for two hours — spend too long and some of the other men might start getting suspicious.
Alison's good, but she's not the woman I love.
'How's the training?' Alison's voice sounded lazy and tired.
'Hard,' said Matt. 'We're not as fit as we were when we quit the Regiment. It's amazing how quickly you lose it. We're making progress, though. It took Cooksley a few tries, but he's getting the knack of the hook. We'll be OK on the day.'
'Just one more night, then you'll be off.'
Matt shrugged. 'Why the rush?'
'A boat will be crossing the Med in the next few days,' said Alison. 'You need to be ready.'
'It's better to be properly trained,' said Matt. 'If al-Qaeda are sending boats out all the time, there'll be another one in a week or two. It's dangerous to go too early.'
Alison sat up, drawing the sheet up to cover her breasts. 'You've heard of a man called Charles Booth.'
'The head of Five,' Matt said, caressing her exposed ankle. 'Sent in to shake the agency up, get some results after September the eleventh.'
'My boss,' said Alison. 'He needs a break on this Landau case. The PM and Home Secretary are all over him.'
Matt's hand stopped half-way up her thigh. 'Did Booth authorise this mission?' he asked. 'Personally?'
'That's need-to-know information.'
'And I don't need to know?' Matt raised his eyebrows.
Alison laughed, pulling him towards her, the sheet falling away to reveal her breasts. 'All you need to know is how to fuck me,' she said.
Matt steadied himself on the prow of the dinghy. His legs were swaying from the combined force of the waves and the wind, and he had to keep adjusting his position to hold his balance. He raised the Bushmaster Leupold high-precision rifle to his right eye, lining up the night-vision goggles with its telescopic sights. The Bushmaster was a light semi-automatic weapon, precision manufactured from aircraft-quality aluminium. The rifle weighed just seven-and-a-half pounds, and the twenty-round magazine added another pound. American-made, Matt had noted when they were given the guns. The kind of weapon you could buy in any American hunting shop. If anything went wrong, Five didn't want the gang to be carrying anything that could link them back to the British government.
He steadied his shoulder. The target was standing on the deck of the boat: three old tires roped together, with a life jacket slung on top. He levelled his sights. The boat swayed, knocking him off balance for a moment. He recovered, put the gun back to his eye, took aim and fired.
The bullet missed.
'Wanker,' growled Bulmer behind him. 'Listen, if there's a lookout, you're going to get one shot. No second chances. They'll have depth charges, machine-guns, the fucking works. They start chucking charges into the sea it will blow this dinghy apart. Then they'll rake the water with the machine-guns. You boys will be finished.'
Damn, thought Matt. He steadied himself again, waited for the wave to pass, tensed his shoulder, and pressed the trigger. Through the telescopic sights, he could see a tear ripping open in the life jacket. He smiled to himself
'Reckon you got lucky,' growled Bulmer. 'Now do it again.'
Damien and Ivan had cooked up a round of steak sandwiches, and were passing them around the team. Matt squirted some ketchup on to his, and took a thick bite, swallowing quickly. Neither of them would be the next Jamie Oliver, but this was just the kind of food needed after a hard day at sea.
'We could train and train for this mission,' said Perky, standing at the front of the room. 'But there isn't time. An al-Qaeda boat will set sail in the next couple of days. That's the one we want to hit. Buhner's going to take you out again tonight, to run through tactics one last time. There's a BA flight from Heathrow to Cyprus tomorrow at two. We've booked tickets for you.'
'You'll be staying at the Amathus Beach Hotel in Limassol,' said Pinky. 'It's a standard package holiday place next to the beach. As far as the rest of the world is concerned you're just a bunch of Brits on a stag week.' A grin flashed on to his face as he looked around the room. 'Drink plenty, and chase the girls round the pool. That'll be your cover.'
Nobody laughed, Matt noticed.
Don't ever retrain as a comedian, Pinky. You haven't got it.
'We'll be tracking the boat by satellite,' said Perky. 'When it's within five hours' sailing of Cyprus, Matt will get a text message saying: "Don't forget Mum's birthday. Ring her on this number." The last four digits of that number will be the expected time of arrival off the Cyprus coast.
'A ship has been hired for you in Mongari, a fishing village close to Limassol. Matt will be given the details. Your guns and explosives will be shipped out to the British embassy in Cyprus in diplomatic bags. They'll be delivered to the boatman and he'll stash them on board. After that, there won't be any more contact with the embassy.'
Matt took another bite on his sandwich.
Keeping us at a distance again. In case it goes wrong.
'When you get the signal,' said Pinky, 'get down to Mongari, and set out to sea. There will be a radio receiver on board the boat. When we have it, we'll patch through the precise co-ordinates of the al-Qaeda boat. After that you're on your own. Any questions?'
'What's the plan for the gear once we've taken it?' said Damien.
'That's for you to decide,' said Alison. 'It's all yours. Ship it anywhere you like, anyhow you like.'
Matt handed out the cups of tea. His hands were numb from the day's training on the water, and he held the cup tightly to try and get the circulation moving again. Each of the men sitting around the fire looked just as tired and cold; they were fit and strong, but they were still mortal, and the day had been tougher than any of them expected.
Behind him, Alison spooned some sugar into a cup but remained silent. Matt checked that Buhner had left the room, and so had Pinky and Perky. This was a discussion he wanted to keep private.
'Listen up,' said Matt, 'there's something we need to discuss.' He paused, taking a sip of his tea. 'We're going to be off soon. I just wanted to make sure everyone is straight on a few things before we start. That way we make sure there aren't any arguments later.'
He sat down next to the fire. 'After we get the money, Damien will organise fencing it. We ship the stuff from Cyprus to Rotterdam, then we bring the money back to England.'
'We all go and collect it together, right?' said Ivan.
'If you like,' answered Matt.
'The money comes off the boat, right?' said Damien. 'We put it on to a cargo boat to Rotterdam. None of us will be able to touch it while it's in transit. We all go together to the port in Rotterdam, and get the stuff off the boat, then we'll deliver the stash to the fence, and split up the cash. OK?'
'How do we know the boat's going to Rotterdam?' Reid asked.