Greed

'We shouldn't have stolen from al-Qaeda, boys,' said the face on the screen, the voice as clear and loud as if the man was sitting in the room with them. 'I'm getting what I deserve, and you're about to get what you deserve. If you give back the money and turn yourself in, they'll just kill you and leave your families alone. Do it, boys, it's not worth it. You've seen what happened to me.'

Matt watched as the bullet went into Cooksley's face, and as the second child was murdered in cold, ruthless blood. He watched as the blood spilt on to the floor, and as the masked man stepped over the bodies and walked towards the camera. And then nothing. The screen went blank.

I have never been so determined to kill a man as I am resolved to kill him. Only his blood will satisfy me.

The room was completely silent. None of them moved, none of them spoke. To Matt it seemed as though the video had lasted for hours, but when he glanced at the clock he could see it had been just minutes.

He stood up, switching off the TV. 'That's it, then,' he said, his voice flat and lifeless.

'We'll get him,' Reid muttered through clenched teeth. 'The cheap, murdering scumbag bastard.'

'That's for sure,' said Matt.

Ivan cleared his throat. 'Unless he gets us first.'

Matt fell silent. 'Who the fuck is he then?' he asked.

'He's a professional,' said Damien. 'We know that much. He's masked up, and he's wearing gloves so there's no way the police will get an ID on him. I'll bet any money you like he made sure nobody saw him go into the house, and nobody saw him go out again.'

'What's the video for, then?' said Matt.

'To frighten us, obviously,' said Damien 'He's al-Qaeda, that's what Cooksley says on the message. They want revenge, sure — but they also want us to give them their money back.'

'I'm not giving them any money,' shouted Reid. 'I'm going to find that bastard—'

Matt patted him on the shoulder. 'Yes. But the point is — who is he, and where do we find him?'

Across the room, Ivan was shaking his head. 'With due respect, that's not really the point,' he said.

Matt looked up at the Irishman. He was leaning against the wall, close to the window, his head bowed down in thought. He was speaking softly and clearly, and for a moment Matt found himself wondering why Ivan didn't seem more shocked by the scenes they had just witnessed. 'What is the point, then?'

'He found Cooksley so easily,' Ivan said, his voice slow and deliberate as if he were thinking over the issue to himself. 'First, Cooksley gets attacked in Cyprus. So we come back here. The rest of us stick together, he goes home — and within twenty-four hours he's dead. How can that possibly happen unless this guy knows exactly who he is and where to find him?'

Matt thought for a moment. Ivan was right.

How could he possibly know?

'Now,' Ivan continued, 'the most obvious explanation for that is that someone told him. One of us.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Matt snapped. 'Why in hell would any of us do that?'

'I don't think you play enough bridge,' said Ivan. 'Think through the maths of this situation. We were going to be collecting ten million next week. Split five ways, that makes two million each. Now one of us is dead, I assume we split the money four ways. That makes two-and-a-half million each. I'm sad about Cooksley — but I'm also half a million richer. That sounds like a motive to me.'

Reid stood up, his face reddening. 'There's only one person who'd do that,' he shouted. 'And that's a lying, treacherous Irish Provo bastard like you! I knew we should never let you into the gang — you've been trouble since we started.'

Matt held Reid back. 'Bloody cool it, man. We're not going to start killing each other and doing al-Qaeda's work for them.'

Reid stepped back, his face sullen.

'I know you don't trust me — but if it was me, why would I raise the issue?' Ivan said. 'That would be pointing the finger at myself.'

'Well it's not one of us, is it?' barked Reid, his gesture including Matt. 'We're soldiers, not terrorists.'

'What about him?' Ivan nodded towards Damien. 'He's a gangster.'

Damien grabbed Ivan by the throat, snarling into his face. 'Say that again and I'll kill you. You would raise the issue to cover yourself. I'm not falling for your double-bluff.'

'Stop acting like bloody idiots!' Matt shouted. He looked towards Ivan. 'What the hell are you trying to do?'

Ivan shrugged. 'Think straight, that's all — and stay alive,' he said quickly. 'Somebody has to.'

Matt stood in the centre of the room. 'We all start fighting among ourselves, we're all going to get killed,' he snapped. 'Listen, we have to get one thing straight. We have to stick together. Regiment rules apply here, like I said right at the start. We all look out for each other, and everyone's voice counts for the same.'

I can say it. But I'm not sure I really believe it.

FOURTEEN

Matt swilled back the orange juice he had taken from the mini-bar and switched on the electric kettle for some coffee. The Travel Inn didn't run to breakfast in the room, and he certainly didn't want to go down to the restaurant.

'Can I trust Damien?' Reid said, shutting the door behind him.

Matt rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. After the argument he had managed to calm them down a bit. They had agreed that they should stay in Reading that night and figure out what they were going to do in the morning. There was a mood of mistrust and suspicion growing between them, and Matt wanted to give everyone a chance to rest and reflect before they made any decisions. He'd had three swift vodkas from the mini-bar before he went to bed, but it did nothing to help him sleep. Most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, thinking over what had happened to Cooksley and his family.

'You can trust Damien with your life,' Matt said firmly. 'I've known that guy since he was five. He's been like a brother to me. There's no way he'd betray us, no way. There's nobody more loyal than a London villain.'

'What do you reckon, then?'

Matt poured hot water into his coffee cup. 'It's not me,' he said. 'And it's not you. Goes without saying you'd never have Cooksley killed, no matter how much money you might make. Not Damien either. That means it has to be Ivan — if someone is betraying us.'

'Just for the money?'

Matt shook his head. 'I don't know. He's a deep one,' he replied. 'He's always playing games. There's all kinds of links between the IRA and al-Qaeda going way back. I don't think we should have ever trusted him.'

'Maybe we should just beat the hell out of him, make him talk.'

'I don't think it would work,' Matt said. 'He's a Provo. They're trained not to talk under interrogation.'

'I'm worried about my family, Matt,' Reid said. 'I need to get them away from Hereford.'

'Where?'

'Up in Derbyshire — my uncle owns a small lodge in the Peak District. It's tucked away, quiet. I reckon we could stay there for a few days.'

'Could Damien go with you?'

Reid nodded. 'What about you?'

'You and Damien go and hide for a few days,' Matt said. 'I'll go off with Ivan. Damien and you can watch each other's backs, and as long as Ivan doesn't know where you are I reckon you'll be OK. Stick together at all times, and the assassin won't be able to touch you. Damien is as good a man in a fight as anyone in the Regiment.'

'And you?'

'Like I said, I'll keep an eye on Ivan,' said Matt, 'watch him like a hawk.'

And I'm going to question him about that missing tape.

* * *

Matt glanced at his watch before punching the number into the payphone. It was just after ten in the morning, an hour later in southern Spain. The Dandelion playgroup should be on its mid-morning break.