Greed

'The man from Five,' he said. 'He's connecting the video cameras to base. So they can send reinforcements if anyone comes to get us. Kazanov is going to go crazy. We'll have to get rid of it all before we leave.'

Reid took a swig from his beer bottle. 'And where are they going to come from? London?'

'They probably won't come at all,' said Matt, sitting down next to him.

'It's not about helping us,' said Reid. 'It's about watching us.'

* * *

Matt picked up the mobile phone and walked back into the kitchen. Jane was upstairs, struggling to get the children off to sleep. Some paella was cooking on top of the stove, Reid stirring it occasionally, and a jazz channel was playing on the radio. A bottle of rose wine was uncorked on the table. Just a nice English family on holiday in Spain, thought Matt. Except someone is trying to kill us.

'Yes,' Matt said into the phone.

'Anton Heuhle here.'

Matt snapped to attention: this was the fence Damien had been using. 'The deal's on,' he said flatly. 'We'll meet you as arranged.'

There was a pause on the line. 'Has something gone wrong?' said Heuhle.

He must have heard something in my voice.

'Nothing's wrong,' said Matt firmly. 'The gear's worth thirty million, and we're selling it to you for ten. That's all you need to know. But it will be me making the pick-up, not Damien.'

Matt cut the call. He walked across the room to where Reid was standing. 'That was Anton Heuhle,' said Matt. 'He's the fence that Damien was going to use.'

'How did he know how to find you?'

'Damien gave him my mobile number, told him to get in touch with me if he didn't hear anything. He sent me a text message, and I texted him back with the new number.'

'Anyone with surveillance could have picked all that up.'

'I know,' said Matt. 'But we have to get on with getting the money.'

'Maybe they'll wait until we make the collection,' said Reid, 'take us then.'

Matt sighed. Reid was right, there was nothing safe about this mission. 'If we want the cash, we'll have to take our chances.' He paused. 'You and me, tomorrow night. You coming?'

'Who says we need to go and pick up the money?' said Reid. 'Why not get the fence to stash it away for us, wait until we've smoked out this assassin, then go get it?'

Matt shook his head. 'That's crazy,' he replied crisply. 'We have to be there when the boat gets in. I'm going, whether you come or not.'

Reid walked out towards the balcony. A wind was starting to blow in from the sea, whistling up through the rocks. 'I can't leave Jane and the kids, not at a moment like this. And I can't take them with me. It's too dangerous.'

'Then I go,' said Matt. 'I collect the money from Heuhle. I'll take the money to the cache we agreed back in Bideford. Once we decide it's OK for the family to travel, you come over and we split up the money.'

'And Ivan?'

'I reckon he'll be waiting for me,' said Matt. 'I'll be there to collect the money, and maybe he'll be there to finish me off, and take the money for himself

'And what'll you do then?'

'I'll kill him.' He turned around, looking at Reid. 'You OK with that?'

As he posed the question, he could see Reid's eyes start to change shape. 'You're bloody keen to get us all killed, aren't you. Maybe it's you,' Reid said, drawing out the words. 'Maybe it's you, Matt.'

Matt stood perfectly still, as if he had been frozen in a block of ice. The words rattled through his brain. 'What do you mean?'

Reid moved a step back. 'It all seems to be working out very neatly, doesn't it?' he said, his voice edged with menace. 'Too neatly. You set up the mission with five guys, you're in charge. You're the one person who organises everything, who pulls all the strings. Cooksley's dead, Damien's dead, and you're about to kill Ivan. I'm left alone in the house of your friend.'

The back of Matt's hand collided with Reid's cheek, sending him reefing sideways. Reid staggered backwards, holding his hand to his face where the blow had struck. 'Don't accuse me of that!' Matt shouted, his voice raw with anger. 'Those men were my friends.'

Reid charged forward, his fist ramming into Matt's stomach. Matt doubled up in pain, choking on his own breath. Pulling himself upright, Matt swung his fist backwards. He clenched his knuckles, ready to strike, watching as Reid backed away.

'Stop it!' shouted Jane, appearing from the doorway to the balcony. 'Stop it, you idiots! What are you fighting about?'

Matt looked at Reid. 'Take it back.'

'Prove it isn't true. You weren't in the hotel when Cooksley got killed. You weren't with me when Damien got killed. Looks bloody obvious to me.'

'Don't be bloody ridiculous,' Matt snapped. 'If I was going to kill you I'd have done it by now.'

Reid took a step forward. 'I don't care,' he said, putting his arm around Jane. 'You and me stay here together,' he said to her. 'I'm not letting you out of my sight.' A sullen grin started to play on his lips. 'But I tell you, Matt Browning, I'll be watching your every move. And if you try to get away or double-cross me, that precious nursery teacher of yours is dead flesh.' He ran his finger across his neck, mimicking the movement of a knife. 'She goes straight to the slaughterhouse. You understand me?'

SEVENTEEN

The train twisted slowly through the Dutch countryside. Matt sat by himself, in a smoking carriage towards the back of the train. He was sipping slowly on a cup of stale coffee, a biscuit lying half eaten at its side. He watched the flat fields stretch out into the distance, reflecting on how far he had travelled in the past two weeks, and how far he still had to go.

When a team starts breaking up, it stays broke. It's part of the iron law of screw-ups.

The KLM plane had left Malaga at ten past eight that morning, touching down at Amsterdam's Schipol airport just before eleven local time. He'd paid cash for the ticket, which had caused some consternation among the girls at the check-in desk. Not using a credit card marked you out as some kind of criminal these days, Matt realised. Only men with something to hide used old-fashioned paper money, everyone else used plastic.

I've moved on to the other side of the law now. And I might never come back.

There was a direct train from Schipol to the Rotterdam Central station, stopping at Leiden and Den Haag. The journey was only three-quarters of an hour, but Matt was grateful for the time and space to himself. He needed to sort out his thoughts. And decide what he was going to do next.

The money is like some kind of worm. It chews away at all of us.

Matt was still shocked by the way Reid had reacted the night before. They had never been the best of friends in the Regiment. But they had known each other for years; they were both Army men. Surely it couldn't be him. .

He peered out of the window, watching the countryside rush by. Whatever else, he felt certain he had been right to slip away last night after Reid had finally gone to sleep. The man was cracking. There was no other choice.

I don't know. Maybe it's Reid. He could have killed Damien when they were up in the lodge together. He could have slipped out to kill Cooksley — he would certainly have known where he was. Maybe Reid is a complete psycho.