Greed (20 page)

He started walking towards the lodge. The ground was soft under his feet. Rain had fallen during the night, turning parts of the field into mud. Sallum walked slowly, making sure he kept to the contours of the ground, checking that nobody could see him. Looking up, he saw the lights were still out in the lodge. Everybody was asleep.

He judged the weight of the rock in his hand. Accurately, he could probably throw it fifty feet and be certain of hitting his target. He walked closer, edging forward until he judged he was about forty feet from the house. Standing upright, he swung the rock behind his head, putting the full force of his shoulder muscles into the shot. The rock spun away from his hand, and a second later he could hear glass splintering. The target had been hit.

Sallum turned and started running, his feet bouncing over the ground. By the time they heard the crash and looked out of the window, he guessed he should have made it to the car. The most they would see was a Lexus pulling away and disappearing down the road.

Now they will know what it is like to incur the wrath of the Prophet.

Matt had seen Reid in some tense situations. There was a time in Bosnia when they had been pinned down in a farmhouse, with a sniper hiding in the trees right next to the building: they'd had to survive without food for three days until the man showed himself and they could kill him. But Matt had never seen Reid as shaken as he saw him now: his voice was fractured, and there was fear in his eyes.

'Do you want to see it?' he said.

Matt nodded. No man wants to see the dead flesh of a close friend, but he knew he had no choice. 'I'd better.'

The assassin is getting to us. That's part of his plan.

Matt and Ivan had driven straight up to Derbyshire after getting the call from Reid early that morning. A hand tied to a rock had been slung through the window, he said. It had Damien's credit card attached to it, and a note telling them to give the money back. You didn't have to spend long figuring out where it might have come from. Or what had happened to Damien.

Does that mean it's not Ivan? Matt wondered to himself. I was with Ivan when Damien was killed.
Maybe Reid killed both Cooksley and Damien . . .

'It's outside,' said Reid. 'I didn't want Jane or the kids to see it.'

The lodge was a simple wooden structure. It had two bedrooms, a wood-burning stove that doubled up as a cooker, and a shower room. The two children, Jack and Emily, had already filled the main room with toys and drawings: Jack was busy doing a picture of his little sister while Jane busied herself packing. She nodded at Matt, smiling but remaining silent. She knows something is up, Matt thought. She can see it in our eyes.

A woman always knows when her husband is not telling the truth.

'Over here,' said Reid, stepping out of the lodge and crossing into the field.

It was a desolate spot, high on the side of a hill, with a vicious wind whipping in from the east. A flock of sheep was grazing in the next field, and the road was just visible at the bottom of the valley, but otherwise the lodge was completely isolated. Whoever had put the hand through the window would not have been seen, reflected Matt. They could be certain of that.

He's a professional. He's not about to help us out by making a stupid mistake.

Reid stepped over a granite wall, and pointed to a pair of large stones. The hand was resting on top. The skin had started to change colour, turning to a grey-blue. Blood had stopped dripping from where it had been severed from the arm, and the fingers had been forced open when Reid took out the note.

He was my best friend, Matt thought. And it's my fault this has happened to him.

'It looks a few hours old,' said Ivan, kneeling down and examining the hand. 'I reckon he killed him first, then cut the hand off.'

Matt's mind was still full of memories of Damien: images of them running the same streets together, bunking off school, kicking footballs across the park.

Ivan stood up, unfolding the note Reid had passed to him. He looked at Matt and Reid, his eyes narrowing. 'There were five of us, and now there are three.'

Matt turned away, looking down to the valley stretching out below. 'How the hell did this man know where Damien was?' he said.

All three of them fell silent.

I can ask the question, reflected Matt. But I can't supply the answers.

'I don't like to admit it, boys, but I'm scared,' said Reid, breaking the silence. 'This guy was just a few hundred feet from my children back there. He could have come in and taken us all out the way he took out Cooksley.' He paused. 'I signed up for this mission because I needed work, and I needed a fresh start in life. Maybe we should give them the money back like they ask. I tell you, I don't care about it any more. I just want out.'

'Don't be stupid,' said Ivan, a rough edge to his voice. 'They won't take any apologies. Give the money back or don't give the money back, they'll kill you just the same.'

'It says it right here,' Reid jabbed at the piece of paper. 'Give us our money back now. If that's what they want I reckon we should just give it to them.'

'To who, exactly?' Matt said. 'It doesn't say who or what, just give it back. Christ, we don't even have the money yet.'

'It doesn't matter,' said Reid, his voice growing more and more distraught. 'Just give it back, that's all.' He stepped angrily towards Matt. 'We're going to be next if we don't do something about it.'

'You're being stupid,' Ivan interrupted. 'I used to be a terrorist, as you are so keen on pointing out. I know how these people's minds work. They want the money, but they want you dead as well. He's just saying that to try and unsettle you. You're letting them get to you.'

'The only stupid thing I've done was get mixed up in a mission with you,' said Reid.

'I've had to take enough nonsense from you,' Ivan snapped. 'How do I know you didn't kill both Cooksley and Damien?'

Matt recognised the tone in the man's voice – it was the same cruel arrogance he had heard just before Whitson was killed. 'Break it up, boys,' he said, stepping between them. He looked to Ivan, then at Reid. 'We have to stick together, and fight them together,' he said. 'That's the only way. Otherwise they just pick us off one by one.'

Matt walked alone along the ridge of the hillside. He could feel the wind curling around his ears, but a few rays of sunshine were starting to struggle through the clouds. He had told the others he would check the back of the lodge and explore the hills behind to make sure no one was watching them from a distance. But, in truth, that had been an excuse. He needed to be alone for a few minutes.

He was wearing a grey overcoat, and black leather shoes – a man dressed for the town, not the country. He was still struggling to come to terms with Damien's death. In the Regiment you got used to your friends dying – it was part of the job, an occupational hazard. You knew the risks when you signed up, and nobody expected to life for ever. But this was different. This wasn't someone he'd worked with for a few years, this was the man he'd grown up with, whose life he had shared, whose sister he was planning to marry. If I'd had a brother, this is what it would have been like to lose him.

In the Regiment it was usually some Rupert's fault that a guy got killed. This time it's my fault.

'I'm sorry about your mate,' said Reid, walking up alongside him.

Matt had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed Reid at his side. They were about two hundred yards above the lodge, with a panoramic view of the whole valley. If anyone approached, they'd be able to see him.

'I'll miss him,' said Matt.

'It's Ivan, I tell you,' said Reid. 'How else could the assassin know we were here?'

Matt shrugged. 'I was with Ivan this morning down in Hammersmith. It couldn't have been him.'

'Not personally, no,' said Reid. 'But who says he hasn't got an accomplice? He finishes you and me off, then he and his mate collect all the money. Makes perfect sense to me.'

'He didn't know where you were going,' said Matt. 'Not unless he overheard you saying something to Damien. Or he had you followed.'

'We did our best,' said Reid. 'I kept my eye on the mirror through the journey. I tucked into a couple of lay-bys, took a couple of detours by some side-roads. That should have flushed out anyone on our tail. But like I said, I reckon it's Ivan. OK, you were with him – but he could have slipped away to make a call.'

Matt said nothing.

'I think that stuff about the IRA chasing him was just a stunt,' Reid continued. 'How do we even know he was in the IRA? No – he's got an accomplice, and they're working it together. As long as we have nothing to do with him, we're safe.'

'So what do you want to do then?'

Reid paused. 'Maybe we should finish him off now,' he said quietly. 'Out here on the hills, bury him somewhere. No one will ever find the body.'

Matt took a moment before answering. 'We're not murderers,' he said. 'And we've got no evidence.'

They stood in silence for a while. A light rain had started to fall. 'We can't stay here then,' said Reid. 'We've got to lose him.'

'There's a place in Spain. I'd have to clear it with the guy who owns it, but if he agrees it's perfect,' said Matt. 'The place is wired for maximum security – cameras, light sensors, tripwires, the works.'

'And what do we tell Ivan?'

'We don't want anything more to do with him, we tell him that. If he doesn't like it, we'll just kick the hell out of him. There's one of him, and two of us. What can he do?' Matt looked down at the lodge below them. 'And if it turns out he's responsible for Cooksley and Damien dying – then we kill him. He deserves it.'

Ivan's face was drawn, his eyes bloodshot and his shoulders sagging. Matt had known the man for only a few days, but Ivan had always seemed to be in control, always knew exactly what to say, everything mapped and planned. But not now. For the first time, control seemed to be slipping from his grasp.

'We're off,' Matt said, looking at him directly. 'I'm not saying we don't trust you, but right now Reid and I don't trust anyone. So we're disappearing for a few days, until the money is ready. We're not telling you where we're going, and we don't want you to start looking for us.'

Ivan was grinding his feet into the ground. 'Each time a man dies, the share to those left standing goes up,' he said. 'Now you kick me out, and that makes five million each for the two of you.'

Matt jumped forwards and grabbed Ivan by the shoulders. 'Don't say that,' he spat. 'Damien was my best friend, and now he's dead.'

A slow chuckle started to rise through Ivan's throat. 'You think it's me, don't you?'

'We're not saying that,' Reid said.

Ivan pulled up the collar of his coat. 'You're making a big mistake,' he said. 'Sure, information is swilling around somewhere, but it's not coming from me. I thought it might be coming from the Provos, but I don't think it's them any more.'

Matt leant into Ivan's face. 'So where's it from, then?'

Ivan shrugged. 'Dig your own graves if you want to, boys, it's no concern of mine,' he said. 'What's the proposal for cutting up the money? That's all that worries me right now.'

'You'll get your share,' Matt growled.

'I'm not letting that money out of my sight.'

'We'll collect it together,' Reid said, 'the way we always planned. We'll take our shares in Rotterdam –-you know as well as we do when the cargo ship's coming in – then we'll go our separate ways.'

Ivan laughed. 'No. I'm sticking with you until I get my money.'

Matt jabbed a finger at his face. 'You heard what we said, you'll just have to accept it.'

Ivan waited for a few moments, then nodded. 'OK then – but if either of you double-cross me, I'll kill you,' he said. 'Then I'll kill your families as well. If it's the last thing I do.'

He turned to walk away. The rain was heavier now, and water was dripping down the side of his face. 'If you make it, that is,' he said, 'because it's
not
me.'

'So long as we're away from you, we'll be OK,' said Reid.

Ivan shook his head as he set off. 'A couple of bone-stupid British squaddies. You haven't figured it out yet, have you? And the rate your brains work, you never will!'

The coffee bar at Luton Airport was full. The eight-twenty Easyjet flight to Malaga was not yet ready, and looked like being delayed by up to half an hour. Reid had taken Jane and the children to have something to eat. Matt was sitting by himself. He didn't feel like anything more than a snack.

It's going to be a while before I feel like eating again.

'I was sorry to hear about Damien,' Alison sat down opposite him.