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Five Men. One Robbery. A deadly game of greed, revenge and betrayal is about to begin.
Fresh out of the SAS, Matt Browning is down on his luck. He owes -500,000. If he doesn't get the money soon, he dies. From nowhere, he is offered a lifeline. A hit on al-Queda, sanctioned and helped by MI5. Matt gathers a small team of former SAS men to steal $10 million in gold and diamonds from the world's most deadly terrorist organisation. MI5 will give them all the equipment and information they need. No charges will ever be pressed.
Matt thinks it's the perfect crime. Safe, quick, and patriotic. But after the money is stolen, the killing starts. Someone is taking down the members of the team one by one. A silent, expert assassin is stalking the team, gruesomely murdering both them and their families. And Matt knows that he's next.
Greed is an explosive story of what happens when terrorism, money, love and jealously combust.
adrenaline pumping furiously into his heart as his legs drove him forwards. Throwing himself into the air, Matt hurled himself at the ridge. His shoulder caught the edge of the mud, knocking him sideways. With a crash he fell into a pile of leaves and roots, his head smashing into the wood, which tore a cut down the side of his face. ‘Remember Miss Christina?’ said Damien. ‘That French bird who used to take ballet class back at our nursery school? She always said you had rubbish co-ordination. I
but only a few of them would find it. Matt had been getting worried that Cooksley and Reid might not show up. By the time they arrived at 11.30 they’d already had a few beers in town. Matt got in a fresh round of drinks. Both men had changed little since the last time he had seen them: a few more hairs missing, and a few more lines etched into the skin. Cooksley was a slim, wiry man. At first sight you might think he was nervous: he stumbled over his words, and could seldom find the phrase he
hold. Then they heaved the two bodies from the bridge down the stairs. It was important to make sure all the men went down with the ship, leaving no traces on the surface of the sea. By the time they had finished their hands were smeared with blood. Reid shook his head. ‘He can’t be far.’ ‘About two miles,’ said Ivan. ‘It could take him fifteen minutes to get here. That’s if the bugger knows how to steer in a straight line.’ ‘I thought you said he knew about boats,’ said Cooksley. ‘That’s why
Sallum took two paces forwards, grabbed Danny by the hair and yanked him into the air. His mouth fell open into a scream. Sallum jabbed the gun into his open jaw and fired. The bullet went straight through his head, sending blood and skin against the wall behind him. The body wriggled, then died. Sallum released his grip on the hair, letting the body drop on the floor. Sallum looked towards Cooksley. ‘I’ll let the other boy live if you’ll do something for me.’ He reached back inside his bag,
a rented mobile phone he’d picked up at the airport, since he wanted to make sure nobody could trace the call. He’d just make the one call, then destroy it. It was Saturday, and he knew he would find her at home. There was no point in small talk. One lesson he had learnt from officers in the Regiment was that, when you had to deliver bad news, it was best done quick and straight. There was nothing to be gained by trying to soften the blow. Damien was dead, he told her, his tone flat, drained of