‘So it’s shit or get off the pot time, guys,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to go back to my contact at Six tomorrow, so I need to know now if we’re all signed up.’

‘You know I am,’ said Skelton.

Carr nodded: a man like Geordie, he couldn’t turn down a job like this, not in a million years. In a professional career spent mixing with brave men, Carr had never met anyone braver than Geordie Skelton. It bordered on madness, or some sort of compulsion; when everyone else was ducking, he stood taller; when everyone else was thinking about an orderly retreat, Geordie was charging forwards. It was the only way he knew.

Fred West nodded. ‘I’m in,’ he said. ‘I’ve got fuck all else do to except ponce about guarding oil wells and shagging tarts in Macau.’

Kevin McMullen ran a hand through his frizzy black bogbrush and exhaled, long and slow.

The truth – though he would never have admitted it to the others – was that he was unsure about the whole job.

Chatting it through in Geordie’s kitchen was one thing; actually going out there and doing this insane thing was another.

Some nagging doubt, buried somewhere in the back of his mind, told him it was a bad idea.

But sometimes, like it or not, you just have to dance with the devil.

‘That makes four of us, then,’ he said, in his broad Cockney. ‘The fucking missus’ll kill me if she finds out. I told her I might have a bit of nice, easy security work with Fred.’ He chuckled. ‘Best thing is, she’ll only be expecting me to earn a few grand, so I’ll have a bit left over for a blow-out.’

Fred West and Geordie Skelton laughed, but Carr looked at him seriously.

‘You sure you’re okay to come, Kev?’ he said. ‘You need to be a hundred per cent comfortable with this. Us three, we’ve got no sprogs or basically grown-up sprogs. No women to worry about. It’s different for you.’

‘Nah, mate. I need the fucking money, it’s as simple as that.’

Carr nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘And, listen, when we get back I’ll get you sorted for a job. You should have come to me in the first place. If I’d known you were struggling I’d have got you something.’

McMullen looked down, momentarily embarrassed.

‘Mate, it’s pride, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I’ve never had my begging bowl out. But I appreciate the offer, John. I’ll take you up on it after this shit’s done.’

Carr looked around the table.

‘Last chance, boys,’ he said, to the others. ‘If you want to change your minds, I’m not going to think any less of you. It’s not going to be like the Regiment. If we find ourselves in a situation, there’s no cavalry.’