‘Kev reckons they’ll be here about eleven,’ said Carr. ‘Fred’s down in Brighton seeing some bird. Kev was going to wait for him to get up to London on the first train this morning.’

Skelton nodded, and took Carr’s overnight bag. ‘Let’s get you squared away and get a bacon sarnie inside you.’

After that and a brew, Skelton said, ‘I’ve just bought some more land. Let me show yous.’

They walked out of his house and up the hill at the back. From the top, they could see into Brecon, and the Beacons where they’d spent so many filthy, wet, lung-busting days in training.

Skelton pointed to a distant line of trees.

‘From there,’ he said, with a long sweep of his hand, ‘to that farmhouse over there.’

‘Jesus,’ said Carr. ‘How much?’

‘Just under one-point-three mill,’ said Skelton.

‘Jesus,’ said Carr, again. ‘How did they get a tight bastard like you to pay that?’

‘It’s an investment, mucker,’ said Skelton, with a grin. ‘Hundred and eighty acres, and they’re not making it any more. I had the final stage payment from selling the firm, and eighteen grand a hectare’s a good price. Plus it’s all rented out to the local yokels, so I’m making coin that way, too. Bought it in trust via my sister, so Karen’s not getting her hands on it.’

‘You sure that’s legal?’ said Carr.

‘Solicitor says it’s sound as a pound.’

The two men sat down on a giant block of old red sandstone which marked the top of the hill, and looked out over the lush green countryside below, enjoying the golden heat of the morning sun.

In the distance, Carr could see a blue combine harvester slowly working its way through one of Geordie’s fields, sending up a cloud of yellow dust behind it.

‘You sure you want in on this?’ he said, eventually. ‘It’s not like you need the money.’

He waved away a wasp.

‘Not that that’d stop you wanting it, mind you,’ he said. ‘Your house is built out of fifty pound notes, and you still wear Primark pants.’

Which was true, basically. In his nearly twenty years in the SAS, Skelton had never knowingly bought the first round, nor the last, and his wallet was no more than a rumour to many of the soldiers he’d served with.

Geordie chuckled. ‘You’re a fucking sweaty sock, man,’ he said, taking off his black beanie and rubbing his close-cropped hair. ‘I knew you’d have negotiated hard. Go on, then.’

‘Hundred and fifty grand. Cash, obviously.’

‘Contingent on success?’

‘No,’ said Carr. ‘Three hundred grand if we’re successful.’

‘That’s what we’re all on, is it?’ said Skelton, with a sly look.

‘Is it fuck,’ said Carr. ‘You three, aye. But I’m setting the job up, so my deal’s my deal.’