Free Greed by Chris Ryan Page A

an empty pizza carton. Kneeling down, he shook Reid on the shoulder. 'Wake up, man,' he said. 'We need to talk.'

Reid sat bolt upright, his expression angry, his fists clenched as if he were about to throw a punch. Instinctively Matt ducked away: he'd felt one of Reid's blows on his jaw before – they'd fallen out over a girl – and he'd promised himself never to take another one. He had a punch that would rock Mike Tyson.

Reid looked at Matt, blinked, then grinned. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Cooksley told me where to find you,' Matt replied. 'He said you'd be kipping down here for a couple of nights. Clean yourself up and let's go get some food. I want to talk to you.'

Reid struggled up from the mattress and walked towards the bathroom. He was still wearing the jeans and the sweatshirt he'd had on the night before, and Matt could still smell the beer on his breath. Matt looked around the room. He'd known some guys to doss down in some rough looking places for a few nights when they needed to and not let it get to them. But this was a hovel. A small house about five miles from the village, set amid a group of three agricultural buildings, it belonged to a farmer who owned apple estates along the Welsh borders. At harvest time, farmers like that bring in cheap labour to pick the fruit. This was where the labourers would sleep. There was one sofa, two mattresses on the floor, and what only the most optimistic estate agent could call a kitchen – a sink, a kettle and an electric ring encrusted with old baked beans. Paper was hanging loose from the walls, the single uncovered bulb hanging from the ceiling was broken, and a bucket in the corner was collecting the water that dripped through the roof. What Reid was doing here, Matt had no idea. But he could see why he was on Alison's list.

 

Dressed in a fresh pair of chinos, with his chin shaved and his hair combed, Reid didn't look particularly successful or prosperous, but at least he didn't look like a tramp. They drove in silence back to Hereford, parked the car, and headed towards Ascari's Cafe on West Street. Reid had hand-rolled a pair of cigarettes in the car and now he lit one, putting the other in his pocket. It was already nearly noon, but Ascari's served breakfast all day and it was the best fry-up in town. Greasy, protein-rich food was what they both needed. It would settle their minds, and then they could talk.

What's happened? Matt asked himself as they walked through the street. She'd been working as a waitress by night and studying to be a beautician during the day when Reid met her, and Matt had first met her at a squadron Christmas party. Way out of your league, they'd told Reid. This was a woman who didn't need to study beauty, she was already there. But, Matt admitted later, they were jealous as well. Jane was the best-looking woman any of them had ever been out with. Tall, with dark hair and strong cheekbones, she held herself like a princess. Reid had fallen hard, and never so much as looked at another girl after that. So what's happened? Matt wondered. Reid and Jane lived just down the road from Cooksley in Pembridge. They had a lovely house, two kids, Eddie and Chloe. Matt had been with him in Bosnia when Eddie was born, and he'd never seen anyone so happy. When he got the camcorder film from Jane of Eddie taking his first steps, he risked being RTUd by breaking into a UN warehouse to steal the batteries to get the camcorder working. He risked his career just to watch a baby waddling across the floor.

So what's he doing sleeping in a farm labourers' barn five miles from his family? How do our lives get so tangled up?

A plate of eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, black pudding and chips landed in front of him. Matt pitched some ketchup on the side of the plate, and loaded the first forkful of sausage into his mouth. 'You've got a lovely wife, and two nice kids,' he said. 'What are you doing kipping down in a place like that?'

'Sometimes the