The 10:45 to Paris leaves from platform 4. First class carriages are towards the far-end of the train.”

Brian picked up his briefcase and started walking towards the train. His gait, upright and pronounced, illustrated his military background. Having served in Afghanistan with 3 Commando Brigade just a few months prior, he was no stranger to putting his life on the line; only this time it wasn’t “for Queen and Country”. Finding a seat which faced the direction of travel, he sat down and unfolded a newspaper which was tucked under his arm.

He met Julian in a pub just off Stowes Road in Barking, London. Jules, as he liked to be known, was a tall man, with a large hooked nose, giving away his French background, no matter now hard he tried to hide his accent. He walked up to Brian, who was sitting at the counter staring into a pint of beer.

“Brian?”

“Yes?”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Brian turned to look at Julian, and narrowed his eyes, locking in on Julian’s, forcing Julian to ease his head back.

“Look mate, I only started drinking here coz I was told this place is popular with ex-services. Now you look too ponced up to be that, and it pretty obvious I don’t look like a puff, so whatever it is, piss off.”

 “I know what you are.” Julian replied in a knowing fashion.
“That’s why I’m here. You’ve got ex-marine written all over you”.

Brian’s glare slowly eased into an expression of cautious curiosity. It’s not like that many people can walk into a public place and pick out an ex-marine, let alone have enough confidence to walk up and tell him that. Brain was sure that this faux-French man was looking for something more that the opportunity to buy him a drink.

“Who are you, and what the hell do you want?”

“Like I said, can I buy you a drink?”

This time, Julian’s tone was more assertive, trying to show his dominance on the situation. Brian wasn’t one to be intimidated. Brian motioned the bar tender to come over to him.

“Get this French ponce a Daiquiri, and tell him to piss off.

The bar tender, used to dealing with truculent ex-military types smiled. Looking at Julian, he said

"Excuse me Sir, but this gentleman would prefer it if you sit over there. I'll fetch you a drink. What would it be?"

"Just a moment." Julian put his hand, palm up to the bar tender, and pulled out a roll of cash from his designer leather jacket; throwing a fifty down on the counter.

"I've got it covered. A glass of tap water… and give him the change. I think he needs it.", gesturing his head towards Brian.

"Okay Sam, I think me and….."
"Jules."

Laughing under his breath, Brain continued.

"…. and Jules need a bit of privacy."

The bar tender left. Brian turned to face Julian, his face how full of aggression.

"Okay, you've pissed me off and got my attention. Before I smack you in the face, why don't you tell me what's this all about?"
    
Julian smiled, "How about I make you a proposition? Something that will keep you out of this dump for a week or two, and give you a bit of pocket money."

"Pocket money?"

"Yes, ten grand should be enough to get you by for a while."

Brian looked at Julian with suppressed bemusement.

"What? You asking me to rob a bank?"

"Not quite. Tell you what, meet me at The Atlas tonight at 11. You know, that nightclub on Broad Street. Here's 100 pounds… get something half-fashionable so you get in!"

Julian then stood up and reached out his hand to Brian, offering a handshake. Brian just stared at him, trying to gauge how serious this man was. Julian slowly withdrew his hand and grinned. He then turned to the door, and walked out.