Mark Richmond, well-educated, young, lean, roguishly handsome- and retired small-time crook – runs a nightclub down at Le Marais, Paris. A sufferer of OCD, he has a painstaking eye for detail, runs a tight ship and keeps his new life as quiet and smooth running as possible. He is well liked and respected by his staff and clientele…the trouble is, he’s bored.

One night at the club, Mark is called down from his office by the sound of shouting. A drug dealer, caught supplying rough coke to his buyer, has a firearm trained to his head. The buyer shoots maniacally at Mark, who keeps cool and level headed. Quicker than the eye, Mark takes out the gunman with a well aimed bottle and makes a deal with the supplier to run before the police arrive…The drama has ended, but Mark is left unsettled.

Back at the apartment, Mark is aware that various items he’s stacked in order of color, size and shape have had their labels turned round and their positions changed. He checks in his bathroom; yes, the stash of money is still behind the bath-tub panel. Now he knows who has been at his apartment, the only one who’s ‘signature’ he would recognize: Andrew.

Mark finds his old buddy in crime in a pub in the red light district. He still looks the same, the cool playboy type, expensive rings on his fingers. The guy’s in town to ask a favor. He knows Mark misses the excitement of the jobs they used to pull, and he has a new proposal….the perfect heist. Mark is resolute…no way. But Andrew has news of Mark’s ex- , Michelle. Hurt to find out she has a son, Mark is drawn into the project.

Andrew takes him on board the Eurostar train, introduces him to two American accomplices, Samantha and Danny, insiders who work with the catering teams. The group is not a great mix: Danny, opportunist, isn’t that much concerned about fraternizing with the others, and Sam looks pressured.

She shows him a package containing sugar tubes…a consignment of which will make its way from Antwerp to London destined for buyers, but the plan is to switch trains at Lille and switch the package. Mark shakes his head. “I don’t do drugs”. “Think, fathead’., says Andrew. “What comes from Antwerp?” The slim sugar tubes will be filled with tiny, sparkling diamonds.