"Our problems? My only problem is that I might not get paid for doing my job. Here's how I see it: we can assume that the book is what Mr. J wants, give it to him, get paid, and potentially as a side effect empower him to doom the world or some such; not what I'd call a great idea. Or we could try to destroy the book, potentially unleashing the magical equivalent of a good old-fashioned H-bomb in our general vicinity, and then find out (assuming we survive long enough) that Mr. J won't pay us because we can't deliver; I'm not a fan of that one, either. Or we can meet with Mr. J, get paid for hitting the convoy--we can't be blamed for his bad intel--and then find out how to safely dispose of the book. And you know, if that means we need to go find the Press of Doom or whatever, hell, that sounds fun; count me in."
Glancing at the cases next to him, Hank calls out to the troll, "hey, Marak--you ever try one of these drinks? They any good?"