Matthew allowed surprise to flash across his face at the bodyguard's incisive, even piercing, question. She had hit the nail on the head, quite frankly; they didn't, in fact, have anyone left to fight the Dark Lord, or any of his followers. Save, of course, for one man who was having some second thoughts about the new regime-- one man who was too cowardly to do anything to stop them himself.
But no, Matthew reassured himself, for perhaps the millionth or even billionth time since he had begun to have his doubts about Lord Volodemort, there was nothing one man could do, not against the might of the British Ministry, as it stood now.
And now he thought of something truly devious: who would know, if he told the Israeli representative the plain, unvarnished truth about the new regime; there was no one else in the room who spoke Hebrew, after all! But then, he came back to his senses; that exclusivity of contact with the Israelis would mean that when Israel declared war on its parent country, in order to set things right, Matthew's treachery would be known at once, and he would be... executed, most likely-- tortured to death by his former comrades-in-arms, who still thirsted for the blood and pain of their "enemies" even in peacetime! No, that wouldn't suit Matthew at all...
And so he struggled valiantly to come up with the appropriate response to Irit Barak. "I... that's not true, madame. I mean, we replaced all our Aurors--" With Dark Wizards, rather than those who once fought them-- "and the D.M.L.E. -- the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, that is -- is stronger than ever under its NEW head, Bellatrix Lestrange...!" If by "stronger" one meant "crueler" and "harsher" -- but then again, Matthew could probably say that much to Irit, and she would most likely enjoy it. She struck him as rather cruel, herself...