man like Neville. He's not some dickhead with a sawn-off shotgun or a nigger purse snatcher. He's a professional. And he's right out of your league.' He pointed an accusatory finger towards the DS.
'You sound as if you admire him,' Calloway murmured.
'I don't admire him, I understand him,' Doyle said. 'I've been fighting men like him for longer than I can remember.'
The phone rang.
Calloway picked it up.
Doyle watched the expression on his face change.
'Neville,' the DI said. He pressed the button on the console to switch the phone to speaker.
'I warned you what would happen if I didn't speak to my daughter,' Neville said, his voice echoing from the speakers.
'Twelve more people killed,' Mason shouted. I hope you're happy, you mad bastard.'
'Is Doyle there?' Neville wanted to know, ignoring the outburst.
'Yeah, I'm here.'
'I need your help.'
'Fuck you,' Doyle called back.
'I want my daughter, and this time you're going to make sure I get her.'
'How?'
'You're going to bring her to me personally.'
5.16 P.M.
Silence fell upon the room.
Both Mason and Calloway looked at Doyle, who took the cigarette from his lips and stubbed it out, watching the plume of smoke rise lazily into the air. 'Did you hear what I said?' Neville asked.
Doyle didn't answer.
'We heard,' Calloway responded.
'Forget it, Neville, I'm not playing your fucking games,' Doyle told him.
'Then a lot more people are going to die, aren't they?' Neville reminded him.
'What do you want Doyle to do?' Calloway said.
Doyle shot him an angry glance, but the DI held up a restraining hand.
'Like I said, I want him to bring me my daughter,' Neville continued. 'No tricks, no double-cross. If he tries to pull anything I'll let off another bomb.'
'You'll do it anyway,' Doyle said dismissively.
'You'll have to trust me not to,' Neville chuckled.
'I wouldn't trust you to tell me what day of the week it was,' Doyle snarled.
'Here's the deal,' Neville began. 'Doyle brings Lisa to me and I won't detonate the other bombs. Any fucking about and I'll let all of them blow and that includes the big one.'
'I thought you were saving that one until eight o'clock,' Doyle said mockingly.
'Only if I don't get what I want.'
'If you blow them all you've got nothing to bargain with,' Doyle pointed out.
'Maybe, but you've got an awful lot of dead bodies on your hands if I do.'
'He'll do it,' Mason interjected.
'Don't you tell me what I will or won't do,' Doyle hissed.
'Come on, Doyle,' Neville continued. 'You wanted to find me, didn't you? I'm giving you the chance. Bring Lisa to me and you'll find me.'
'Yeah, pointing a fucking gun at my head.'
'That's a possibility,' Neville sniggered. 'So, what do you say?'
'I want to know what your game is, Neville. What's all this about? Or don't you even know any more? Is it about your daughter or is it about what went on in Ireland? You can't change it now. You can't change the past, or the future. It's over out there.'
'Maybe not.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Bombs in London, bombs in Belfast, bombs in Dublin. One city's the same as another.'
Doyle stroked his chin thoughtfully.
Bombs in Dublin.
'What the hell's he talking about?' Calloway demanded.
'He's bluffing,' Doyle said.
'Can you take that chance, Doyle?' Neville teased.
The counter terrorist was pacing the office, head bowed slightly. He swept one hand through his long hair and sucked in a deep breath.
'London today, Dublin or Belfast tomorrow,' Neville continued. 'Unless I get what I want. Unless you bring me what I want. Is it a deal?'
Take the kid. Get close to Neville. Kill the cunt.
'I'm not going to wait all fucking night, Doyle. Yes or no?'
Do it. How else are you going to find him?
'Tell me the deal.'
'Is that a yes?' Neville pressed.
'You know it is,' Doyle growled.
I'm coming to get you, shithead.
'I knew I could count on you, Doyle,' Neville laughed. 'We're two of a kind. I'm going to send you and Lisa on a little journey first, before I meet you. I'll tell you where to go and when. Just make sure you listen carefully to what I say. I'll call back with the first set of instructions.'
He hung up.
'Bastard!' Doyle shouted, then, turning to Calloway, 'I've got to talk to Julie Neville. Where is she?'
'A car is bringing her, Kenneth Baxter and the little girl here.'
'Well, let me know as soon as they get here,' Doyle instructed, heading for the door. 'Someone's got to tell Julie Neville what we're going to do with her daughter.'
'Where are you going?' Calloway asked.
'There's something I've got to do,' Doyle told him.
5.23 P.M.
Doyle paused outside the interview room for a moment, as if to compose himself, then he pushed open the door and walked in.
Julie Neville was seated on one side of a small table with a mug of hot tea cradled between her hands.
She was watching the rising steam, as if fascinated by it.
Only when the door closed did she look up, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of Doyle.
The WPC who was seated in the room with her got to her feet as Doyle nodded towards her.
She left him and Julie alone.
'We're going to have to stop meeting like this,' he said quietly.
'Am I under arrest?' Julie demanded. 'Because if I'm not, then I'd like to see my daughter.'
Doyle perched on a corner of the table and lit a cigarette.
'Your daughter's fine,' he reassured her. 'I've just seen her. She's happy enough. She's playing Snap with two coppers. I reckon she'll beat them.'
