waiting for you to do an impression of fucking Hiroshima when it gets to eight o'clock.'
'You know the rules, Doyle.'
'Fuck the rules, fuck the game and fuck you.'
'I'll let off another bomb in thirty seconds unless I speak to my daughter. The clock's running, hero.'
'Let it run, fuckhead.'
'You ought to know me well enough by now, Doyle. I'll do it.'
'I know you'll do it and I don't care. You can let off as many bombs as you like, you can kill however many people you want. I couldn't give a shit. You know why? Because I've got the only thing in this world that means anything to you. The only thing you value in your whole miserable fucking life is here with me now.'
'If you hurt her Doyle I'll-'
'You'll what?' Doyle hissed, scornfully. 'Bomb another part of London? Big deal. Be my guest. Now you listen to me, Neville, I'm changing the rules of this game. From now on we play my way. I don't know why it took me so long to suss this out. Are you listening to me?'
Silence at the other end.
'Neville, I hope you are listening. For your daughter's sake I hope you're listening. You and I are going to meet. But it'll be where I say and when I say. Got that?'
'And what if I don't agree?'
'I'll kill your daughter.'
'You're bluffing.'
'Do I sound like I'm bluffing? Are you willing to take that chance? Like I said, you can let off all the bombs you want but the only way you're ever going to see your daughter again is if you do what I tell you.'
'The only difference between us, Doyle, is that you've got the law to hide behind.'
'I don't need the law, Neville. Now you started this fucking game, I'm going to finish it. Any bullshit and I'll kill the girl. You let off any more bombs and I'll kill her. New rules. New game, Neville. Now listen.'
7.01 P.M.
Frank Mallory had been convinced that Doyle was going to shoot the child.
He'd seen the barrel of the Beretta aimed at her head, seen the expression on the counter terrorist's face. There had seemed only one possible outcome.
The thirty-two-year-old plain-clothes policeman had watched the entire tableau in muted shock, tempted fleetingly to draw the Smith and Wesson. 38 from the holster beneath his flannel shirt, but he had watched and waited.
Watched as Doyle had spoken into the phone.
Watched as he and the little girl had headed off towards the steps which would take them back down to the station's ticket office.
Now he watched from one end of the carriage as the tube train approached Chancery Lane station, glancing up from his copy of the Standard every now and then, ensuring that Doyle and the girl didn't slip off the train unnoticed.
Mallory had no idea where the counter terrorist was taking his small charge.
No idea what he was going to do to her.
How could he point a gun at her?
Mallory thought of his own child and, as he glanced at Doyle, felt a swift but overwhelming surge of hatred for the man.
The poor little sod must have been terrified.
And yet, as the plain-clothes man watched, Lisa was sitting close to Doyle.
Probably scared to move.
The carriage was relatively full so Mallory's job was made that little bit easier. When more passengers boarded at the station, most of the seats were taken.
People were moving about in the aisle, trying to find a seat or at least a hand-hold before the train lurched out of the station.
Mallory glanced across towards where Doyle had been sitting.
He couldn't see him.
The plain-clothes man tried to control the panic which struck him like a slap in the face.
What if Doyle and the girl had slipped off unnoticed?
How the hell was he going to find them now?
Mallory leaned forward slightly in his seat.
Still no sign of Doyle, but he could see the girl.
There was a young woman sitting next to her now, occasionally smiling up at Doyle, sometimes at Lisa.
Doyle stood in the aisle gripping the handrail, his other hand dug in his pocket.
Mallory breathed an almost audible sigh of relief and settled back to his newspaper, scanning the same words he'd already looked at a dozen times and still unable to remember one of them.
As the train passed through Holborn he saw that the counter terrorist and the little girl were still on board.
So too was the young woman Doyle had given up his seat for.
She had pulled a paperback from her handbag and was scanning it, pausing every now and then to point something out to Doyle who leaned close to her as she spoke.
From his position at the other end of the carriage, Mallory couldn't hear what they were saying. All he was aware of was the warmth of the young woman's smile.
Even Doyle managed a grin a couple of times.
Lisa's face never changed expression.
That look of bewilderment and concern remained etched upon her features.
Mallory glanced at Doyle once more.
What are you up to?
It was as the train approached Tottenham Court Road station that Mallory saw the counter terrorist extend a hand towards Lisa, both helping and beckoning.
She took the hand almost fearfully.
Doyle bent his head quickly and leaned close to the young woman with the dog-eared paperback.
She laughed out loud.
Doyle and Lisa moved towards the sliding doors of the carriage as the train pulled into the station. Mallory felt his heart beating a little faster.
Take it easy.
As the train stopped, the doors slid open and Doyle stepped out, Lisa's small hand held firmly in his.
Mallory waited a second or two then followed.
7.18 P.M.
'I'm not going to hurt you,' Doyle said quietly, as they stood on the platform waiting for the train to pull in.
He looked down at Lisa who glanced up at him with watery eyes.
A man passing by heard the words and looked at Doyle warily, only continuing up the platform when he saw the steel in his warning glare.
'You told my dad you'd kill me.'
Well, would you?
Doyle looked into her eyes.
