Knife Edge

8.58 A.M.

'Is he insane?'

Sean Doyle looked up and saw that the question was directed towards him.

'Neville?' he mused, then shook his head.

'How can you be sure?' Calloway asked. 'If he's crazy, he's unpredictable, there's no telling what he might do next.'

'He's not crazy,' Doyle said, a note of assurance in his voice. He was sitting on the floor of the

Portacabin, back propped against one wall, legs stretched out in front of him. On the floor next to him was a half-empty cup of tea and a sausage sandwich. The meagre provisions had been brought by a uniformed man five minutes earlier.

Calloway was seated on the only chair in the Portacabin.

DS Mason was perched somewhat awkwardly on the corner of the desk.

'If Neville's crazy, then so is every other guy in the Parachute Regiment,' the counter terrorist said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

'How many others have held their wife and kid at gunpoint lately?' Mason sneered.

'You don't know how his mind works,' Doyle said.

'And you do?'

'I've seen what he's seen, been through what he's been through.'

'You sound as if you feel sorry for him,' Calloway said.

'I understand him, there's a difference. That doesn't mean I agree with him,' Doyle murmured.

'I reckon he's a fucking nutter,' Mason interjected.

'You read his files,' Doyle said, munching on the sandwich. 'There was nothing in there to suggest he was unstable, was there?'

'I'm sure Fred West was a good laugh after a couple of pints,' the DI said, derisively. 'All I know, Doyle, is that we've got an armed man in that house over there, holding his wife and daughter hostage.'

'Our job is to get them out safely,' Mason added.

'The wife and kid are your concern. I'm only interested in Neville,' Doyle said, swallowing some tea.

'You still haven't told us exactly what that interest is,' Calloway reminded him.

'If I were you, Calloway, I'd be more concerned about the woman and child.'

'So, what ideas have you got? How do we get them out without getting them both killed?' the DI wanted to know.

Doyle shrugged.

'Come on, hotshot, you're supposed to be the expert,' Mason chided.

'Look, porky,' Doyle sneered, seeing the colour spreading through the DS's cheeks. 'This is a fucking siege, in case you hadn't noticed. There's a pissed-off para shut up in his house with two hostages, surrounded by plods and, as far as we know, armed to the fucking teeth. You make the wrong move and you're going to have a bloodbath on your hands. He'll kill the woman and kid first, then he'll either top himself or he'll start on you boys. My guess is he'll start putting it about if you try to storm the place, so I hope you've got a good supply of body bags. Neville's not playing fucking games and, until we find out exactly what he wants, there isn't a thing any of us can do but wait.'

'For how long?' Mason snapped. 'He could be holed up in there for days.'

'Give it another couple of hours then shut off all electricity and gas. We might as well make it as uncomfortable for him as possible,' Doyle offered.

'And the wife and kid?' Calloway said. 'It'll be uncomfortable for them too.'

'They're being held prisoner by a geezer with one or more guns, can life get that much worse?' Doyle mused. 'If someone had a gun to your head would you really notice if the fucking heating was on or off?'

'What else?' Mason asked.

'You need to know where they are inside the house,' Doyle said, getting to his feet. 'You've got plans, haven't you?'

The DI nodded and indicated the plans on the table.

Doyle glanced at them.

Three rooms downstairs. A sitting room to the front. A dining room and a kitchen. The front door opened into a reasonably large hall. The stairs were directly ahead. Beneath them was what appeared to be a toilet.

The upper level consisted of three bedrooms, two facing the front, and a bathroom.

'If you rush the place he's got two very good vantage points to pick you off from,' Doyle said pointing at the front bedrooms.

'The houses on either side have been evacuated,' Calloway interjected. 'The others five up and down on either side of number ten are empty, the occupants have already left for work. The place is isolated.'

'Is the rear covered?' Doyle asked.

'We've got men in both of the gardens on either side,' said the DI. 'Neville couldn't get out that way even if he wanted to.'

Doyle didn't answer. 'What's that?' he asked, tapping the plan.

The two policemen peered intently at the sketched area.

'It's an attic,' Calloway said. 'So what?'

'Somewhere else to hide,' Doyle said.

'So, what do we do?' the DI asked.

Doyle looked at number ten London Road, gazing at the curtained windows.

'Try and get some men closer,' he said quietly.

'But you said he might open fire on them if they rushed it,' Mason reminded the counter terrorist.

Doyle smiled thinly.

'I'm not talking about going in the front door,' he said. 'There's another way.'