Knife Edge

9.52 A.M.

DI Calloway held the two-way close to his ear, his gaze fixed on Julie Neville.

She was only three feet from the policeman now and he could see how pale her features were, her eyes red-rimmed and slightly sunken. She was holding the gate as if for support, fearing that if she loosed her grip she would fall. He could see her trembling and he realised it was not because of the chill wind.

'Are you sure?' Calloway said into the two-way.

'Sure about what?' Mason wanted to know.

The DS could hear only his superior's side of the conversation; Doyle's hissed words were little more than a static blur.

'Are you all right, Mrs Neville?' Calloway asked, the two-way still pressed against his ear.

Now he was reluctant to move, as if any sudden action might cause not only the death of this woman but also of himself and Mason.

'Just stay where you are.'

The shout came from inside number ten.

From Neville.

Calloway looked towards the house, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who had just bellowed out the order but he could see nothing.

'Show them, Julie,' Neville called.

Julie turned slowly until her back was to the watching policemen.

They both saw the small black object taped to her back, the red light winking menacingly on it.

'It's a bomb,' Neville called.

'I know what it is,' Calloway called back.

'He's bluffing,' Mason hissed under his breath.

'He's not bluffing, you stupid cunt.'

Mason turned to his left and saw Doyle standing there, his gaze also fixed on the hapless woman before him.

'How do you know it's a bomb?' snarled Mason.

'Trust me,' Doyle murmured.

I've seen enough of the fucking things up close. Including the one that nearly killed me.

'Neville's not playing games,' Doyle said.

For long seconds the three men stood motionless, all staring at Julie.

'Go on then, Neville!' shouted Doyle. 'Press the fucking button. Blow her up.'

'What the hell are you doing?' Mason said angrily, grabbing at Doyle's jacket. 'He'll kill her.'

'Get your fucking hands off me,' Doyle growled, pushing the DS away. He glared at him, those dark grey eyes boring into the smaller man like lasers. 'He's not going to kill her. Not yet.'

'Why not?' Mason demanded.

'Because she's his ticket out of here, nobhead,' Doyle hissed.

'What do you want?' Calloway called.

'How good's your memory?' Neville shouted back. 'I've got a list.'

'Go on,' Calloway said, his gaze still fixed on Julie, who was trembling before them.

'I want a car, safe passage out of here and no tails,' Neville said. 'If I see so much as a copper on a fucking pushbike I'll kill them both.'

'Is the kid wired too?' Doyle shouted.

'What difference does it make?' Neville replied.

'How do we know you won't detonate the bomb anyway?' Mason chipped in.

'You don't,' Neville told him.

Doyle took a step to his right, trying to see inside the house, to see where Neville was standing.

One clear shot was all he needed.

And if you miss?

Julie had pulled her coat back on by this time, in a vain attempt to keep out some of the chill. She was quivering madly, her face the colour of rancid butter.

'A car, safe passage out of here and no tails,' Neville repeated.

'We heard you,' Calloway called back. Then, to Doyle: 'We could put some kind of tracking device in the car.'

'He'd be expecting that,' Doyle replied. 'Just give him what he wants.'

'As easy as that?' Calloway protested.

'If you don't, you're going to be sweeping her up with a fucking dustpan and brush,' Doyle said, nodding towards Julie.

She looked helplessly at the three men.

'Even if he kills her, he's still got the kid in there with him,' Doyle reminded them. 'Do you want that on your conscience, Calloway?'

'Do you?' the DI countered.

'All I want is Neville,' Doyle told him. 'Now give him a fucking car. Let's get this shit over with.'

'You've got ten minutes to make up your minds, then I blow her to pieces,' Neville shouted.

'You haven't got the balls,' Doyle shouted back.

Julie looked frantically at the counter terrorist.

'Go on, Neville, spread her all over the street,' Doyle persisted. 'And then what? Kill your kid? If you do, you've got nothing to bargain with. And, as soon as they're gone, I'm coming in after you.'

'Who the fuck are you anyway?' Neville shouted angrily.

'Doyle. Counter Terrorist Unit. I know you, Neville. I know how your mind works. I've been where you've been, for what it's worth.'

'You don't know anything about me, Doyle,' Neville roared back.

'I know more than your wife. I even know how many times you shake your dick when you've had a piss.'

'You're full of shit. Now get me that fucking car or I'll kill her,' Neville bellowed. 'You've got nine minutes now.'

'Even if you get away from here, I'll still find you,' Doyle assured him.

'Try it.'

'I'll guarantee it.'

'Eight minutes,' Neville called.

Doyle walked away from the gate and looked at Calloway.

'Give him the car,' he said flatly.