Knife Edge

10.47 A.M.

Doyle thought about knocking but finally he just eased the handle down and peered around the door.

At first Julie Neville didn't see him and Doyle stood looking at her while she sat by the small bed pushed up against one wall.

She was gently stroking her daughter's forehead, gazing at her as she slept.

The room was tiny. Apart from the bed, it contained only a small wooden cabinet, a couple of plastic chairs and a small table. A cold cup of tea was perched on the table top.

Doyle glanced around the room, taking in the posters warning of meningitis, AIDS and smoking.

Leamington Park Hospital. Even in this side room he could smell that all too familiar antiseptic smell he associated so strongly with these places of healing.

He hated that smell.

Christ alone knew it was familiar enough.

Doyle had seen the inside of enough hospitals in his time.

A couple of them he'd thought he'd never leave.

He looked at Julie again.

She ran a hand through her long blonde hair and turned slightly, as if suddenly aware of his presence.

She nodded towards her sleeping daughter and pressed a finger to her lips, indicating that Doyle should remain silent.

'We need to talk,' he said softly, motioning towards the corridor beyond.

Julie got to her feet, took one more look at Lisa, then followed him out.

'Is she OK?' the counter terrorist asked as Julie closed the door behind her.

'They gave her something to help her sleep.'

'And what about you? How do you feel?'

She smiled thinly. 'Well, considering my husband tried to blow me up, demolished my house with explosives and nearly killed half a dozen coppers too, I'm fine.'

Doyle fixed her in his gaze.

She was pretty.

Like Georgie?

He offered her a cigarette.

'You're not supposed to smoke in here,' she told him, glancing around as if afraid someone would see them.

Doyle held the packet of Marlboros steady and she finally took one.

He jammed one between his lips then lit both with his lighter.

Julie took a long drag. 'I needed that,' she said, smiling.

It was her turn to run appraising eyes over him. The cowboy boots, the worn leather jacket. The long hair.

He needed a shave, she mused.

'I've already spoken to the police,' she said finally. 'They questioned me in the ambulance on the way here.'

'I'm not the police. I'm with the Counter Terrorist Unit.'

'What's that got to do with me?'

'Fuck all. But it's got a lot to do with your old man.' He raised his eyebrows. 'Want a coffee? There's a machine round the corner.'

'I shouldn't leave Lisa.'

'She'll be OK,' he reassured her. 'We can come straight back.'

Julie hesitated a moment longer then nodded. They began walking.