Knife Edge

4.46 P.M.

'Are you sure?' said PC Mark Hagan, gripping the radio more tightly.

'Come and have a look yourself if you don't believe me,' Wells snapped back. 'I'm standing here looking at them now. Baxter and Julie Neville. They're thirty feet away from me, for Christ's sake. Now call in. Quick.'

'What about the kid?'

'She's here too.'

Hagan ran a hand through his hair, sucking in a deep breath.

'Stay close to them, Rob,' he said into the two-way.

'I wasn't planning on going anywhere,' Wells assured him.

'Bingo.'

Calloway spun round to face his companion, a smile stretched across his face.

'What is it?' Mason enquired.

'Julie and Lisa Neville. We've got them,' the DI said triumphantly, still holding the phone to his ear. 'The East London Cemetery in Newham. One of the surveillance units watching Baxter just spotted them.'

'What the hell is Julie Neville doing with Baxter?'

'We'll find that out later. Right now we've got to get to the kid, she's got to be able to speak to Neville when he calls at five.'

Mason looked at his watch.

'We'll never do it in time,' he said, his breath coming in short gasps.

'We've got to,' Calloway told him.

'You'll never get her back to New Scotland Yard in time for Neville's call,' said Doyle, his eyes now fixed on the vehicles ahead of him. He was no longer interested in the pedestrians on either side. 'Is there some way you can patch his call through to one of your cars at the scene?'

'We'll try,' Calloway answered.

'Don't try. Fucking do it,' Doyle almost shouted, glancing at his watch.

'There are more mobile units closing in on the cemetery now. They can't escape.'

'You mean Julie Neville and her daughter aren't in custody yet?' Doyle said incredulously. 'How the fuck is the kid supposed to talk to her father if you haven't even grabbed her yet?'

'If we move in too fast they could run for it. Julie Neville could escape again.'

'And if you don't move fast enough Neville's going to detonate that bomb. Grab them, Calloway, for Christ's sake. Them and Baxter.'

Doyle hit his horn as the car ahead of him hesitated at a green light.

'Where are you now?'

'Coming up to Westminster Bridge,' Doyle told Calloway. 'I'll be with you in about ten minutes. If I'm lucky.'

He hit the horn again, almost nudging the Fiesta in front to one side in his haste.

Kenneth Baxter and Julie Neville.

What the fuck was going on?

Doyle pressed down on the accelerator when he could, constantly striking the horn in an effort to move the traffic which clogged the road ahead of him.

Again he looked at his watch.

'No fucking way,' Doyle hissed, his tone edged.

With frustration?

With defeat?

With the certainty that, this time, they were too late.