Knife Edge

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.

What about it, hardman? Would you shoot a kid?

He squeezed her hand a little harder but his expression didn't alter.

So? Would you? Or are you going soft? If the time came, could you put the barrel to her head and blow her fucking brains out?

'I need to see your dad,' he told Lisa. 'It was the only thing I could say to make him speak to me.'

Ah, very touching. Bottled it, have you?

Lisa didn't look too impressed.

There was a blast of warm air from the tunnel mouth signalling the arrival of the train.

Doyle took a step towards the edge of the platform, pulling Lisa gently with him.

'It's going to be OK,' he said, without looking at her.

She didn't hear him. The rumble of the tube train drowned out his words.

They stepped on as the doors slid open, Doyle ushering her towards the nearest seat.

If he noticed the thin-faced man in the flannel shirt step aboard at the far end of the carriage, a copy of the Standard stuck in the back pocket of his jeans, he gave no indication.

Northern line, southbound, mused Frank Mallory.

Where the fuck was Doyle going?

He stood at the far end of the carriage, not bothering with the paper this time, simply leaning against the partition, eyes scanning the other occupants of the carriage but coming to rest time and again on Doyle and Lisa.

The counter terrorist also glanced around the carriage.

Has he spotted you?

Mallory thought not. However, he had no way of being sure.

Not yet.

The train pulled into Leicester Square station, disgorged some passengers, welcomed aboard others, then pulled off once more.

Doyle and Lisa hadn't moved.

Mallory took a seat which had been vacated at Leicester Square, feeling that it was still warm when he sat on it.

This time he did pull the newspaper from his pocket but he only rested it across his lap, tapping slowly on the paper with his fingers.

He saw Doyle lean across and say something to Lisa, saw her glance at the counter terrorist briefly.

He wished he could hear what Doyle was saying. There was no way he could get closer now without alerting his quarry. The only thing to do was wait.

'So, when we see your dad, you stay close to me, right?' said Doyle, leaning close to Lisa.

'You're going to hurt us both, aren't you?' she whispered.

'Just do what I tell you and you'll be fine,' Doyle said, as reassuringly as he could.

Just don't get in the way if me or your father starts blasting.

'I need to go to the toilet,' she told him, looking almost apologetic.

'You'll have to wait,' he said, trying to soften the edge to his voice.

'But I can't.'

Doyle looked at her, pinning her in the full glare of his steel grey eyes.

'You'll have to. It won't be long now. We're nearly there.'