As Doyle emerged from the men's toilet on Euston station he caught sight of DI Calloway.
The policeman was standing talking to three uniformed men, one of whom was a fireman. As Doyle approached the little gathering the uniformed men scurried away towards the front of the building.
'We're not going to find it in time,' Calloway said flatly. 'I've given the order to get everyone off the station.'
Doyle nodded.
'Even if we did find it now there wouldn't be time to defuse it,' the DI continued. 'The fucker's won, hasn't he?'
'It's only the first round,' Doyle said quietly. 'There's a long way to go.'
Calloway allowed himself a sigh.
'No luck with the dogs?' Doyle asked, glancing first at his watch then at the clock high above them on the Arrivals/Departures board.
Calloway shook his head. 'We didn't have long enough.'
'I think we did,' Doyle said. 'Neville knew we'd come here. He knew we'd trace that call. It's all part of the game.'
'Some fucking game. What makes you so sure?'
'I told you before, I know how he thinks.'
'Well, it's a pity you can't read his fucking mind. Maybe we'd have found that bomb.'
'Maybe,' Doyle mused.
As he glanced around he saw more and more officers leaving the station. It seemed an orderly if somewhat speedy retreat.
'Doyle. What if the bomb isn't here?' Calloway said anxiously.
'Then we're in deep shit. Because if we can't find this one, chances are we won't be able to find the others either.'
'Could he be bluffing about the others?'
'What do you think?' Doyle began walking towards the exit. 'Come on, let's get out of here.'
They were among the last to leave the building, Doyle glancing around at the deserted station. At the shops, the ticket offices, the cafes.
'Where is it, you bastard?' he murmured under his breath.
As they stepped from the main doors, Doyle noticed that the gardens and concrete expanse which fronted the terminus were deserted, but the streets on either side and beyond the high hedge at the front were clogged with emergency vehicles of all kinds.
Fire engines. Ambulances. Police cars.
'We closed off all roads within a radius of half a mile,' Calloway briefed him. 'Just in case.'
'Any news on Neville?'
'He got away. We've got descriptions of him though, and the motorbike he was riding. We've even got the reg number. It's only a matter of time before we get him.'
'You sound very confident,' Doyle said, reaching for his cigarettes.
'He's put four of my fucking men in hospital, one of them is critical. We'll get him. He can't hide forever,' Calloway said angrily.
'He doesn't want to hide.'
The two men walked down the flight of stone steps that led into Eversholt Street.
'I thought you said you'd get him,' Calloway chided.
'I will. Whether I get him in time is another matter. He's got seven more bombs to play with after this one.' Doyle looked at his watch.
Almost time.
'Someone like Neville knows how to disappear in a big city,' he told the DI. 'Fifty thousand coppers couldn't find him if he doesn't want to be found.'
'But you can?'
Doyle didn't answer.
He glanced again at his watch.
Two minutes to detonation.
They waited.