'Where are we going?'
Doyle heard Lisa speak but the words didn't seem to register.
He glanced towards Nelson's Column, which was, as usual, surrounded by tourists. The pavement was thick with pigeons, the continual flapping of t heir wings sounding like some unearthly round of applause. One of the birds waddled across Doyle's path until a small child came bounding out of a huddle of tourists nearby and chased it away.
Doyle glanced at the child, who promptly ran back to the welcoming arms of its mother.
He could hear the sound of the fountains in Trafalgar Square and, as he looked again, he saw two people sitting on the low stone wall around one of them, feet dipped into the water.
Close by, another couple were tossing pieces of bread to an ever-increasing multitude of pigeons.
Cameras were clicking. He could hear laughter.
He felt Lisa's hand pulling at his.
'Where are we going? I'm tired.'
'We're nearly there,' he said, pulling her along with him when she slowed down.
Nearly there.
Was it nearly over? Really over?
Would Neville be waiting or would it be as Doyle planned? Would he be a moment or two ahead of the ex-para? Would he have time to pick his ground?
He almost smiled to himself.
How many times had he done this?
How many times had he walked or driven towards a place where he knew he might lose his life?
He didn't know. Didn't care.
If death awaited him then so be it. He had no fear of death.
A man he'd once met had told him that death held no fear for someone who had nothing to live for.
Doyle had killed that man but he'd agreed with the sentiment. And for him, personally, there was nothing left.
Neville could be waiting for him now at the appointed place, fixed by Doyle himself.
The ex-para would try anything to get his daughter back.
Doyle had to ensure it did not end that way.
He must get Neville.
He would.
He didn't give a fuck about the bombs and the lost lives, or how many more would die. This was personal. He'd been ordered to kill Neville and he would.
Are your orders so important?
Doyle looked down at Lisa as they crossed the road.
Will you shoot her father down before her eyes?
The counter terrorist told himself that Neville wasn't even her father.
Who fucking cared?
She wouldn't know that.
As they crossed the road, Doyle found himself slowing his pace slightly. It was as if he wanted to delay the final confrontation as long as possible. He felt no fear. He knew that Neville would not kill him. He'd try but Doyle knew that once he had the expara in his sights there would be only one outcome. And even if he did die, he'd still make fucking sure he took Neville with him.
So why delay?
Perhaps Neville was right. Perhaps they were alike. Mirror images of the same man with the same feelings, the same beliefs. The same needs.
Bollocks.
Doyle slipped a hand inside his jacket and felt the bulk of the Beretta there. As he walked he could feel the. 45 PD Star bumping against his boot, secure in the ankle holster.
'Remember what I told you,' he said, looking down at Lisa. 'Stay close to me. Don't try and run.'
'Am I going to see my dad now?'
Doyle nodded and kept walking, eyes now alert, scanning faces, darting back and forth for the first sight of Neville.
He looked at his watch.
They crossed the road beneath Admiralty Arch and Doyle glanced up the Mall towards Buckingham Palace.
He had no idea from which direction Neville would arrive.
All he knew for sure was that he would come.
It was almost time.
'You've done what?' roared Detective Inspector Vic Calloway, taking a step around the desk, his eyes aflame.
'Neville would have set off those bombs anyway,' DS Mason said, taking a step backwards. 'Doyle won't catch him in time, and even if he does it won't matter. He'll set those fucking bombs off, Vic, I'm telling you.'
'You went behind my back,' Calloway shouted. 'You gave an instruction which could cause dozens of deaths without consulting me. If Neville is killed before we find out the location of the bombs, Christ alone knows how many more people are going to die.'
'I told you, he'll kill anyway. He'll detonate the bombs even if he gets his daughter.'
'You don't know that.'
'Well, I wasn't taking any chances. When he shows up, he's dead.'
'Call the chopper now, cancel the order.'
Calloway was standing only inches from his companion.
'It's too late,' Mason said. 'The chopper was told to break all radio links once it moved in for the final kill. It's doing that now.'
'Where?' Calloway demanded.
'Admiralty Arch,' Mason informed him. 'It's over, Vic.'
'Fucking right it's over.' Calloway snatched up the phone. 'If anyone other than Neville is hurt, I'll have your fucking badge for this.'