Private London (Private 4)

I nodded. He was right.

‘My wife, of course, paid the ultimate price. And if I could change events in time I would gladly have taken her place. Do you understand me?’

‘I do, sir,’ I said. And I did.

‘These animals who have taken my daughter. If anything goes wrong on this train journey … I want you to track them down and slaughter them.’

He looked at me, his eyes animated now. ‘Will you do that?’

‘You have my word: we won’t let this lie, Mister Shapiro. But these people are businessmen. They have a perverse logic to what they are doing. The logic means that they will keep you alive, Mister Shapiro. You and your daughter.’

‘They are terrorists, Mister Carter. I don’t believe logic is the driving force here.’

‘They are acting like terrorists but they’re not the same thing. If they detonate any explosive device on a London Underground train they will have the full and focused attention of the national police forces bearing down on them. Together with the Home Office, the anti-terrorism squad and your own Homeland Security department. They don’t want that. Believe me.’

He nodded. His eyes weak, unfocused. ‘I guess we have to believe that.’

Chapter 70

THE OVERHEAD MONITOR showed that the train would be arriving in one minute.

As I looked up at it a train clattered into the platform. Jubilee Line. False alarm.

It was very warm. One of those days you get in May which are like a glorious early summer and I was wearing polarised aviator sunglasses against the brightness of the sun.

Finchley Road is an open-air station. From there to all destinations west, the Tube is actually overground. It is at Finchley Road station heading east that the Metropolitan Line enters the tunnel network. The underground labyrinth connecting all parts of London. The Jubilee Line train left. Thirty seconds later the Metropolitan Line train came in.

It was crowded, particularly for a Sunday. But there was a big concert on late

r at the O2 Arena, the re-formed Take That were headlining and thousands of people were heading east for it.

Harlan Shapiro and I stood up as the train pulled to a stop, and headed to the door which opened opposite the seat we had been told to wait at.

Harlan Shapiro stepped aboard.

I scanned the carriages and what faces I could see I didn’t recognise. The doors closed and the train began to pull out.

I let the carriage go, then jogged alongside the train and leapt in between two of the carriages where there was a small gap for the guard to walk through.

The train picked up speed and as it went into the tunnel the lights dimmed and it became dark.

My feet flew from under me and I fell backwards towards the gap.

Chapter 71

LUCKILY SOMEONE HAD opened the window on one of the doors.

I managed to grab its top edge before I was sucked under the train.

I pulled myself upright and opened the door. A group of middle-aged women looked at me, startled. I smiled apologetically and tried to make my way through.

It wasn’t easy. I wasn’t sure what I’d hoped to achieve by getting on the train but I couldn’t just do nothing. I’d made a promise first to Hannah Shapiro and now to her father, and I intended to keep it. I made my way about halfway down the carriage when the train stopped briefly, as it often did on this stretch of track. I walked on to the end of the carriage and it started up again.

I looked through the windows between the carriages but there was no sign of Hannah or her father. I opened the door again, apologising to the people who had to move out of the way. I considered flashing them my card but decided against it. Given the circumstances, it was probably best not to let people know who I was or who I was working for.

I worked my way down through the next carriage. It was just as packed as the others. Mainly women – a lot of them in their thirties or forties. Dressed a lot younger and giggling like schoolchildren on their way to their first concert.

What would happen if the kidnappers detonated the explosives didn’t bear thinking about.