Contents ( 84)
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- Acknowledgements
The realisation hit him hard.
They wanted me to see them. To make me panic. To make me flee.
Michael had not escaped the danger. No. He had walked right into it. Because if someone wanted him dead and wanted it to look like an accident, this was exactly where that someone would want him to be: inches from the platform edge, with a station full of impatient commuters pushing at his back.
‘Shit.’
Michael’s eyes scanned the platform as he tried to force his way back into the crowd. It moved, but not by much. Just a few inches further from the edge. Nowhere near enough to be safe. Not while the jostling crowd kept him off balance.
Not if some faceless bastard was to shove me from within the crowd.
He could hear the train approaching now. He pushed harder. Both into the crowd and along the platform, towards the front. He had no idea why he was heading in that direction. Perhaps the familiarity of his usual spot was offering an illusion of safety.
Whatever it was, as he surveyed the crowd again Michael realised that his unexplained instinct had kept him alive.
A face he thought he recognised. A heartbeat later he placed it.
The agent from the magistrates’ court.
Michael had been right. He’d been corralled onto the platform like a steer into a slaughterhouse. And now they were ready to strike the killing blow.
SIXTY-THREE
The agent moved towards Michael with more speed than should have been possible. He was pushing through the same crowd Michael had struggled through, yet the man’s powerful body was hardly slowed by the resistance.
Commuter after commuter was physically thrust aside as he cut the distance between himself and his target.
Michael’s first impression, picked up in their short interaction in Westminster Magistrates’ Court, struck him again now. This was a dangerous man, intent on doing him harm. And for all Michael knew, he might not be alone.
He remembered Dempsey’s words:
‘None of your heroic shit this time, mate. These people, they’re well out of your league.’
In a lifetime marked by threats and by danger, Michael Devlin had never been a coward. He had always stood his ground. But never before had he had so much to lose. And never before had he been so certain that he would lose it.
He had to find another way out.
They want this to look like an accident, he thought. But what if it can’t?
The train’s cab appeared in the distance, at the dark end of the platform. With the crowd still in their own commuter trance, it was unlikely that many – if any – had noticed the two men shoving their way along the platform. A fall now could still appear innocent. A tragic mistake.
Michael’s best chance to save his life was to change that. ‘HELP!’
Michael did not stop moving towards the end of the platform as he shouted.
‘HELP! HE’S TRYING TO KILL ME!’