Stephen Leather - Cold Kill

Shepherd flicked to BBC1. There had been a bomb on a Circle Line Tube near Liverpool Street station. On the Piccadilly Line between King’s Cross and Russell Square. On the Circle Line at Edgware Road. A fourth had destroyed a bus in Tavistock Square.

Shepherd stared at the screen in horror. A news reporter said that no one had claimed responsibility for the carnage, but Shepherd knew it wouldn’t be long before al-Qaeda took the credit. Innocent men, women and children had been murdered, and the terrorist organisation would claim that they were casualties of war.

Shepherd felt sick. He’d done his best – he’d given everything he could – but he hadn’t stopped the killing. He’d taken out one terrorist cell but there had been another in place, who had carried out their murderous mission and would already be in hiding. He’d won one battle and saved lives – Yokely had been right on that score – but the terrorists were winning the war. There had been dozens of deaths, and hundreds of casualties. Maybe the American was right. Maybe the only way to beat the terrorists was to take them out before they committed atrocities. But Shepherd wasn’t sure if that was a line he was prepared to cross. Not yet, anyway. He was sure of one thing, though: he’d made the right decision to move out of London. The capital city would not be safe for many years to come.