As Station Approach declined, a partitioning wall between the two roads turned to iron railings. Sam glanced right and saw the bike. He stamped the accelerator pedal as Raynor opened up the bike’s throttle.
The two roads met at a mini-roundabout. Raynor took the right side of it, Sam the left. A queue of taxis waited to join the snake of vehicles coiling around the railway station, forcing Raynor a little further left than he wanted. The bike made contact with the car, forcing both parties to swerve slightly. Raynor wobbled, but managed to control the vehicle. Sam had to brake hard and narrowly avoided rear-ending a parked car.
Raynor was in front as they approached a sharp right hand bend, entering a short tunnel under the railway lines. A low barrier separated the lanes. While the right-hand lane was wider, Raynor decided to err on the side of caution and stay left. He had to slow to navigate past a speed bump.
Sam almost had to stop to ensure that he didn’t damage his car on the speed bump. The height of the obstacle would have ripped the front from the car if he’d taken it at any speed. This allowed Raynor to accelerate toward the corner. Raynor, however, had to slow down more than Sam in order to safely navigate the sharp right-hand bend. Once around the corner, Raynor accelerated into the darkness of the tunnel beneath the railway lines. He flicked a switch on his handlebars and his lights came on. The roar of his engine echoed as he sped to the next corner, this time not such a sharp left-hander.
Sam was over the bump and speeding around the first bend. He turned a dial to the right of the steering wheel and his headlights popped up from the bonnet. He sped toward the left-hand bend that Raynor had just exited. As he came round the corner, he caught a glimpse of Raynor making a left turn onto Lambeth Palace Road. The bike gained speed, but Sam reacted quickly, using the power of every horse he had in the small engine.
Sam saw the bike. It was losing him. But then he saw tyre smoke. A lorry had pulled out of Royal Street, obviously not noticing Raynor. The bike snaked and slid but Raynor controlled it and managed to avoid a collision. Sam checked the oncoming lane. There was nothing coming. He slalomed the Elan through a right-turn filter lane and ended up on the wrong side of the road. This allowed him to avoid the lorry without losing too much momentum. The road narrowed and Sam was right on Raynor’s tail.
Without warning, Raynor left the road and mounted the pavement. Avoiding bollards, park benches and trees, he opened up the throttle and sped into Lambeth Palace Gardens. Sam braked hard. There was no way he could get through the gates. Worse still, there were another two exits from the park and no way of knowing which one Raynor would exit through. Sam stopped in the bus lane. He hit his steering wheel with the palms of his hands ‘Shit!’ he sat back in his seat, closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.
He sat for a couple of minutes, pissing off bus drivers, his head in his hands. Then he started the car and re-joined the traffic on Lambeth Palace Road. He crossed Lambeth Bridge, turned left and headed back to Thames House. On his arrival, he pulled up in the blue no parking zone and got out of the car. An armed police officer approached him.
‘Sorry sir, you can’t leave that there, it will be towed within a few minutes, and then destroyed.’
Sam flashed his ID, the police officer didn’t look impressed. ‘Excuse me sir, can I take a closer look at that please?’
Sam removed the lanyard from around his neck and thrust it into the outstretched hand of the officer. He then said.
‘Get on your radio and call Grant Bray, Head of Counter Terrorism. Tell him Sam Edwards wants to leave his car outside in case he needs to leave quickly to pursue Raynor. I’m sure you’ve heard of Raynor? He’s the one who’s been blowing up the city.’
The police officer was stoic. He would make a great Queen’s Guard. Sam pointed toward The Shard.
‘You see that? Well I’ve just been chasing the fucker responsible. He’s also left a device just across the river, next to the Eye. My boss, Jayshree Virani, is there now as a bomb disposal expert tries to disarm it.’
The officer changed stance. He couldn’t afford to hold up an MI5 agent in pursuit of the country’s most wanted man.
‘I’ll make the call, sir, please wait here. If this is a lie, however, I’ll be arresting you. Understood?’
Sam nodded. ‘Just make the call.’
The officer walked away. Sam could see him using his phone. After what seemed like agonising minutes, but which was, in fact, only around twenty seconds, the officer walked back.
‘Terribly sorry, Mr Edwards. Mr Bray has instructed me to guard this car as if my life depended on it. I’m to assist you in any way possible.’
‘Thank you.’ Said Sam, relaxing slightly. ‘Just make sure nobody tows it away.’ He smiled. ‘It’s a classic.’
Sam turned and sprinted up the steps into Thames House.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘Well did you see it? Please tell me you saw it’. Dave was staring up at the armed officer. Wadsworth remained straight-faced. Serious. ‘See what?’ he asked.
‘The fucking Maserati. You can hardly miss it, it’s a Maserati. A Quattroporte. You know Quat-tro-por-te. It means four-doors.’
Dave was over his brush with death, and now had a personal gripe with Wadsworth for ridiculing him to his best mate.
‘No sir.’ Wadsworth replied. ‘I don’t believe I did. We’re an armed response unit, sir, not traffic police. We had weapons to prepare.’ He raised his MP5, as if to prove what he was saying. ‘Checklists to run through. We didn’t have time to play I Spy, I’m afraid.’
He turned and started to walk away, chuckling and talking to himself.
‘I spy with my little eye, something beginning with Q. Is it Quattroporte Gov? Yes it is, well done Hopkins, your turn.’
‘Twat.’ Dave muttered to himself before shouting, ‘What about number plate recognition. You know, that ANPR, or whatever it’s called. I read about it once in a Peter James novel.’
Wadsworth replied. ‘Congratulations on your reading ability, sir. A fine achievement. With regard to ANPR, regional traffic control will be able to search for specific number plates. Do you happen to know the registration number of the Quat-tro-por-te in question?’
Dave shook his head. There must be other ways to track this car. Then it dawned on him. Track the car. It might have tracking hardware fitted. He walked down the hall after Wadsworth.
‘Excuse me, Inspector?’ He called to the other man’s back. Wadsworth stopped and turned to face Dave, aware that Dave was just trying to wind him up.
‘Chief Inspector.’ He corrected Dave.
‘Yeah, whatever. Can you, the Old Bill I mean, not you personally, can you get into car tracking systems?’
The chief inspector signed.
‘Sir, tracking systems are sold, fitted and monitored by private organisations, not the police.’
Wadsworth turned his attention back to his squad. He was part way through an impromptu debriefing. Dave studied the floor for a moment, thinking.
A few seconds passed, his brow creased more as he tried to find a solution. With a smile on his face he took his phone from his pocket and made a call.
‘Hello Dave, how’s it going? Did you ID Thomas?’ Asked Mickey.
‘ID him?’ Dave asked, an incredulous tone to his voice. ‘He shot me!’
Before continuing his dramatic tale, he remembered how much time he’d wasted when over-elaborating the facts to Sam. He promptly added.