Knife Edge

12.16 P.M.

There were three people on the pedestrian crossing ahead but Neville didn't slow down.

The pedestrians seemed oblivious to the approaching motorbike, even as its loud roar grew in their ears.

They heard sirens too.

A van sitting close to the crossing, engine idling, also presented an obstacle in the narrow road.

Neville twisted the throttle and the bike swung sharply to the right, hit the kerb, rose a foot or so into the air, then slammed down onto the pavement.

'Be careful,' screamed PC Garside as the Astra swept towards the crossing.

An elderly woman was on it, carrying what looked like a tatty shawl in her arms.

He realised as the car bore down on her that the object was a small dog.

The woman tried to scream as the police car roared past her on the crossing but she couldn't suck in enough air to produce the required sound.

The car missed her by inches.

'Christ,' roared Garside, peering out of the back window.

The old woman had collapsed in a heap, passers-by scurrying across towards her.

'I thought we'd hit her,' Garside said breathlessly.

His companion seemed more intent on keeping the fleeing Harley in sight, as Neville swung the bike back into the road.

The Astra scraped the side of a Peugeot as it turned a corner, the harsh shriek of metal on metal filling the air.

'Where the hell's the back-up?' Brenner rasped, struggling with the steering wheel. 'We're going to lose him.'

As if in answer to his entreaty, another police car pulled out from Harrison Street.

Ahead, a police bike nosed its way into traffic from Sidmouth Street.

'Block him off,' Brenner snarled, seeing the police bike heading towards the Harley.

'Puma three, come in, over,' a voice on the radio said, barely audible through the hiss of static.

'Puma three, go ahead, over,' Garside answered.

'This is Lima one. We have you and the suspect in sight. Over.'

Neville saw the newest of the pursuers join the chase.

The more the merrier.

The police bike was level with him, riding on the pavement, the occupant glancing across at him periodically.

The street had become a blur of moving vehicles, the smell of exhaust fumes and rubber hanging thickly in the air, the roar of powerful motors drowning out every other sound.

Traffic moving in the other direction swerved to avoid the oncoming procession.

Pedestrians tried to find cover, realising they weren't safe on either the road or the pavement.

There was a junction ahead.

More traffic lights.

Neville saw the glow of the red light.

A lorry was moving ponderously across the junction.

Neville even had time to read what was written on its large blue container.

He saw the words river island as he sped across the front of the eighteen-wheeler, cutting yards ahead of the pursuing police bike.

As he cut across the path of the bike, Neville slid one hand inside his jacket and hauled out the. 357.

He fired three shots, the weapon bucking fiercely in his hand.

The first shot missed.

The second struck the windscreen of the bike, shattered it and hit the left hand of the rider, blasting off two fingers.

The third struck the top box and tore a portion of it away.

Blood streaming from what was left of his fingers, the rider struggled to keep control of the bike, finally losing the battle.

The police bike went over, throwing the rider clear, the machine spinning across the Tarmac, slamming into the huge wheel of the lorry, which barely shuddered from the impact.

The bike exploded.

There was a sudden eruption of yellow and orange flame as the bike disappeared beneath a shrieking orb of fire.

'Jesus,' hissed Garside as the Astra sped through the aftermath of the explosion.

He could feel the heat through his open window, smell the stink of petrol which was spilling out across the road like fiery tentacles.

The motorcycle officer was lying flat on the road, blood spurting from his hand.

Thick black smoke was billowing upwards in a miniature mushroom cloud, hovering over the burning bike like a man-made storm cloud.

The second police car swept past in the Astra's wake.

'Officer down,' shouted Garside into the radio. 'Suspect turning into Guildford Street. He's heading for Russell Square.'