‘What on earth’s he…?’ Janet said.
Kasim reversed at speed up the narrow street, the beams of his lights jouncing over the wet stones and brick walls.
Rachel stamped on the accelerator and swept up the road after him. At the junction, Kasim backed out into the main road and sped off, his engine screeching.
Rachel’s heart was thumping. Janet ferreted in her bag for the radio and began calling for backup, asking uniformed patrols and Traffic to stop the taxi.
Kasim raced along Hyde Road and Rachel kept pace, eyes alert to any hazards ahead. She had done the advanced driving course and was confident she could handle the vehicle. But the rain didn’t help, a slew of water across the windscreen, wipers going full speed, moments of road blindness before the next sweep of the blades.
‘He’s taking a left,’ Janet said, ‘April Place,’ having to raise her voice over the noise of the car.
Rachel swerved on the turn, felt the back wheels spin, the sideways slide. Corrected well. Pressed the accelerator to the floor.
‘And right, into Moby Street,’ Janet said over the airwaves. Then, staring at Rachel: ‘You’re enjoying this.’
‘Beats Alton Towers, any day,’ Rachel said. Eyes locked on the rear lights of the taxi, red coals in the dark.
The car jolted over a manhole cover and they both jumped in their seats.
‘Christ! Slow down!’ Janet yelled. ‘Another right, Logan Street,’ she read the road name. ‘Where the hell’s he taking us?’
Rachel kept her foot down, thanking God it was night-time and there were few pedestrians about. They were approaching a small industrial estate. Half a dozen or so units, roller-shutter doors and corrugated roofs. And beyond them Rachel knew was a road that led to the motorway.
‘Slow down,’ Janet screamed. ‘Rachel, stop – let patrol take it.’
‘We can’t let him get to the slip road,’ she shouted above the howl of the engine. ‘Hold tight.’
‘You’ll fucking kill us!’
Rachel knew she could wring a bit more speed from the car and she was practically on his bumper. She kept the accelerator on the floor and roared closer. Gripping the wheel, she slung the car out and to the right to overtake, then nosed back in towards the cab. Almost level, she was dimly aware of Janet shouting next to her, ‘You’re too close, too close, stop!’ and voices coming over the radio. A final spurt, but then he slammed on his brakes and there was no chance to avoid him. A scream of metal and the impact shunting them back in their seats, activating the airbags and forcing the cab into the wall of one of the units. The cars travelled together for several metres. Rachel saw sparks flying as the metal of the taxi’s nearside scraped along the breeze blocks, then both cars ground to a halt. The cab parallel to the building, their car at an angle, its front end pressed against the offside rear door.
