‘Zido! We need to talk. Can you–’

Zidarov cut the link. Every second now was crucial – the intersection flew past, and their strike point beckoned.

Draj suddenly roared ahead, slewing heavily across the lanes, and smashed alongside the second target car. The two vehicles jostled against one another, sparks spitting, before the Bulwark’s greater mass and momentum carried them both sailing towards the nearside barrier.

Zidarov swung right to evade, then accelerated to get ahead. He had a vague impression of the Bulwark’s flanks racing alongside him before his eyes locked on the lead target car and he boosted clear.

With a huge crash, Draj’s Bulwark drove his quarry hard into the impact barrier. The groundcar bucked, bounced, then flipped over, cartwheeling down the slope beyond. Draj should have righted things then, but he’d overcommitted, and Zidarov could only watch in the rear viewer as the Bulwark smashed through the barrier right after the tumbling groundcar, teetering on two enormous wheels as gravity threatened to carry it down the slope entirely.

‘Shit!’ Zidarov swore. Udmil’s groundcar was within range now, and running hard. The next intersection was only six miles off, so Zidarov had a short time in which to haul it in.

He floored the accelerator, jerked across, and reeled up next to the racing groundcar. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he snapped his passenger-side viewerpane down, and rain howled into the cab. He picked up his Tzarina left-handed and fired at the groundcar’s wheels.

The impacts flashed harmlessly off the reinforced tyres. The shots seemed to annoy the occupants, though, as the driver promptly lurched his vehicle over at Zidarov’s. The two cars came together at speed, and Zidarov felt himself barged back across lanes and into the path of an oncoming mass-transit conveyer. He hauled the control column, fighting back, but his tyres screamed and failed to grip.

Powerless to pull out, fighting with the controls, locked together with the groundcar, he saw the target’s rear window slide down, then the muzzle of a shredder-gun protrude.

‘Shit!’ he grunted again, and prepared to hit the brakes.

He never got the chance. Emerging out of nowhere, Draj’s Bulwark crashed hard into the groundcar’s rear end, hurling it forward. Somehow, the sergeant must have gained control and powered back onto the asphalt. The impact almost sent Zidarov’s vehicle wheeling into the central reservation, so he swung round sharply, fighting hard to keep control. That lost him more ground, and by the time he was able to accelerate again he was fifty yards back.

Draj tried the same trick again, ramming up against the black groundcar, but the guards managed to loose a volley of projectiles, smacking along the riot-wagon’s outer armour in a burst of white flashes. The two of them jostled up-close as Zidarov swept in, sparring and jinking as the traffic around them scrambled to get out of the way.