In the back, Tim Garbutt nodded his head to the current beat and voiced his displeasure when the disc was changed.

“Aww, I was listening to that.”

“Stop bleating, Timmy,” Kyle said, switching the CD for something with a bit more drum and bass, “not even my Gran listens to that crap.”

Boyle laughed, but his eyes were on the black Skoda coming towards them.  The thick aerial first caught his attention, and as it neared he saw the white shirts and black epaulettes of the occupants that marked them as police in an unmarked car.  The Skoda passed them and in his rear view mirror he watched it continue for another hundred yards before the blue lights illuminated and it performed a u-turn.

Game on.

* * *

“That’s Stuart Boyle in the Scooby,” PC Trevor Haines told his partner.  That was enough for PC Glenn Barker and he hit the blues and twos before spinning the car around in pursuit.

“Hotel Oscar, this is Romeo Tango Two Five, can we have a PNC check on a blue Subaru Impreza, licence number Whiskey Victor Five Three Victor Kilo Mike.”

Although it was procedure, the call in was a formality because PC Haines knew for a fact that Stuart Boyle didn’t own a Subaru Impreza, nor could he have insurance to drive one because he didn’t have a driving licence.  In fact, Stuart Boyle had never had a valid driving licence: his driving ban had started before he was even old enough to apply for one and he had a string of motoring convictions, ranging from driving without a licence, driving whilst disqualified and driving without insurance, to theft of a motor vehicle and Taking Without the Owner’s Consent.  All this despite being just twenty years of age.

“Romeo Tango Two Five, this is Hotel Oscar.  The vehicle is registered to a Mr Simon Glover, Winslow Way, Meopham, Kent.  It was reported stolen at eight this morning.”

“Romeo Tango Two Five, roger that.  We believe the driver is a Stuart Boyle, currently disqualified from driving.  We are three hundred yards behind it, heading north on Hall Lane, over.”

“He’s seen us,” Haines told his colleague.

“Looks like it.  Fasten your seat belt, cos’ he ain’t one for pulling over,” Barker advised.  Sure enough, the Subaru was soon doing sixty miles per hour and their Skoda was keeping up but not gaining.

“Hotel Oscar, Romeo Tango Two Five, vehicle failing to stop, continuing west, speed six zero miles an hour.  Traffic is light, visibility is excellent, weather is clear, driver is pursuit trained, over”.

* * *

As soon as the blue lights illuminated, Stuart was plotting his course home.  Once in the network of streets on the Foxwell estate he was confident he could lose them.  It was just a case of getting there before they managed to stop him.  At this time of day the ring road was the quickest way back, especially in an Impreza.