The Metropolitan Police uses an X26 model taser manufactured by the imaginatively titled Taser International Company. It uses a compressed nitrogen charge to fire two metal prongs into suspects and then zap them with fifty thousand volts. Which causes neuromuscular incapacitation, which causes them to fall over. Which was why I was a tad disappointed when the Pale Lady just grunted, blinked, and then tore the prongs out of her chest. She glared at me, I took an involuntary step backward, and she spun on her heel and shot off down Glasshouse Street, bowling over the smokers as she went.

I dropped the taser and rocked forward for a good start. Even though my shoes slipped on the wet road I like to think I trimmed a bit of time off my start. If I could get close enough to give her a heel tap I could bring her down long enough for me and half a van of TSG to land on top of her.

She tore down Glasshouse Street with what I realized were bare feet slapping on the road surface. I came after her sweating and blowing. But, weirdly, either she was slowing down or I was warming up, because I was gaining. But where was she going? At the far end of Glasshouse Street was Piccadilly Circus, lots of traffic, lots of tourists to get lost in, and a tube station. The tube. There were steps down to Piccadilly Circus station right where Glasshouse met the circus.

I was right. As she reached the ugly pink façade of the doughnut shop she started angling right for the station entrance. I dug for it, but I didn’t have enough left to get me closer than two yards. Then she suddenly veered left again and started curving around past the big Boots and heading for Shaftesbury Avenue. I couldn’t figure it out until I saw a pair of PCSOs idling in front of the steps down to the station—the Pale Lady must have thought they were after her.