Milton tried to engage first gear again, but the handle wouldn’t move. He saw a gleaming silver pedal on the floor of the vehicle.

“Clutch,” he muttered as he pulled back on the accelerator again and pushed his foot down on the pedal. He twisted the gear selector, and the engine clicked into first. “It’s got a bloody clutch.”

He eased up on the clutch and the Bajaj jerked forward. He twisted the handlebars to the right to avoid the SUV, but, even with a narrow turning circle, the Bajaj was not quite going to make it. They sideswiped the vehicle with a loud crunch that set off the car’s alarm. Milton opened up the accelerator to its stops and hammered the Bajaj toward the terminal compound exit, racing between the closing gates with just inches to spare.

16

Milton swung the Bajaj onto the main road outside the airport terminal. The two policemen who had been chasing on foot had given up, staring helplessly at them through the chain-link fence. The road headed back toward the terminal, and, although Milton wanted to go in the other direction, the central reservation was constructed of large cinder blocks that separated the carriageways. The blocks were painted black and white, and, as he pushed the Bajaj into its third and highest gear, they flashed by in a blur. There was no opening that would allow him to cross onto the lane that led away from the airport.

He looked over his shoulder at Sakura and saw, with relief, that she was still breathing, huddled on the seat where he’d put her. He could hear sirens behind them. Police. The officers had called for help. Milton needed to turn around, get them heading away from the airport and onto quieter streets where it would be easier to hide. Quite apart from what would happen to them in the event that they were caught, Sakura needed to see a doctor. Milton had a phone call to make to arrange that, and the sooner he made it, the better.

The terminal fence flashed by on the left. Milton was concentrating so hard on weaving in and out of the slow-moving traffic that he almost missed the break in the cinder blocks to his right. He saw his chance, angled the handlebars to the left, and gripped the brakes hard. The Bajaj slid into the turn, and Milton felt the high-sided vehicle begin to lean as one of the rear wheels lifted into the air. He compensated, leaning to his left so that he could shift weight across. He got the Bajaj back onto all three wheels just inches before striking a minibus taxi that had pulled up at the side of the road. He swept through the opening and rejoined the road, headed in the opposite direction. He opened up the accelerator, relieved that he could finally head away from the airport.