Close behind, the Thundercat’s engine howled in pain and rage as that steel beast also ascended the slope. At least the F-Type was out of the race. Lucy glanced back and down, and saw its lights, marooned on the other side of the children’s playground, receding in her vision. In fact, the whole of the park was disappearing to their rear, which meant they were finally heading into central Crowley – though this in itself was problematic, because once they were past the park, they’d hit the viaduct over the Archways, and after that they’d be in canyons between industrial structures; there’d be no way to divert off the railway, and as this was a frequently used route, that could spell disaster.

Without warning, the open vista on the left gave way to darkened trees; they’d reached the end of the park already. Lucy’s last chance was here; she pulled a quick left-hand turn, which, with no headlamp to light the way, was the biggest leap of faith she’d ever taken in her police career.

Cora shrieked as they plummeted through masses of leafage, rhododendrons and thorns whipping their faces and bodies, the wheels locking as the tyres slid downhill through mulch and rot – too fast to attempt a controlled crash, but then hitting level ground again. To the left stood a railing, beyond which cars rumbled back and forth. Alexandra Way, Lucy realised. They were almost in the centre of town. But even if they reached Robber’s Row in the next few minutes, it would not necessarily provide refuge. They could alight in the police station’s rear yard, but by the crashing and tearing of fibrous undergrowth as her huge machine descended the slope behind them, the Thundercat rider was still very close. She could easily follow them into the yard, and while they leapt from the Ducati and fled to the personnel door, blast them both with her shotgun.

And then a new inspiration struck Lucy.

It was a shocking thought, in truth – but it was now plain that they were neither going to outfox nor outpace the maniac at their rear.

That left one course of action.

Just ahead, the railing ended where a pair of iron gates hung together on a corroded chain. Lucy ploughed forward through knee-deep layers of autumn leaves, only decelerating late, striking the gates with just enough force for the chain to shatter and the gates to swing outward, but not so that she’d shoot into the middle of Alexandra Way.