Hampered by whatever damage he’d done to his right leg, Priest resumed pursuit, shouting the sincerest apology he could muster to the Spanish bike owner on the side of the pavement.

The thief turned right where the road ended. Priest could feel his chances of catching him increase with every step. They were running along a thin strip of grass with the backs of terrace housing filing sideways to the right. To the left, at the foot of the embankment, ran a dual carriageway; three lines of fast-moving traffic on either side of the island. It was the start of rush hour and a horde of commuters were looking to get out of the city, oblivious to the chase taking place just a few yards away. Only a low, metal barrier separated Priest and the thief from the thunderous interchange.

‘Hey!’ Priest shouted. He doubted he could be heard above the sound of the traffic but releasing his anger this way felt good. ‘Hey! Stop!’

The thief checked over his shoulder, the first time he seemed to sense that he was losing the race. Priest didn’t catch a look at his face. He guessed he was about five and half seconds behind, maybe less, using the street lights as a guide.

The next pass and he was four seconds behind.

‘You’re too slow, my friend!’ Priest taunted, drawing another nervous check over his shoulder from the thief. ‘Give it up!’

The top of Priest’s legs burnt, his right shin felt like it was twice its normal size but it was just white noise, sensations he was vaguely aware of happening but too distant to be concerned about. Nothing mattered, except getting that phone back.

You’re not stopping me from finding Simeon’s killer!

Priest passed another lamp post. Three seconds behind now.

Without checking over his shoulder again, the thief suddenly veered off course, half falling and half running down the embankment towards the dual carriageway. There was no hard shoulder and his descent was met with a flurry of alarmed car horns, but he managed to keep his footing and was now running on the tarmac just outside the lane marking towards the on-coming traffic.

Ah, shit!

Priest followed roughly the same path, taking the embankment at an angle but the grass was wet and he had to slow his pace to avoid tumbling over. If he lost control now, he’d be sent sprawling into the carriageway. Some cars had seen what was going on and pulled over to avoid the thief but the density of traffic meant that most cars stayed in the inside lane, only giving the runners a couple of feet of room.