‘Right, we’ll get after it,’ Craven said from the driver seat. He managed a rapid three-point turn, then set off to follow the Audi RS Q8. Tickett was going at a hell of a pace for a country lane. High hedges obscured visibility, so it was good fortune that there was no other traffic. Dearing called in the details of the escaping vehicle, and asked for assistance. Gillard, trying to keep tabs on the rest of the raid, was forced to look up from his iPad because the movement of the car was making him bilious.

Tickett led them to a T-junction on a major road, and went left. The patrol car followed but was clearly no match for the acceleration of the Audi, which pulled away even as Craven reached 90 mph. Dearing was told by the control room that another patrol car was heading towards them on the same road, and was one minute away. They could see its headlamps and flashing blues in the distance.

‘Tickett might well try to surprise us here, there are a few small lanes on either—’ Gillard began. Before he’d finished, the Audi had indeed made a screeching right-hand turn, and headed off down a narrow hedge-lined lane. The Ford followed, just in time to see the Audi’s headlamps swing left into an ungated field parallel to the main road. Craven followed, and watched the car ahead squeeze down a narrow headland between a high hedge on the left and a crop of rape on the right. The rough and bumpy ground slowed their speed to less than twenty, and the Audi with its four-wheel-drive had a definite advantage. Dearing used his radio to try to contact the following patrol car directly to get it to go back and close off the far end of the field. The land descended gradually and became rougher.

Gillard, his teeth rattled by the bouncing of the suspension, felt that Tickett was drawing them into a trap, away from help. At a culvert, the lowest point of the field, the Audi crossed a muddy ditch and accelerated hard up the rising slope beyond. The Ford slewed right, then left, crashing through the crop, but finding some traction in a shallow part of the ditch. Craven’s driving was impressive, but they had lost ground behind the SUV, which was a good hundred yards ahead.

The big car pulled a U-turn and stopped, its lights on full beam now facing them.

Craven accelerated up the slope and stopped five yards short of the Audi. Tickett himself was standing silhouetted in front of his own vehicle, hands on hips. He looked enormous, and totally confident. This was after all a man who had gone twelve rounds with some of the world’s top middleweights.