‘Christ, that’s dangerous,’ Claire exclaimed.

Gillard’s police-tuned Vauxhall was fast, but could not match the Bentley. It was years since he had done the police pursuit driving course, but he now needed to rethink his assumption that Deepak was unlikely to be the boy racer type. The Bentley failed to complete the overtake, instead braking hard and with smoking tyres turning sharp right just in front of the tow truck into a B road leading north-east. It was a clever ploy, but Gillard knew the road. It was a dead straight cut-through which went past Old Burhill golf course, perfect for the Bentley to use its performance. He slowed and turned right after the tow truck had passed, then floored the accelerator to try to make up the half mile of lost ground. The Bentley was already a dot in the distance.

Deepak clearly knew the area, which was within a few miles of his home. He turned off right, onto Burwood Road and when, half a minute later Gillard did likewise, the Bentley had vanished. There were a number of residential streets he could have turned down, both left and right, with large – in some cases enormous – homes. Exploring these would take some time. He stopped, turned off the blues, and called in his position. He asked control to check in with Rob Townsend to see how recent a location check they could make on Deepak’s phone.

The two detectives looked at each other. This wasn’t what they had expected. They were both dressed in traditional white for the Hindu funeral. Gillard had complained to Claire that his cream trousers and beige jacket made him look like a minor league cricket substitute – not ideal attire for operational action.

While he was waiting for Townsend’s response, the Bentley re-emerged onto the street from the right a couple of hundred yards ahead and turned right, heading away from him towards Hersham.

‘Righto,’ Gillard said, accelerating hard, with siren and blues on again.

‘He’s certainly giving us the runaround,’ Claire said. The Bentley was speeding, but less than before, and ignored the pursuit. Gillard was right on his tail, unable to see inside because of the tinted rear window. For half a mile the traffic going in the other direction did not allow for an overtake, and the Bentley wouldn’t make room. They finally managed to get past on the outskirts of Hersham, and by pulling in gradually brought their quarry to a stop.

Finally, looking in the rear-view mirror Gillard was able to see the driver.

A woman. A young, very attractive sunglassed blonde with big hair.

Where the hell was Deepak?

Gillard emerged from the vehicle, while Claire called in their position and asked for backup. He made his way towards the Bentley, indicating to the woman that she should step out of the vehicle. She did so, slowly and quite elegantly. She was tall and slender, wearing designer jeans, white tennis shoes, but a rather moth-eaten looking pullover with bits of grass on it.