Ben looked where she was pointing. Two of the fleeing druggies had turned back, having apparently realised that they weren’t about to get arrested after all, and that the unexpected visitors were in the act of stealing one of their vehicles. One was the shaven-headed skinny guy. The other was larger, and angrier-looking. As they ran back towards the yard they disappeared inside a lean-to toolshed and came back out a moment later brandishing a shovel and an iron bar.

‘They can’t do us any harm,’ Ben said.

‘Maybe not, but they can get in that crappy old VW and come after us.’

‘If it goes.’

‘We cops are drawn to a good car chase like midges to a lightbulb. You want to attract more unwanted attention?’

Ben sighed. ‘Christ. The things you have to do.’

‘Don’t pout. This was all your idea.’

The shaven-headed skinny guy and his angry pal were still about thirty yards away and closing fast when Ben stepped out of the Mazda with the sawn-off shotgun in one hand and two spare shells in the other. The two druggies skidded to a halt at the sight of the weapon. Ben kept his finger deliberately off the trigger as he pointed it their way, purely for effect. Then he swung it in a big dramatic arc to aim at the old Volkswagen. With a noise like a thunderclap that echoed around the farmyard he discharged one barrel into the old car’s bonnet lid. The heavy buckshot round perforated the rusty metal and turned it into a colander. Then he lowered his aim a few inches and squeezed off the other barrel.

BOOM. The car’s front grille dematerialised and bits of twisted plastic flew in all directions. Fluid gushed from a ragged hole in the radiator.

Ben broke open the shotgun and the smoking cartridges ejected. He loaded the two fresh rounds into the chambers and snapped the gun shut. By now, the two druggies had dropped their improvised weapons and were stumbling off as fast as they could in the opposite direction. Just to reinforce the point Ben blasted one front wheel of the VW, then the rear. The car sank lopsidedly down on its shredded tyres. A shattered wheel trim rolled away across the yard. The echo of the gunshots drifted away in the cold morning air, and would sound like crow bangers to a distant ear. Just another day in the countryside.

He got back in the car and stuck the gun under the driver’s seat. ‘Happy now?’

‘Whatever gets the job done,’ she said.

‘What kind of police officer are you, anyway?’

‘Hanging out with a guy like you changes a girl.’

Chapter 49