kept going, very steady, at about fifteen miles an hour.
‘Get into the car,’ Gently said. ‘There’s nothing we can do except follow him.’
Setters flung himself in, breathing heavily and saying nothing. In the back of the car Shepherd was dabbing Elton’s head with antiseptic. Elton had got his eyes closed. He was moaning and snivelling. He gave a wailing cry when the car started, made a fluttery, pushing motion with his hand. Gently pressed the R.T. switch.
‘X2 calling control,’ he said.
‘Control receiving X2,’ control said. ‘Your patrols are on their stations.’
‘We have Deeming under observation,’ Gently said. ‘He’s proceeding along the track to Five Mile Drove. I want the two cars in that area to form a roadblock where the track goes through the Chase. Tell them to pick their spot carefully and to make sure it’s completely blocked. Read it back. Over.’
Control read the message back.
‘Further instruction,’ Gently said. ‘Tell them not to sit in the cars.’
They followed Deeming. He increased his speed when he found he had them behind him, established a distance of a quarter of a mile, settled down in the fours. Brewer made unobtrusive attempts to cut down on the distance, but they failed. Deeming was watching them closely in his mirror.
‘What do we do when we come to the block, sir?’ Brewer asked Gently.
Gently grunted. ‘I’m wondering about that myself,’ he said.
‘We ram the louse,’ Setters growled. ‘Don’t dare to let him come past you. If you fix him that’s too bad. I’ll cry all the way to the inquest.’
‘Do you want him rammed, sir?’ Brewer asked Gently.
‘No,’ Gently said. ‘I want him in dock.’ Brewer frowned, held the speed steady, never let his eye stray from Deeming.
‘He was going to kill me,’ Elton moaned. ‘He came there to kill me.’
Shepherd was flaking a bandage on him over a pad of moistened lint.
‘They brought me food,’ Elton said. ‘I thought he’d come with my food. Then he hit my head. He was going to kill me.’
‘We’ll get him,’ Setters said. ‘Don’t you worry, Elton.’
‘I wouldn’t have said nothing,’ Elton said. ‘I wouldn’t never have said nothing. Then he hit my head. He pulled out a spanner and hit it. I fell down, he tripped over my feet. I got up the ladder and ran. I wouldn’t have said nothing at all. But he was going to kill me.’
‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘We know. Don’t you worry about it, Elton.’
‘He was nice to me,’ Elton snivelled. ‘Then he hit my head.’
Gently looked over his shoulder. ‘Is that where the sticks are kept?’ he asked.
‘Yuh,’ Elton blubbered. ‘I never knew. That’s where they kept them, down there.’
‘Whose idea was it for you to hide there?’
‘Sid Bixley’s,’ Elton said. ‘He told me I was going to be arrested, I’d have to stop there till they fixed it.’
‘Don’t you worry,’ Setters said. ‘You’re in the clear now, Elton.’
They began to see the Chase stretching sombrely across the skyline. Deeming hadn’t changed his pace, was riding easily, relaxedly. A couple of times he’d looked back, given a derisive wave of his hand, but most of the time he just rode as though he were out for his pleasure.
Control called them up.
‘Your block is in position, X2. About a mile from the main road, the track is closed off as instructed. Any further instructions?’
‘Give me a supporting patrol,’ Gently told them. ‘Put it in Five Mile Drove, stationed at the junction with the track.’
‘Willco,’ control said. ‘We’ll try to send you another patrol.’
They came to the nursery, the fire-signs. A forest-ranger watched them go by. In the trees they lost sight of Deeming and Brewer promptly lifted his speed. Deeming let them come up closer. He wasn’t trying to get away. He held them back at a hundred yards and Brewer settled down again. Setters was back holding the seat.
‘Remember what I said,’ he snapped at Brewer. ‘You’ll only be cheating the hangman, and we don’t all like hangmen.’
‘I’ll try to stop him,’ Brewer clipped.
‘Better than that,’ Setters said.
‘Just stop him,’ Gently said. ‘If you can,’ he added.
They cornered on a rise, went sweeping down a long straight. The block was just past the end of the straight. It was a very efficient block. The two cars were spread across the track, each bumper nested against a tree. The track was narrow and they more than filled it. Behind the cars stood their crews, watching.
Brewer stepped on the gas. They raced to close the gap on Deeming. He was trapped, he was slowing down. The men were running round to grab him. Brewer’s lips were bundled tight, he was set to ram if necessary. But Deeming kept riding straight, didn’t offer to break and double back.
Then his engine roared, he slanted right, dived headlong into the trees: slalomed crazily among the trunks of the tall, close-set pines. His rear wheel showered up dead pine needles, he was belting at full throttle. He jerked and twisted like a maddened animal, crashed through brushwood, reared back on the track. And then he was away, beyond the roadblock, shaking off a couple of pursuers. He cut his throttle, looked over his shoulder, made a mocking salute with five fingers.
The Wolseley skidded to a stop.
‘Get these cars out of the way!’ Gently shouted.
There was a rush for them and some awkward man?uvring before the block could be disentangled. There was no room to pass: Gently switched cars, taking Brewer and Setters with him. Up the track Deeming sat on his bike, lit a cigarette, and grinningly waited.
They got away. So did Deeming: he performed a little victory roll. Brewer was pale and chewed his lip, made a hash of coming up through his gears.
‘Oughtn’t I to go after him?’ he muttered to Gently.
Gently shook his head. ‘It’s a waste of time. Hold your speed in reserve. You’ll never catch him in a straight run.’
Now only the support patrol waited ahead to try its luck with Deeming. If that failed, and he gained the road, they’d have to start planning afresh. Which way would he point if he reached the road? Away from Latchford, almost certainly. He would need to make for a town like Castlebridge, where he could lose himself in a maze of streets. Gently called control again.
‘Deeming’s got through the block,’ he told them. ‘We’re observing him, but we can’t catch him. I think he’ll make towards Castlebridge.’
‘Any instructions?’ control came back.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘We’ll have to try another block. There’s a country house with park walls just this side of Oldmarket and I want the block at the Oldmarket end of the walls. From wall to wall, you understand? Don’t leave the ditches uncovered. We’ll have three or four cars behind him and should be able to stop him doubling.’
‘Willco,’ control said. ‘We’ll put Oldmarket on this one.’
From the back Setters rasped: ‘You think that’s going to get him?’
Gently grunted. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But you have to go through the motions.’
The junction showed ahead, and there a fresh comedy was played. The support patrol saw Deeming, took off, drove steadily towards him. Brewer dutifully launched the Wolseley and the two cars rapidly converged on Deeming. Deeming feinted, sent the support car left, slid through right without raising his speed. Once more the track was blocked. For everyone except Deeming.
‘All right!’ Gently bellowed. ‘Don’t talk, just back out.’
The flustered driver of the support car lost his head, stalled his engine. He had to back a hundred yards to unbottle the other cars. It was ludicrous. Deeming might have been several miles on his way. Instead he sat jauntily watching from a position across the main road. If it was any comfort, he was pointed to Castlebridge. It didn’t seem much comfort.
‘Like you’ve got a good driver?’ he shouted to Gently. ‘You reckon he’ll stay with me up here? You better climb on the pillion, screw, you better waltz with Matilda!’
