her off and to the side. She leapt to her feet and started running back down the hill towards the pond. She barged the couple with their kids out of the way. As she ran she bent and took the second gun from its strapping against the bottom of her leg.

Tom felt the weight of the dead dog collapse on his body. Blood spluttered over him. He had rolled several yards from the killer and as he pushed the dog’s body away he continued to roll and roll away from the direction of the gun. He had expected to hear and feel the next bullet. Then he saw the jogger wrestling the assailant on the ground. It was a very brief image because then the killer was on her feet and running. He climbed unsteadily to his feet. He saw the weapon a few feet away.

As Taylor neared Simpson, lying prone on the ground, he saw Tom stoop to pick up the fallen gun and set off in pursuit of the attacker. The jogger had also regained her feet but was bent double, clutching her stomach and obviously winded. Taylor knelt over Simpson and was relieved to see his eyes flicker open.

"Help's on the way,” he said, then sprung up and began to chase after Tom.

Taylor could see that the attacker was about a hundred yards ahead of Tom who in turn was thirty yards in front of him. He'd not run far before he realised that both of them were rapidly drawing away and the attacker was steadily increasing the distance between herself and Tom. He was too old for this game and was starting to blow hard.

"She's getting away,” he shouted into his radio. "I think she's heading towards Kingston gate. Steve, she’s coming your way. Be careful though. She’s fucking dangerous!"

Tom had slowed his pace to a steady trot. He knew he was losing ground but he didn't have the stamina to keep up his initial sprint. He glanced behind and could see, a long way back, Taylor suffering even worse.

Ten years earlier he'd run around the park a hundred times in training for the London marathon. If you kept close to the wall the circumference was nine miles. The direction they were headed, it had to be at least another mile to the road and just beyond lay another car park and Kingston gate. He hoped Miller and his men were organising a reception committee at the road.

As he ran he had only one thought. Please by some miracle let the man who had saved my life be alive. The overweight so and so had barged him clear and taken a bullet in the process. Never judge a man by the outside.

Tom controlled his breathing, forcing himself to take in and expel oxygen in a steady rhythmical fashion. He could feel the muscles in his legs tightening. He was now two hundred yards behind and the woman in front was showing no signs of flagging.

The terrain was hilly and Tom lost sight of her as she disappeared over the brow of a hill that led down to the road. He pushed himself for a final effort and accelerated a little.

Miller arrived at the spot where Simpson was lying at the same time as Pete who had rushed from the car park. He heard Taylor announce the man was getting away and ask Steve to intercept. He could see Simpson was going to live and decided he was needed elsewhere.

"Where are the car keys?" he asked urgently of Pete.

"In the ignition."

"Stay here and help,” Miller commanded and then was off again, running towards the car park.

His personal backup car, of which Pete was one of two regular drivers, was a Volvo V70. Dave arrived seconds after Miller had already sat himself behind the wheel, pulled open the passenger door and flung himself into the seat.

"What kept you?" Miller asked as he accelerated away, the door not yet closed. He wasn't used to the Volvo and underestimated its power, accelerating too fast, and felt the wheels spin in the gravel. He eased his foot off the accelerator a little and then raced back down the unfinished road connecting the car park for the ponds with the main road, which ran on the inside and parallel to the outer wall of the park. He turned on his siren and lights and drove at a ridiculous speed towards the Kingston gate entrance.

Accelerating over the brow of a hill he noticed Dave give him a look that suggested less than total confidence in his driving. He prayed no deer would decide to take a leisurely stroll across the road. At the speed he was driving it would be like hitting a brick wall. As he finally came in sight of the park gates he could see his own car parked up ahead at the side of the road.

What the hell... The woman they were all chasing had run across the road immediately in front of the car he was driving. He slammed on the brakes and skidded violently onto the grass verge, throwing the rear of the car sideways. He was out and running in seconds, closely followed by Dave but the woman had a hell of a head start and was moving too bloody fast.

The area between the road and the wall, where the woman seemed to be heading, was wooded. Miller slowed slightly as he was unarmed and didn’t want to be retired sooner than planned. The woman was getting herself cornered. He motioned with his arm for Dave to spread out to the left. He had his gun in his hand.

"Steve,” he said into his radio.

"I see you, Boss. I'm coming,” came the instant response.

"What about the cavalry?"

"On their way.”

Miller had been following the woman as much by sound as sight. Suddenly it was quiet up ahead and he could see the wall. He stopped behind a solid oak tree listening for any sound of the woman.

Sam

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