The Rover then made a handbrake turn to the left, cutting into a narrow winding street called Esk Road that ran parallel with Barking Road.
“He obviously knows the area,” Kelly said, as she was flung around in the back.
Esk Road was littered with savage speed humps, each one sending the Rover airborne as it was lunched over it. The bouncy landings were so out of control that it was a miracle it didn’t wipe out any of the vehicles parked on either side of the road.
With the three Trojan vehicles still in pursuit, but proceeding more cautiously over the speed bumps, the bandit soon started to open up a gap on them. Turning left at the end of Esk Road, the Rover went straight through a pair of ‘NO ENTRY’ signs, and powered along Cumberland Road, going the wrong way along the one-way street.
Thankfully, nothing was coming the other way, because there wouldn’t have been enough room for it to squeeze past an oncoming vehicle. Moments later, the Rover reached Barking Road, where it turned right, getting back on its original route.
Jack glanced sideways at Dillon. Their old pool car didn’t have blue lights or an audible warning system, and it was as about as manoeuvrable as a mobility scooter. If Dillon crashed, a garage Sergeant would throw the book at him for his unauthorised participation in a high-speed pursuit. “This is getting a bit hairy. If you want to drop out, I’ll completely understand.”
“Be quiet and let me concentrate,” Dillon snapped. “There’s no way I’m pulling out now.”
“I bet that’s what you say to all the girls,” Jack said, treating his friend to a devilish grin.
Kelly leaned forward and slapped him.
They quickly built up speed again as the Rover raced along Barking Road, and before they knew it, they were bearing down on another major intersection, with Prince Regent Lane on the right and Greengate Street on the left.
Jack saw that the traffic lights were red against them yet again. Up ahead, a marked police van was sitting in the middle of the junction with its blue lights flashing. In addition, several RT cars could be seen waiting in the mouth of Greengate Street, roof bars strobing bright blue in the dark.
“Looks like there’s a reception committee waiting for young Rodent,” Dillon said, happily.
The police vehicles had been positioned in such a way as to discourage the Rover from turning off the main road. They obviously wanted it to continue straight ahead, which probably meant that a Traffic unit had deployed a Stinger further along Barking Road to burst its tyres.
Unfortunately, Rodent had other ideas.
Ignoring the ‘KEEP LEFT’ bollard in the middle of the road, he swerved onto the wrong side of the road, jerking up his handbrake and skidding the car into Prince Regent Lane.
“He likes his handbrake turns,” Jack observed.
“He certainly does,” Dillon said, drily. “That car’s gonna fall apart by the end of the chase.”
“Well, he won’t be needing it where he’s going,” Jack said. “So, I suppose he might as well have a bit of fun running it into the ground tonight.”
In addition to the three Trojan ARVs, there were now three marked RT cars, or pursuit cars as they were called these days, behind the fleeing Rover. Dillon hadn’t been impressed when they’d zoomed past him, forcing him down to seventh vehicle in the pursuit’s pecking order.
The chase hurtled along PR Lane, passing Newham Sixth Form College on the right, the entrance to Newham General Hospital on their left, and then Plaistow fire station on the right. “I think they’re heading for Newham Way,” Kelly shouted from the back seat.
Tyler didn’t like the sound of that. If the Rover got onto a dual carriageway, it would really be able to start motoring.
“If we start going much above seventy, I don’t think this heap will be able to keep up,” Dillon warned them.
As Kelly had predicted, the Rover turned left onto Newham Way and the driver immediately floored the gas pedal, taking the chase up to ninety miles per hour.
Kelly looked out of the window and tilted her head upwards. “I think we’ve got India 99 above us,” she told them.
Jack’s mobile started to ring. Without taking his eyes from the road, he pulled it from his jacket and answered.
“Boss, it’s Reggie, the TIU has just reported activity on two of the phones you asked them to monitor.”
Tyler pulled a pen from his pocket and opened his daybook to a blank page. It was all he could do to keep it steady on his lap. “Go ahead with the details,” he said.
“The 777 number has been onto the 989 mobile that’s registered to the bloke in Rye, East Sussex. It was a two minute call. I’ve got the cell site coordinates for both phones but it’ll take me a few minutes to work out where they are.”
“Let me hazard a guess and say that the 777 number is currently traveling along Newham Way at warp factor five,” Tyler said, closing his daybook. It was a good job he hadn’t actually needed to make any notes. With the way the car was flying into bends, he would have had trouble writing anything clearly.
Reggie paused. “What makes you think that?” he asked.
“Oh, just a hunch,” Tyler said. “Call me back when you’ve checked.”
Annoyingly, another couple of RT cars breezed past them and bolted themselves onto the ever-growing convoy. “There must be eight or nine cars behind that Rover now, not including us,” Dillon complained, gripping the steering wheel tightly to cope with the vibration.
Jack shrugged. It was always like this when a chase occurred during night duty. Even though the Met SOP stipulated that no more than two pursuit cars could participate in a chase unless specifically authorised by the Yard, it always ended up with many more units tagging on.
The Rover came off the A13 onto
