PURSUIT
Chapter 2 - Evening Drive
What I heard was a voice repeating the registration number of my car - the one I was now driving - followed by the ominous words "In pursuit, M1 northbound".
I froze at the wheel. I could see what was about to happen; could almost hear the sirens, see the blue flashing lights. I was about to be stopped by the police and breathalysed. Perhaps I would be alright but what if I were over the drink limit? What ignominy to be tested positively: the charge; the cells; the solicitor; the court; the expense; the ban. What about my job? I groaned.
It was the groan which brought me back to my senses. I found myself still driving along the motorway but clutching the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles stood out, white. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Which of those headlights behind me belonged to the police car? Why had it not yet closed in on me? I half began to think I had imagined that voice when the radio spoke again.
"Delta five this is Beta three. What is your location?".
The voice was a different one and sounded weak through the ether's hiss and crackle. I grabbed at the radio and wrenched up the volume control.
"Beta three, we have just passed Junction 9". I hadn't even noticed it!
"Still in pursuit" the answering voice continued. It was strong and authoritative.
"Thank you Delta five. We are making for the bridge above Junction 12. If you are still with him then, we'll carry on from there".
"Thank you Beta three. Will keep you informed".
It was all so damned calm and professional and polite, yet here was I beginning to break out into a cold sweat. What was going on? Why hadn't I been stopped? Why was I being followed from a distance like this? I didn't like it one bit.
As I sped on and my friends behind me reported in from time to time to the car up ahead, I noticed the acknowledgements became clearer and stronger. I was still being followed and the chase - even though they had found their prey and could pounce at any time - would be carried on soon with a different pursuer. I resolved to get out of this mad situation and tried to think. I didn't have long to try and do anything; Junction 11 was approaching and once past that I would not be able to get off the motorway before reaching the other car. Or would I?
Just before Junction 12, where this advance car was stationed, was a motorway service area. It was one of those I had earlier thought about stopping at for a cup of coffee. Now it held greater potential. I had lived in Bedfordshire at one time and knew that service area; Toddington it was called after the local village. I also knew that a road existed to it for deliveries and for workers to arrive there without having to enter it from the main motorway slip roads. If I could increase my distance a bit further from whomsoever had me in their sights, I might just be able to appear to be stopping at that service area but in fact make a break for it along the service road. This I knew led to a main road from where I could double back and head for quieter, country lanes.
"Past number 11, Beta". He's still coming your way".
I took a few deep breaths and wiped my sweating palms on the legs of my trousers. The minutes passed quickly. As I neared the exit road for the service area, I was fortunate in noticing a large lorry moving well in the inside lane. I timed myself to come alongside this vehicle, using the middle lane, just before the exit slip road and, at the last possible second, put my foot down, cut in front of the lorry and shot down the exit road. The last thing I heard on the radio was:
"He's suddenly changed his mind, Beta: gone into the service area. Standby in case I miss him".
After that I heard nothing for the next half minute or so as I was too preoccupied concentrating on my driving. I was now speeding round the service area's semi-circular perimeter road and very soon would once again be rejoining the motorway. Where was that service road? Suddenly I saw it; I turned sharply, flashed past the "Access Only" signs and was making my escape. Within a few hundred yards the road reached a cross-country route and I swung the car on to this - Southbound - and accelerated away.
As soon as I could, I turned off this road onto a minor lane to foil any possible pursuit and, as I did so, I heard my old friends Beta and Delta exchanging ideas as to where I might have gone.
"He must be somewhere in the car park, or buying petrol. Look again".
There's no sign of him, Beta three. He must have come back out again. Are you sure he didn't pass you?".
"He didn't pass us. Stay where you are; I'll come and join you via the service road".
My relief at having escaped had a brief relapse when I realised that one of my pursuers was about to come down the very service road I had myself gone up, illegally I might add, only a few moments earlier but the fact remained that they would look for me in vain. Before long, their signals began to fade as I journeyed fitfully along the rural Bedfordshire lanes and the hills closed in around me.
© Richard Farquharson, Maulden, Bedfordshire June 2017