‘Looks like we don’t have much of a choice,’ groaned Jake resignedly. ‘They’ll be well clear by now.’
‘Hopefully the police will have more luck spotting two cars travelling in convoy,’ she said. ‘Especially with both of them having hidden number plates.’
‘That won’t be the case for long,’ said Jake gloomily. ‘Pierce Randall aren’t stupid. Now they’ve lost us, they’ll separate. I bet they even knock the mud off the plates.’
The police patrol car arrived fifteen minutes later, by which time Jake had managed to get their car back on to the verge. It was badly dented, and the front offside headlamp was broken, but it was driveable.
While one of the police officers talked to Jake and Lauren, the other walked around their car, making a note of the damage. Then, when she’d done that, she produced a breathalyser kit and asked Jake to blow into it.
‘I’m not drunk!’ protested Jake. ‘Someone forced us off the road!’
‘Then you won’t mind breathing into the tube, will you, sir,’ said the policewomen, her tone flat and bland.
Jake sighed in frustration, but breathed into the tube. The police officer took it and examined the digital display, made a note in her notebook, then returned the breathalyser to the patrol car. Her colleague checked his own notebook and the statement he’d just taken.
‘Let’s make sure I’ve got this right,’ he said. ‘You say you were following this car because a teenage boy with a gun had forced another man into it . . .’
‘And they’re getting away!’ snapped Jake. ‘Didn’t you set up road blocks, or anything?’
‘And you were following this car, and then a second car came up behind you and forced you off the road.’
‘Yes!’ said Jake impatiently. ‘That’s exactly what happened!’
‘But you can’t give us a description of either of the cars . . .’
‘We’ve given you a description!’ said Lauren. ‘The first one was a black Ford SUV, and the second one was also black, but everything happened too fast for me to see what make of car it was.’
‘But you didn’t get the registration numbers of either vehicle.’
‘Because the number plates had been smeared with mud, so they couldn’t be seen!’ retorted Jake in frustration. ‘We’ve told you that already!’
The two police officers exchanged looks.
They don’t believe us, realised Jake.
‘Why would we be making this up!’ he demanded angrily.
‘Possibly to try and explain the accident to your car,’ said the policewoman.
‘It wasn’t my fault, if that’s what you’re suggesting!’ burst out Jake angrily.
Just then, the policewoman’s radio crackled, and she moved away to listen to a message that was coming in. Her colleague carried on looking at Jake and Lauren, and although the policeman’s face remained expressionless, Jake’s heart sank as he realised that this was going nowhere.
The policewoman rejoined them.
‘Can I just confirm that you are Mr Jacob Wells?’ she said to Jake.
‘You know I am,’ said Jake. ‘I showed you my driving licence when you asked me, right at the start when you got here.’
‘I’ve been told to advise you to report to Holloway Road police station immediately,’ she said. ‘I must advise you that failure to do so could result in a warrant being issued for your arrest.’
‘But what about the man in the car? Guy de Courcey! He was being abducted at gunpoint! What about us being run off the road!’
‘Our colleagues at Holloway Road will be dealing with those issues,’ said the policewoman.
‘This is crazy!’ said Lauren. ‘A man’s life is in danger . . .’
‘As I said, our colleagues at Holloway Road will be dealing with those issues once you report there,’ repeated the policewoman. ‘And I would advise you to get there as soon as you can.’
The male police officer gestured to the broken headlamp on Jake and Lauren’s car.
‘I would also advise you to get that fixed as soon as possible,’ he said. ‘Driving a car in that condition is an offence.’ He pulled out a small notepad, and filled in a form, which he tore off from the pad and handed to Jake. ‘This is an official notice under the Traffic Act ordering you to have that fixed within forty-eight hours.’
Jake looked at the form. On it he’d written their car registration number, the date, and details about the broken headlight.
‘I don’t believe this!’ Jake burst out angrily. ‘A man has been kidnapped at gunpoint, and you’re giving me a traffic ticket!’