Judgement Call by Nick Oldham

familiar, and on this stretch of road he gained on the Rover, which appeared to have lost some power, or maybe the driver had missed a gear or two. At the next junction, Henry expected the car to go right, but to his surprise it skidded sharp left, towards Edenfield. As the car screeched around this corner, the rear nearside passenger hung out of the window and blasted both barrels of his shotgun at Henry.
    Instinctively, Henry ducked and once again felt the splatter of lead shot against the front of his car. He pulled his foot off the accelerator, relaying his position to comms again – still trying to keep the fear and excitement out of his voice. He was told that a section patrol and a traffic car were en route, as was DI Fanshaw-Bayley from the scene of the robbery, and to keep the car in sight if possible, but not to engage the occupants in any way. Bit too late for that, Henry thought wryly.
    The two-car chase shot back through Edenfield village, traffic coming towards them along the narrow road, being forced to swerve out of the way and slam on.
    Henry clung on and, as the adrenaline flooded into his system, he did not once have the thought that he might be being foolhardy. Even though he had now been shot at twice, it never occurred to him to abandon the pursuit or that he might lose his life. All he wanted to do was catch criminals and this was one hell of a way to do it. Combining danger, adrenaline, excitement and screeching tyres. Things couldn’t get much better and this was the beauty of a cop’s life: the humdrum followed by the intense rush. If he could have thrown sex into the blend, it would have been perfect for him … though perhaps that could come later.
    They cleared the built-up area in a haze of speed and at the traffic lights where Henry had been first shot at, the Rover bore left, forking towards Haslingden and dropping underneath the bypass towards a tiny settlement called Ewood Bridge.
    Henry relayed the change of direction to comms, just as the Rover braked sharply almost at the bottom of the hill and came to a slithering stop.
    Henry slammed on. He later reflected that he could have taken the opportunity to smash his car into the back of the Rover, but he didn’t, and what happened, happened.
    Once again the rear doors of the stolen car opened and the two still-masked men jumped out, wielding their shotguns.
    Henry crunched his car into reverse, but the robbers sprinted up to him, one either side of the police car before he could put any distance between him and them. One blasted Henry’s front nearside tyre which immediately deflated with a sickening lurch.
    The man on Henry’s side then took a further two steps up to the driver’s door window and placed the muzzles of both barrels up against the glass at the level of Henry’s head.
    Then, Henry felt real terror for the first time.
    He looked at those black side-by-side holes, like the eyes of death staring at him. Something inside him churned all his organs into a quivering mush, his heart, lungs, kidneys, the whole of the inside of his chest seemed to drain away.
    Then the man swung the weapon like a pendulum and drove the barrels through the window, smashing crumbled glass all over Henry. He leaned in and forced the weapon into Henry’s face.
    â€˜Your lucky day,’ the man growled, his eyes burning behind the two holes in the balaclava. He reared away from Henry and ran back to the Rover with his accomplice. They bundled themselves back in and the car sped away down the hill.
    Henry watched it, almost catatonic in fear.
    Then his vital signs clicked back in. He breathed in and shook himself out of his trance, then exhaled very slowly and unsteadily, both hands gripping the steering wheel, pulling himself together. He answered his radio to a desperate-sounding comms, demanding his current position and situation report, which he relayed with a distinct tremor in his voice.
    The two-tone brown Rover