* * *
The uniformed inspector shook his head in frustration as he stared at the closed-circuit television monitor. The teenager in the motorcycle jacket was cannoning down the platform, pushing people out of his way and waving his stun gun in the air. Nick Wright was in pursuit, his arms pumping furiously as he ran. On another monitor Tommy Reid stumbled out on to the platform, still holding his bottle, and was almost bowled over by the fleeing mugger.
“Keystone bloody Cops,” muttered the inspector.
“Sorry, sir?” said the shirtsleeved officer sitting in front of him.
“Where are the reinforcements?” said the inspector, putting his hands on the back of the officer’s chair and leaning closer to the rank of monitors.
“Main ticketing area, sir,” said the officer. He pressed a button on the panel in front of him and the image on the central monitor changed to show half a dozen uniformed British Transport Police officers sprinting towards the top of the escalators.
The inspector straightened up and ran a hand through his thinning hair. He watched the mugger run into one of the exits, closely followed by Wright. At least Wright appeared to be gaining on him.