More Short Fuses (Four Free Short Stories)

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  Nick Wright exhaled through clenched teeth as he ran, his lungs burning with each breath. He swung around a corner just in time to see Motorcycle Jacket collide with a guitar-playing busker, scattering a tin can of coins across the tiled floor.

  “Stop him!” Wright shouted, but no one moved to help. His quarry sprinted to the escalators and ran up, pushing people out of the way.

  “Police!” yelled Wright. “Move, people, please!” Again his pleas were ignored and he had physically to force his way up the escalator after the teenager.

  Motorcycle Jacket was halfway up the escalator when a group of six uniformed officers appeared at the top and fanned out. The boy snarled at the waiting officers, then leaped off the escalator and on to the concrete stars. He sped down the steps, taking them five at a time, as the policemen rushed to the down escalator.

  Wright vaulted off the escalator and on to the stairs, twisting his leg as he landed. Passengers on both escalators watched in amazement as the teenager cannoned down the steps with Wright in pursuit.

  As they neared the bottom of the stairs, Reid appeared around the corner. His jaw dropped as he saw Motorcycle Jacket running towards him, and before he could react, Motorcycle Jacket ran into him, knocking him to the side.

  The teenager was a good fifteen years younger than Wright, and Wright cursed the age difference as he ran. He took a quick look over his shoulder, flashing Reid a sympathetic smile. In his earpiece, Wright could hear the inspector giving instructions to his men, but there was no sign of the uniformed officers. Motorcycle Jacket reached a crossroads and dashed off to the left, forcing his way between two students with rucksacks. The tunnel led to a platform which Motorcycle Jacket sprinted along. Closed-circuit television cameras stared down at them as they ran along the platform.

  Motorcycle Jacket slowed as he realised that there were no more exits off the platform, and all that lay ahead was the train tunnel.

  Wright slowed, too. In his earpiece, the inspector told his men which platform Wright was on. He heard footsteps behind him and he turned to see Tommy Reid jog on to the platform, some distance behind him.

  “I’ve got him, Tommy,” Wright shouted. Reid waved his bottle in acknowledgement.

  Motorcycle Jacket turned to face the two men, holding his stun gun in front of him, then jumped down on to the track and began to sprint towards the tunnel mouth.

  Wright took a quick look up at the digital display above the platform  the next train wouldn’t be along for six minutes. He ran after Motorcycle Jacket, into the blackness of the tunnel, then gradually slowed and stopped.

  The teenager was bent double, his hands on his knees, fighting for breath. “What are you waiting for?” shouted Motorcycle Jacket.

  Wright jumped as if he’d been pinched. He swallowed. His mouth was dry yet his whole body felt as if it was drenched in sweat. He tried to step forward, but his legs wouldn’t move. Reid had jumped down on to the track and was walking uncertainly towards him.

  Motorcycle Jacket grinned. “What, afraid of the dark, are we. Jesus, are you in the wrong fucking job or what?” Laughing, he turned his back on Wright and began to jog down the track, into the blackness.

  Wright closed his eyes, willing himself to follow the teenager, but he simply couldn’t move. His legs remained locked. A hand fell on his shoulder.

  “What’s up, Nick?” asked Reid, and he moved to stand in front of Wright. “You’re soaking wet,” he said.

  Wright opened his eyes. “He got away,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get the bastard.” Reid held up his bottle. “How about a drink?”

  Wright shook his head. He took one last look into the black depths of the tunnel, then turned and walked towards the platform. Back into the light.