Free Arthur Quinn and Hell's Keeper by Alan Early Page B

of a passing blue Volkswagen Beetle.
    Garda Eddie McKean wasn’t a fan of litterers to begin with, but it wasn’t the sight of the broken phone a few yards from his car that got his blood up on this occasion. It was the sight of the Beetle itself.
    He looked down at the handful of faxes that had come through on the wire not an hour previously. Sure enough, right on top of the pile was the order to pursue a 1960s pastel-blue VW Beetle. The note read: ‘Pursue but do not detain until suspects have reached final location, at which point contact Detective P. Morrissey in Pearse Street Station.’
    Garda Eddie McKean smiled to himself – some action at last – dropped the speed gun on the pile of faxes, straightened his cap, revved the engine and shot off.

    â€˜Incoming!’ said Ex anxiously from the driver’s seat.
    â€˜Huh?’ asked Ellie.
    â€˜Incoming! Behind us!’
    All but Ex turned to look through the rear windscreen. The motorway consisted of three lanes on each side of the road, and most of the cars were doing the top speed limit of 120 kph. At this time of the evening – an hour or so before rush hour truly began – there were only a few vehicles on either side of the thoroughfare. They could see three cars coming up behind them, at various distances. But Ash knew that it was the one furthest away that Ex had spotted. The squad car was still about half a kilometre away.
    â€˜How long has it been following?’ asked Ellie.
    â€˜Not long,’ Ex told her. ‘Since Eirik dumped the phone.’
    The Viking grunted softly and shrugged apologetically.
    â€˜It’s not his fault,’ said Ash. ‘I bet it’s Detective Morrissey’s doing.’ The words spilled out before she could stop them.
    â€˜What?’ cried Arthur. ‘Why?’
    â€˜He’s been keeping a close eye on me over the past few weeks.’
    He turned on her, annoyed. ‘You didn’t tell me that!’
    â€˜We didn’t want to worry you and we thought we’d lost him.’
    â€˜Well, I’m worried now,’ he said, gazing back through the windscreen.
    â€˜OK, OK, I’m sorry. He must have had the cops watching out for us when he worked out we’d left school. The car isn’t very inconspicuous. But what do we do now?’
    â€˜If we get caught, the best-case scenario is that he brings us straight home,’ said Ellie.
    â€˜That can’t happen,’ said Arthur. ‘We don’t have the time.’
    â€˜So …?’ prompted Ex, waiting for orders.
    Arthur looked over his shoulder at the squad car one last time.
    â€˜We have to lose him,’ he said.
    â€˜Evasive measures, Ex,’ said Ellie.
    â€˜Evasive measures,’ said Ex, the ghost of a smile creeping across his lips.
    He pressed harder on the accelerator and wound from one lane to another and then back again, squeezed between two cars. As soon as he could, Ex pumped the speed even more and swerved in front of a huge articulated truck, giving them momentary cover from the pursuing Garda.

    Garda Eddie McKean had just confirmed that the licence plate on the Beetle matched the registration on the fax when the little blue car sped up. He growled to himself, realising they’d spotted him, and leaned over the steering wheel. Time to change tactics. In all his years in uniform no one had gotten away from him and he didn’t intend to break that record now.
    He hit a switch under the dash and stamped his foot on the accelerator.

    â€˜Oh great,’ Ellie said sarcastically as the squad car’s sirens started crying and the blue lights on top flashed brightly. ‘And there’s the cherry on top!’ She swivelled in her seat to look back at her brother. ‘Ex, be more evasive than that!’
    He stamped his foot further down on the accelerator. The Beetle revved, struggling to reach the speeds Ex was attempting to push it to.