Reached out a hand to touch your face,
you're slowly disappearing from my view.
- I Ran (So Far Away) A Flock Of Seagulls

~x~

Red; the deep rust shade of Accrington brick spilling out over the pure white leather of her jacket and onto the cold stone slabs beneath her.

He stood motionless before her, stunned; the reverberations of the recoil still pulsing up his arm. He had pulled the trigger. The dead weight in his right hand that pinned his arm to his side had placed a bullet within her that was drawing the life from her as he watched on.

She was fading away from him. No sound escaped her lips, no yell of pain, no cry for help.

He felt the sensation of bodies pushing past him whilst he remained rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from the look of dumb confusion and fear upon her face.

He could hear the voices of his colleagues about him.

"Ma'am, are you okay, Ma'am Can you hear me?"

"Someone get an ambulance. Quick!"

"Don't just stand there, go. Now!"

Her eyelids fluttered and closed.

He stumbled backwards; the serrated scraping of leather sole against limestone a jarring echo in his head.

"Guv, GUV!"

The voice was behind him now, becoming fainter as the sound of his feet pounding on the ground and the heavy thud of his heart in his chest flooded his ears as he ran, ran harder than he had ever done before; the utilitarian telephone box on the street corner a bright flash in the corner of his eye as he sprinted by.

"Guv, wait up!"

The voice was closer, another set of footfalls joined his but he didn't look back.

Firecracker charges exploded in his legs with each impact of his boots upon the glistening tarmac. The lungs behind his ribcage flared like incendiaries but still he ran blindly on, acutely, perversely aware that he felt more alive than he had in months. Whilst the woman whose life he had surely stolen lay stricken on the frigid ground as it drained away from her.

He reached the Quattro, yanked open the driver's door and dived in, slamming it shut behind him and depressing the lock. His hands were shaking so much with the adrenaline and exertion from his flight that he fumbled the keys in the ignition. His pursuer was at the door, levering the handle and hammering hard on the window."

"Guv, GUV... GENE!"

The keys tumbled from his shaking hands into the footwell, he bent to retrieve them and when he raised his head again he found himself face to face with Ray, who was leaning over the bonnet of the Audi, banging on the windscreen.

He placed the key in the ignition and paused momentarily, fixing his DS with a steely eyed stare. Ray starred back, obstinate, unflinching.

He turned the key, the engine fired. He stamped on the accelerator sending the revs soaring above the red line; Ray's defiant look faltered.

He released the brake, the car shot forward and Ray leapt headlong into the gutter. The last he saw of Ray Carling was a despairing figure reflected in the rear view mirror as he took a right-hander at breakneck speed, racing away from the scene with no real thought as to where he might be headed.

As he careered towards the river an ambulance passed in the opposite direction, its sirens screeching. Seconds later the ambulance was followed by several marked squad cars and he turned his face away as they passed; the action of a guilty man.

Crossing to the South bank over Tower Bridge he sped on, thinking of nothing else but putting as much distance as possible between him and Metropolitan Polices' finest who would undoubtedly be looking for him by now.

Weaving his way through the early evening rush hour traffic he eventually found himself cruising the eerily deserted streets of a dilapidated area close to the docks. Turning a corner the road opened out onto an expanse of waste ground beyond which lay the silted depths of the river Thames.

The effects of the adrenaline rush he experienced were beginning to subside. His hands still shook as they gripped the steering wheel, and though his heart still thudded in his chest like the pedal hitting the skin of a bass drum its tempo had slowed. Outside, sleet began to fall from heavy black clouds that brought in the night.

He drew the Quattro to a halt close to the waters edge, and with his hands still gripping the steering wheel he starred out to the opposite bank, transfixed by the slow sweep of the wiper-blades.