BLIPP. The Capri fishtails as Bodie floors it.HORN. Missed the Allegro

TWO TONE horn behind Bodie. A plod Rover 2500, Don't get in my way. Bodie grits his teeth. CLUTCH. Change down, pull the handbrake and SLIIIDE the back end.

FASTER NOW. The Jag has a lead. Maybe thirty seconds. Roads are narrow. Traffic thins. Docklands.

Time to take them.

ONE DOWN. The plod 2500 fails to miss a Post Box. Leave it to me.

TAKE THEM!!. The Jags in sight. Ram him. Bit of luck they won't have time to…

CRACK! The slags have got shooters. Nothing auto. Bodie looks at the empty seat. Nice day off sick, Doyle!

SHATTER! The windscreens gone. Punch it out.

END IT! The Jags blown the engine. Out they come.

STOP.Spin. 90 Degrees side on. Cover. Out the drivers door and onto the cobbles. Look under. Ankles. Three shots. One down.

EYES OPEN. Watch for flanking. Get to the boot. THAT WAS CLOSE. Wheres the backup?

BOOT CATCH. Get the G3, clip in. Wait for it. FULL AUTO. The Jag is swiss-cheesed . Two down. Maybe. Lots of shouting.

FLANK MOVE. Time for a SPRAYYY and crouch-run to a doorway. Import-Export, long ago. A chip of concrete. Hit somewhere. Nothing vital. Get Enfilade.

GOT HIM. A three burst puts the third one down. WAIT. Seen too many fall for it. In the Desert he would use a frag. This is London.

Keep the G3 on them. They aren't moving much. Three for the old man to get his teeth into. He kicks the guns away. Two Tokarevs – amateur hour. The third one has a Beretta, backup 22 and an extendable cosh. The one in charge,

Seven eight takes over when the plod arrive. Bodie heads back to get his ear seen to . Bit of claret to jolly up the nurse. The tension eases. He gets his ducks in line for the old man. Doyle will be jealous. Tough luck.