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the scene. Take up a checkpoint on Queens Square and await further instruction … The two other section mobiles continue to the scene … We are currently in telephone contact with the person reporting the incident …’
    Henry acknowledged this and put his mind to exactly how he was going to get off the dual carriageway as quickly as possible and get back to town. First he needed a blue light – which was sitting in the front passenger footwell. Winding down his window first, he then reached over for the light and plugged the cable from it into the cigarette lighter. He then clamped the magnetic light itself onto the roof of the car with a heavy clunk so the coiled lead stretched diagonally across in front of him. The light came on and started to revolve sluggishly. Then he wound the window back up to trap the lead and thought about a U-turn, keeping an eye out for a likely gap in the central reservation crash barrier through which he might attempt this dangerous manoeuvre.
    Amongst his other problems was the speed of traffic in both directions – particularly from Manchester – because as they passed over the boundary into Rossendale, the gradient of the road fell sharply and traffic built up speed very quickly, so if he attempted what he thought he was going to do, he would be putting himself and others in a lot of danger, flashing blue light notwithstanding.
    But the danger didn’t deter him in the slightest.
    Being the age he was, he believed he was doing right, believed he would never come to any harm, that he had an important job to do and that he was indestructible. So doing a scary U-turn on a fast, busy dual carriageway was just another of those things.
    He sped up the outside lane, coaxing seventy out of the reluctant Vauxhall, looking well ahead to see if there were any gaps in the barrier. He spotted one. He did a quick mirror check – no one too close behind – and slammed on, yanking the steering wheel down to the right, skidding the car through the gap and right across to the inner lane of the opposite carriageway and, more by sheer luck than judgement, slotted into a long gap in the oncoming traffic.
    The back end of the Cavalier slewed wildly across the surface. Henry struggled to control it, fighting the very skittery car which, even in normal circumstances, did not behave well on the road and resented being thrown unwillingly into a fast U-turn under harsh braking and then acceleration.
    He was thankful he made it without stalling, although he did hear a scraping noise across the car roof and realized as soon as he accelerated back towards town that the blue light, in spite of the magnet clamping it to the roof, clearly not powerful enough for purpose, had slid right off. It was now dangling by its lead from the driver’s door window next to his shoulder, banging on the glass.
    He cursed, wound the window down, hauled the useless light in and tossed it into the passenger footwell where it continued to rotate and flash until he yanked the plug out of the cigarette lighter and threw the lead down by the light. He wound the window back up.
    Within a minute he was back on Queens Square, wondering where best to park for a good view. He circled it and pulled into Queen Street, a minor side street, parking quite illegally right on the junction with the roundabout so that every vehicle coming from the direction of Crawshawbooth wanting to get onto the bypass would have to drive past within twenty feet of him. Even though it was a good position to be in, it was still always possible for someone with knowledge of the local back streets to sneak past without being spotted, but he knew he couldn’t be everywhere.
    He called in his position, sat back, watched, listened and waited.

FOUR
    P atrols had arrived at the scene of the robbery, confirming the offence had taken place, a firearm had been discharged, but no one had been hurt. A gang of four masked men had terrorized