The Pure

language of the Office, this was a ‘no zero’ moment.
    He drove around for an hour, cursing under his breath, taunting the Office in his mind, daring them to break their cover. Where were they, damn it, where were they? They had to be out there. And then, as he turned on to the A41 at Paddington, he saw the blue Audi again. He was sure it was the same one; years of memorisation and observation training had made Uzi infallible. It was cruising seven cars behind, close enough to maintain a visual, far enough away not to cause him to panic. Then a black van overtook him and settled in five cars in front, and an old grey Mercedes took up a position in the lane to his left. Finally a Ford 4x4 – a white one – completed the diamond formation on the right. This was all classic Office strategy. The vehicles were all different but all the same, all clean but not too clean, all dirty but not too dirty, all being driven carefully, precisely, in a manner that would not attract attention. Uzi had been ‘boxed’. He knew the procedure, he had done it himself, many times. He was surprised the Office hadn’t come up with something less obvious. They stopped at one traffic light after another, picking up speed when they hit open road, slowing down when they encountered congestion. The Office vehicles didn’t make a move, and neither did Uzi. This wasn’t the time. Not on this single road with no exits, with congestion and traffic lights and speed cameras. Uzi knew it, and the Office knew it. But the stage was set. They would wait for him to make a mistake then tighten the box and force him to stop. If he tried to break the formation and race away, they would either speed after him or call in other operatives, depending on the assets they had in the field. Alternatively this could all just be a ploy. They knew that Uzi was familiar with their tactics. They could be planning something special.
    He did nothing for thirty minutes as he drove away from the city at a steady pace, trying to dull his pursuers’ concentration, perhaps frustrate them a little, cause them to lose their focus. His ear itched and the Kol – the older Kol this time – started speaking in its smooth tones, apologising for only being a voice, telling him there was nothing it could do to help. Telling him to be careful, to believe. Uzi ignored the voice as best he could. He considered calling Avner, but that would just make things more dangerous. This was something he had to deal with alone. And then he knew it was time. He floored the accelerator, chinked past the white Ford and slipped into the fast lane, allowing his speedometer to tip 100mph. The Ford was forced to join the grey Mercedes to his left. Uzi’s Porsche hit its stride, and in a matter of seconds he had overtaken the black van. Now he had them all behind him. He accelerated again, pressing towards 120mph, trying to string them out. The Porsche was singing with happiness. His pursuers lagged behind but kept him in sight and waited to see what he would do. Perhaps they were calling in reinforcements. They wouldn’t shoot, he knew that. The risk to civilian drivers was too great, and the Office was too clever; these things always got messy if the police got involved. He edged towards 130mph.
    Then, suddenly, Uzi pulled the wheel to the left, cut across three lanes and veered on to an exit. The black van and Ford 4×4 were slow to react and disappeared off along the motorway, but the Audi and Mercedes managed to swerve off after him. He circled the roundabout, tyres smoking, without turning off; his pursuers followed him and for a moment it was unclear whether they were chasing him or the other way round. He saw his opportunity, drew his R9, leaned out the window and fired; the front tyre of the Mercedes exploded. The car rotated a quarter-turn and skidded to a halt on the grassy bank beside the roundabout. Then he wrenched the steering wheel to the right and, with a whine of tyres, the Porsche howled across the roundabout and down a two-lane side-road. The blue Audi appeared in his rear-view mirror, but not too close. To his surprise, no shots were fired in return; they were playing it cool. This was more worrying than comforting. Perhaps they were under orders to bring him in alive. He couldn’t get a clear shot at the Audi behind him, and the drivers knew it. They sat on his tail. In the distance, police sirens could be heard. Making a decision, Uzi swung the car across the hard