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Ryan’s flight ended with shocking suddenness. For a little more than three quarters of an hour, following the appearance of the first patrol car in his rear-view mirror, he had sought to evade the pursuing police - that was over now.
As he struggled against the airbag – this time it had deployed – which threatened to smother him, he couldn’t help thinking that life wasn’t fair; he had kept ahead of the police, and countered every attempt by them to force him to stop, for forty-five minutes, only to be stopped by a fox, a stupid, verminous, scavenging fox!
What made it worse was the knowledge that it had been instinct, nothing more than that, that had made him crash. Seeing something dart across the road in front of the car, his hands had twitched on the wheel, the result of which was
