He checked his mirrors again. The car behind flashed its headlights. The speedometer was indicating eighty miles an hour and rising. He was now twenty miles per hour above the speed limit. He was going to have to slow down. That is if the car behind would let him. If not, he would have to find some place to pull over and let him pass. His hands were trembling and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He wiped away a bead of sweat that was running down the side of his temple with the back of his hand. He glanced in the mirror again, this time the full beams were on, blinding him, so he tilted his head to avoid the glare and blinked rapidly, clearing his sight, and peered through the screen, trying to concentrate on the road.

As trees flashed past on either side, they appeared to hem in the road making it seem narrower than it actually was. All he could make out were the haunting shadows the branches made against the night sky, clouds obscuring the moon but it’s pale light shining through managing to cast an eerie light which seemed to lighten the sky. He caught his breadth as it appeared that the car would brush against the trees and send him to his death.

From what he could see through the trees there was nothing but fields beyond. No lights of houses twinkled welcoming in the dark and there wasn’t an opening he could pull in to so the maniac behind would pass. But some how Daniel Morris knew that he wasn’t going to pass him if he could. This had now become something more sinister. It was like that film with Dennis Somethingortheother who is pursued from one state to the other by a crazed trucker. This was his version of it on some god forsaken rural country road in the middle of no where.

God how did he manage to get himself in to this mess? After all it was a simple trip to Alex Seacroft’s house, a quick signature on the papers confirming the sale of his property in Spain, and half an hour later he was supposed to be at home sipping vodka while Miriam made a hash of dinner as usual. A couple of stiff Vodkas usually dulled the meal and made the company bearable. After twenty seven years of marriage they had got to the point where they were together out of habit. This deal was going to put his Estate agency back on the map. Probably his last big time deal.