He vaulted onto the back of the motorbike quickly kicking it into gear and tearing off. Behind him echoed the angry shouts of the security guard and he watched his quarry escape. Suddenly he swerved only just avoiding the police car that had pulled out in front of him. His grin of triumph faded and he focused on the road ahead turning down an alley to emerge onto another road.
There was a police car here as well and he took the first turn he found. Then he was twisting and turning through the streets trying to shake the two cars which stubbornly stuck to his trail. The longer it took the more chance there was that they’d cut him off. With that in mind he slammed on the brakes and threw a foot out to scrape along the ground. The bike spun and he was going back the way he came passing the car on his tail before it realised who he was. By the time the car had managed to turn he’d opened up a good lead but it wouldn’t be enough.
Sure enough the car quickly caught up again and it was back to a mad dash through the streets. Then he saw a turning and took it without hesitation just managing to miss the bollard that stops cars entering. He tore down the pedestrian street only to stop outside a coffee shop. A man at a table looked up as the motorcyclist slung his backpack off. He tossed it to the waiting man and then was off again.
Without a second thought he pulled into a car park and came to a stop next to a row of other bikes. With a grin he jumped off and walked away, pulling the helmet off his head and opening his jacket. After a while he saw policemen running around trying to find him and questioning pedestrians. To his amusement one of them stopped him, “have you seen a motorcyclist?”
“Can’t say I have officer,” he replied only just keeping his grin hidden until the policeman had walked away. It wasn’t everyday after all that one was asked to help in his own arrest.