A stubby Renault truck emerged from the inferno of the shed like a horse out of a starting gate. But this horse was hell-bent on death and left destruction in its wake. Without bothering to open the doors, the driver had simply burst through the rotten wood as if they didn’t exist. The impact against the padlocked hasp had been enough to send a shock wave rippling throughout the flimsy structure, tearing away the walls and supports and lifting the corrugated roof. Then everything had crashed downwards. But not before the truck was tearing itself clear of the debris and accelerating along the track, its engine screaming in protest and the rear end trailing a gushing swirl of smoke and flames. ‘It’s the same as before,’ said Rocco. The same model truck, the same railway sleeper strapped across the front, the same target. Only this time the target was real. They jumped in the car and took off, accelerating hard.
