Steve’s heart pounded as he sprinted breathlessly down a cobbled street, veering sharply down an alley to continue his attempt to evade his pursuers, strap of the heavy carry-all biting into his shoulder.
Dammit all, why the hell did Max have to forget to fill up the car last night? Talk about dumb.
Seeing crowds of people milling about ahead of him, he knew he was heading into the busiest square in town. He dived straight in, shouldering his way through the throngs of couples, children, pushchairs, pensioners and tourists. With luck, the police would lose sight of him and…
“Oi, you! Stop right there!” a voice bellowed from behind him “we can see you and we’ve got you completely surrounded. Give yourself up and come with us quietly.”
“Who is this amateur?” Steve wandered. “What policeman in their right mind shouts for somebody to stop? Talk about giving the game away!”
He glanced about him, glimpsed the bright yellow jackets through gaps between the bodies as they shuffled about their business, some of them stopping to see what the fuss was about and, of course, getting in the way of the police. Maybe he was surrounded, he thought. Nah, that’s defeatest talk, there must be a way out…
Suddenly, Steve had an idea.
Pushing his way through to the centre of the square, he marched up to where people were stood around a street performer – a magician getting ready to swallow a flaming torch – ideal for Steve’s purposes.
Without a pause, he strode over to the magician and opened his carry-all, thrust his hand inside – just as the magician looked down at the bag with eyes wide – and withdrew a fist-full of folding cash. There was a gasp from the audience.
Steve turned and threw three handfuls of notes into the air, letting it rain down upon people as they scrambled to take what they could.
Laughing, Steve ran away as the police cursed and radioed for backup.
Had three too many words (now removed), and used ‘rained’ instead of ‘rain’ (now corrected).