I stood outside the clothes shop. The security guard was new, so he didn"t recognise us as we came in. I had to make sure there were no police patrolling Argyle Street. I scanned the crowd slowly and surreptitiously. A flash of fluorescent yellow brought a flash of fear, until the crowd shifted and it turned out to be a cyclist.
Inside, May and Ikud would be working their way through the racks, slipping shirts and skirts under their jackets. Due to our regular enterprise we looked smart, if a little dirty from the grease and grime accumulated on Alston Street – not the ragged street urchins from some Dickens novel. It was rare we aroused suspicion. We did have to be careful in choosing our targets. If our faces were seen too often we could be followed or flung out. The high turnover in ca
