shop behind the man, casual but quiet, and Jazz
followed him in a few seconds later. The man's attention was focused wholly on the fleeing girl and the boy
who had given chase, and he was thumbing a number into his mobile phone as he watched.
The law, Jazz thought. And they'll not take long to get here.
Cadge was moving smoothly and confidently, and Jazz took a second to scope out the shop. Gob had
already been here three days before and so they knew the layout: two is-land units, three aisles, one main
counter. Jazz was pleased to see just one woman behind the counter and no other cus-tomers. The man
remained outside.
Cadge walked right up to the counter and looked the flustered woman in the eye. "I'd like some
condoms, please," he said. "Ribbed."
"Oh, well... er..." The woman lowered her eyes and moved along to the other end of the counter,
pointing along the side aisle to Jazz's right.
Jazz grabbed a handful of small boxes containing pain-killers, two boxes of plasters, and some cough
medicine, slip-ping them into her pockets as she browsed slowly along the shelves.
"Where?" Cadge asked from out of sight.
"Just there... er... past the aftershave."
"Can't see 'em."
Jazz rounded the island unit, smiling in mock sympathy at the obviously embarrassed woman, and
entered the cen-tral aisle. Cadge was beyond the second island unit, rustling boxes and dropping several of
them to the floor.
"Hold on," the woman said, and Jazz heard the sound she had been waiting for: the creak and bump
of the counter hatch being opened and the woman coming to help. She heard her footsteps and Cadge
mumbling something. The woman sighed.
Jazz took three paces to the counter, sat on it and rolled over, falling behind and remaining on the
floor for a couple of terrifying seconds.
"Nah, I don't like that make," Cadge said, and Jazz grinned at the cheek in his voice. "Itchy."
"Well, please make up your... we've just had a girl take some... Oh dear."
Jazz crouched down and ducked behind the obscured glass screen that separated the pharmacy
storage area from the rest of the shop. Harry had told her what to look for: amoxicillin. She scanned the
drawer tags, looked at the bot-tles already full and half full on the stainless-steel counter, then saw the
name just as she heard the man's voice again.
"Little bitch took off like a bat out of hell," he said. "Boy went after her; wouldn't be surprised if he
was part of it. Law are on their way. Jean?"
"Over here, Terry, just trying to help this young man."
He's back inside! Jazz had hoped for at least another thirty seconds before the owner came back in.
Maybe they were used to thefts. Just another part of life as a pharmacist.
She was suddenly terrified. If I get caught and the police get me...
They're all in it together, her mother had said. All tied up, dropping money in one another's
pockets, and information, and... other stuff. Promises. So promise me, Jazz, that you'll never trust
anyone.
If the police got her, the Uncles wouldn't be too far behind.
"Johnnies!" Cadge suddenly shouted, wielding a packet of condoms, and Jazz heard rapid footsteps as
he, too, ran from the shop.
"Wait!" the woman, Jean, shouted.
"Little bastard!" The man's voice faded again as he went back outside, obviously chasing after
Cadge.
Jazz snatched up the bottle marked amoxicillin and walked to the counter again, sliding across and
heading straight down the central aisle. She pocketed the bottle just as she bumped into Jean emerging from
the side aisle with a box of condoms still clasped in each hand.
"Busy day today!" Jazz said.
The woman rolled her eyes skyward. "I sometimes won-der why I stay working here," she said.
"Last year it was a man with a knife."
"It's only stuff," Jazz said. "And I'm sure he's insured. Bye!" She exited the shop and turned right, not
walking too fast or slow, not looking around, trying to appear for all the world as though she belonged.
****
Jazz was amazed at how smoothly things had gone. Harry had told her that people were easily fooled
because they were never prepared for things to go wrong and that confusion was the United Kingdom's
best tool when working on a nick. And now Jazz had seen how right he was. A bit of chaos, a bit of
misdirection, and the man and woman in the chemist had been thrown off-kilter long enough for her to lift
what needed lifting. It was a delightful ruse: get them concerned with Hattie taking a few minor items so
that she, Jazz, could slip across the counter and take what they really wanted.
Infections were common down in the
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