The sirens blasted through the crisp night air, spotlights blazing and search dogs barking. The man huddled behind an abandoned lorry, clutching his jacket to his chest. I haven’t done anything! he thought frantically. Why are they looking for me?

The bobbies’ whistles got dangerously close, then died away. He sighed, relieved. This alley was probably too out- of-the-way for them to even notice.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps splashing through the murky puddles at the alley entrance. He held his breath, staying as still as possible. The sounds paused, then seemed to fade away. He let out a breath.

A grimy face thrust into his own; hands hoisted him up by the collar. Thompson gasped for air.

”’Ello. Looks like we found ya!” the Warden leered. Thompson punched him in the face and stumbled through the alley. That would probably warrant him for an arrest anyway.

Bobbies surrounded the alley entrance, beating Thompson down with their clubs.

“We got him!” one yelled.