The people he passed shone and shifted, their voices loud and musical. Ryan paused outside a takeaway, the scent of meat and onions so intense he felt he could taste them, though he had no need of food. He grinned at his reflection in the window, knowing he was untouchable.
A young woman glanced at him, stared. He winked at her, certain she liked what she saw. He was well dressed, clean, his hair trimmed, his shoes new. All thanks to the stupid bastard who’d had five hundred quid in his wallet to impress the bloke he’d hired to be his toy for the night. The young woman turned away, said something to her friend, and they laughed together. Ryan’s smiled widened. He would have liked to stay and talk to them, but there wasn’t the time. He had to keep moving, earn more cash. Five hundred didn’t go far these days.
Further down the road he saw an elderly man waiting at a bus stop, standing apart from the rest of the queue. He wore a brown raincoat, had a bald head and crumpled skin. Ryan started at him, seeing his grandfather. The man took out a wallet, began fumbling through it. Ryan smirked. Big mistake. The wallet already had his name on it. There was an Underground station down the road, and if he could make it before someone grabbed him, he would be away. And he knew he would make it. They wouldn’t catch him, couldn’t stop him.
He increased his pace, seeing a bus lumbering down the road and the people in the queue start shuffling in anticipation. Jostling, pushing, like sheep in a pen. Ryan hated them. Not the man with the wallet, though – he was a friend, and a generous one.
The bus slowed, almost at the stop. The man took a hesitant step towards the kerb, and as he did so, Ryan reached him, grabbed the wallet and ran. There were shouts behind him, but he didn’t care. They couldn’t catch him, wouldn’t even try when they saw it was pointless. He was away on his toes and cruising, in control, the station and his escape route just ahead.
He dodged a group of laughing teenagers, weaved around a wheelchair and a man carrying a little girl on his shoulders. So slow, they were all so fucking slow. There was no one behind him, though. No reaching hands, no shouts of abuse.
The station was across the road now, and he felt a laugh escape him as he jogged towards it. It had been so easy. By the time anyone had realised what was happening, especially the doddering old sod he’d robbed, he’d vanished. Too clever, too quick.
Too late.
He never saw the car, but he felt the impact.