A dark figure ran with short, quick steps. He had his back hunched and jacket pulled up over is head. He stopped behind a wall and looked about. The view before him was of a deserted car park surrounded by shrubs and trees. The building was wooden and, although old, had undergone extensive alterations over the years.
A bright security light shone from a high wall, showing up two windows and a door. With one final check to make sure there was no traffic on the road, the figure raced for the side-door. He thrust a crowbar into the door lock and pushed hard against it until it broke something within, and opened the door. An unexpected small step caused him to stumble. Relieved to find no alarm, he closed the door and made his way to the back bookcase. His right leg hit the large old copying machine and he shouted a curse at the pain. He knew he should have watched out for it, and cursed again for forgetting. As he continued walking he told himself to watch for the chairs and thick rug.
At the left of the bookcase his hands fell on the series of books he wanted. He removed the plastic bag which had been stuffed under his belt and loaded it up with the entire row of books. His hands were shaking and the more he tried to hurry the more books missed the bag and fell to the floor. Having cleared the row, he searched around for the ones on the floor. He picked up three and was sure he missed a couple. After patting the floor for any more, he decided he had enough and it was time to leave.
He quickly made his way out, reminding himself to collect the crowbar and watch for traffic before he made his final dash through the security light to the safety of the other side of the street, and the motor scooter he had left parked out of sight behind a tree.