Chapter 1

A late spring sun shone down from a
cloudless blue sky and warmed up the grimy
facade of old Dublin. Dear auld Dublin,
birthplace, home and livelihood to one
George Beak, armed and sometimes unarmed
robber. Georgie stood at a bus stop in
College Green and watched movements at the
Big Grey Jug with professional interest. He
was not distracted by the pretty young girls
and boys who fluttered past his post, gay
butterflies welcoming the sun, floating
among the exhaust fumes and the stink
floating up from the Liffey. Georgie wore a
blue pin-striped suit, brown brogues, a
white silk shirt with matching tie and he
carried a brolly in case of an unexpected
shower. All the clothes he wore had been
nicked for Georgie by the dippers. The
shoplifters liked a special order. It meant
they did not have to go hawking hot gear
after a hard day's shoplifting. Even the big
bunch of daffodils, behind which Georgie hid

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his well-known mug, had been purchased with
stolen money. It gave Georgie an
indescribable feeling of satisfaction to
steal. It was bliss to his crooked soul. The
first stroke he had pulled was when he
whipped a cone from a rich kid parked in a
pram next to his own. It had been delicious
but not as delectable as the thrill that had
run up and down Georgie's little dumpy legs.
The screams, the howls of outrage, were the
same; coming out of the mouths of babes or
bank tellers. It was all the one big
Hee-Haw.
Georgie buried his face deep in the
fragrant blooms and willed himself to blend
into the pavement.He was a concrete lizard,
a camouflaged crook.
The Granada, carrying five heavy
porkers, had been in the area all morning.
The boot was hopping off the ground and
the car looked to Georgie like a huge can of
ham with four wheels welded onto it. He

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