Then how come my stomach is tied up in knots and my blood is pounding at the temples? But all I have to get are two things and they aren't the most expensive things in the world.

I walk into Metro and saunter casually to the escalator. Halfway up, I glance back. Eng Teck is two steps behind and yet he's already up to my shoulders in height. You can imagine how tall he is when he's standing next to me. He's seemingly engrossed in a Calvin Klein poster but I know he's trying to spot the plainclothes security guards. If you bother to look for them, these guys are easy to find. They're the ones looking at people instead of the things on display. Sometimes you can even spot an antenna sticking out of their pants pocket.

At the top of the escalator, I get off and move briskly to the ladies' leather goods section. My eyes keep roaming, trying to catch any hint of security. There's none. Behind me, Eng Teck follows like a shadow. He wants to skive a VCR and I promised to help him if he would help me first. What he doesn't know is that this is my very last skive. After this, no more.

Okay, so what kind of bag will she like? A bag makes a good present because it's useful and practical and every time she carries it, she'll be reminded of me. I pick up a leather haversack from the Carlo Rino display. Nice tan colour and not too many pockets. But does it suit her taste? I finger the price tag--it costs $150. I like it but I know how she'll react to an expensive present. Better look for something cheaper.

At the next display, my eyes sweep over the range of Elle bags. There's nothing I really like, so it's over to the Pierre Cardin collection. There're two halves to this display: one is a collection of leather bags, while the other is the new range featuring polyester ones. This is interesting. I study the new range, run my fingers over the bags and feel the sturdy material. Then like an iron filing pulled toward a magnet, I'm drawn to a black haversack. I pick it up, examine it. It's a good size with a main compartment and a smaller one in front. Not too fancy, not too plain. Perfect. I look up o find Eng Teck already at the stationery collection. He senses my eyes on him and looks up too and I give him the thumbs up.

Then replacing the bag on the shelf, I move over to where he is. He waves his hand over the wide range of pencil cases as if he's a salesman peddling cheap wares. I start hunting for a black one to go with the haversack.

After a few minutes, Eng Teck starts tapping his foot. Can't he be patient? I'm searching for the perfect one. The next pencil case I pick up seems right. It's slim and made of calf skin leather and its colour matches the haversack's. She'll be able to keep her collection of pens in this. Yes, this is perfect. I give Eng Teck a nod and on cue he sneezes, knocking over half the pencil cases on the display shelf. We drop to our haunches instantly, trying to pick up the dropped pencil cases, trying to act really embarrassed. I shove the chosen one into my pants, under the elastic band of my briefs. Then standing up abruptly, I move away from Eng Teck to head back to the haversack. A quick sweep of the area reveals that the few early afternoon shoppers are watching Eng Teck with amusement. The two salesgirls in charge of the section are already hovering over him, chattering like monkeys, scolding him for being so careless. He's apologising profusely. When I reach the haversack, I glance up, scan for cameras and mirrors. None in this section. Good.

I pull out the Swiss Army knife from my pocket and with the tiny scissors, snip off the name and price tags. Next, I shrug off my own haversack and dumped its contents into the Pierre Cardin one. Textbooks, pencil box, P.E. clothes. Then scrunching up my haversack, I stuff that in too, pushing it under my books. Tugging hard at the zipper pull, I close the new haversack and sling it onto my shoulders. Mission accomplished. I start walking, but not too quickly, for that's the surest way of attracting attention. Now that I have my targets, it's best to fade into the crowd. I head straight for the nearest exit. Eng Teck heads back for the escalator. I'll go home and use the shiny wrapping paper to wrap up the haversack and pencil case. Should I put the pencil case in the haversack or present them as separate gifts? Maybe I shouldn't give them to her in school. Should I go over to her house?

I'm twenty steps from the door when I notice him. He's in a pair of beige pants and a white shirt. He doesn't even have a walkie talkie but it's the way he's moving that alerts me. He strides quickly and stops right in the middle of the exit, as if to study the mannequin display by the door. But he's watching me from the corner of his eye. Instantly, I execute a sharp right turn and head down an aisle of ladies' dresses. I stop and pretend to check out the price tag of a green evening gown. The man abandons the mannequin display and heads in my direction. Oh no! I walk away, making a beeline for the escalator. Better go down to the next floor and run out the nearest exit. I quicken my pace. He does the same. This is bad. This is very bad. I should get rid of the targets. But how? My bookswith my name written in themare in the Pierre Cardin haversack! Maybe he doesn't want to catch me. Maybe I left a book at the display and he merely wants to return it to me. Yeah, right. His hands are empty.

I hurry to the escalator, almost running by now. Panic is making me sweat profusely, even in the air-con. Ten more steps and I'll reach the escalator. But I stop short. Riding up toward me is Eng Teck. His eyes bear right through me, as if blaming me for all the misery in his life. Behind him, on the step below and with a firm hand on Eng Teck's shoulder, is another man in beige pants and white shirt. I turn back and see the first security guard approaching me with his beady eyes locked on mine.

Decision time: run or surrender?