Yeah, No.
I Don't Know You.
— Kicker
To hire a thief, I needed to find a thief. To find a thief, I needed to get robbed.
I went to the mall and bought ten shiny but cheap fake leather wallets. Inside each, I placed a note that said, "This was a test. I've got a job that's worth a lot more than you'll get lifting wallets. Let's talk. Meet me at The Third Rail in Whiting, Sunday at 5. Look for the yellow scarf."
The Third Rail is a dive bar just off 119th Street, near New York Ave. It's a dump and it's noisy. It's perfect.
I spent the week trying to get pickpocketed as many times as I could. I wandered through train stations in Gary, Hammond and East Chicago. I rode the South Shore line and hit the River Oaks mall.
Days later, I went to The Third Rail to see who showed.
The first contender cautiously approached me at the bar. He was a middle eastern-looking guy. Maybe late twenties.
"Nice scarf," he said.
"Nice job casing the place. I saw you hovering."
"Yo, I'm just here to see if you're for real."
"I respect that. Let's grab a booth and see if anybody else shows up. Ten of my test wallets got lifted."
"I'm good for three," he said, laying three of my wallets on the bar, one at a time.
"OK, man. Well done. What's your name?"
"Yeah, right. Next question."
"No worries. Give me a fake name if you want. I just need something to call you."
"You first."
"I'm Hellen," I said. Fuck it. I had no reason to give my name to a thief. Not even my preferred alias.
"Cool," he said. "I'm Yaz."
We found a booth by the windows facing the street and attempted the most meaningless of small talk as we waited for other pickpockets to join us. Four more eventually did. One of them was a guy named Rico, who I dismissed immediately.
He said, "I spy a cutie in a yellow scarf! Wassup hot stuff? I'm Rico Suave!"
"No, you're not. Go away." I have no patience for that kind of nonsense.
The next to arrive was a scrawny looking kid wearing a beanie cap. He sat down next to Yaz, shoving him a little in the process. He couldn't have even been sixteen.
"Are you old enough to be here?"
Instead of answering my question, he handed me a wallet. But it wasn't one of mine.
"What the hell is this?"
"It's Rico's. Let's see how long it takes him to come back looking for it."
Yaz didn't seem surprised. "Damn, Drops. That's cold."
I asked, "What's your name, kid?"
"Yeah, no. I don't know you."
"But you know him?" I asked, pointing at Yaz.
"I do believe we've met," the kid said, and they both laughed.
"OK, well, you're Beanie til you give me something else to call you."
"Beanie works," he said.
Next in was a guy in a red cap. He sat down next to me, and Beanie kicked my foot. Beanie's eyes darted from me to red cap, then back to me. He kicked my foot again and very subtly shook his head no. So subtly, I doubt anyone else saw it.
"What's your name, red cap?"
"I'm Vic."
The last person to join us was a guy who'd been watching from the bar. Very short brown hair. Maybe mid 20's. He laid a wallet on the table as he slid into the booth, next to Beanie.
"Glad you decided to join us. What's your name?"
"Owen. And you are?"
"I'm Hellen. Looks like six of my wallets have been accounted for. That's pretty good."
Beanie reached into his sweatshirt and pulled out two more.
"OK, that makes eight."
Beanie laughed and plopped two more on the table.
"Now you're just showing off," Yaz said. Owen rolled his eyes, and Beanie elbowed both of them.
"Well, shit. I started with ten wallets, and that's all of 'em. I guess we're all here. Anybody got somethin' to say before we get started? Any issues? Anybody? Beanie?"
Everybody looked around, like they were waiting for somebody else to say something, which meant it was time for my pitch.
"Alright then. Let's get to it. I want to hire a finder. I need somebody smart, with a really light touch. This isn't about lifting wallets. It's about finding something small for me. Something specific. The jobs will be easy but they need to be done exactly how I say. No cutting corners. No mistakes. You'll be paid well. We cool so far?"
Yaz said, "We cooool, Hellen.".
"I already got rid of Rico. That leaves the four of you. Beanie, Owen, Vic and Yaz. Here's a test. You've got fifteen minutes. Go steal something interesting but worthless. Winner gets the gig."
"Something interesting?" Vic asked.
"And worthless. Be clever. Impress me. You've got fifteen minutes, starting... Now."
Everybody left except for Beanie, who just sat there, staring at me.
"What's the matter," I asked. "You're not gonna play along?"
"Nah. I already won."
"How?"
"Look, I don't know what you're doing, but whatever it is, you don't want Vic. He's sloppy. That leaves me, Owen and Yaz. " Then he said their names again, laying their wallets on the table. "Owen. And Yaz. I snatched 'em while we were all squished together here. Whatever they steal for you is already mine, right? They'll trade it to get their wallet back. So I already won the game. What's the gig?"
"I'm not saying you got the job yet, but... Oh, fuck."
"What?"
I pointed to the window. Half a block away, Vic was getting chased by two men he'd presumably stolen something from. And Beanie was loving it.
"Aw yeah. Run, Victor, run!!! Look at that asshole go."
"Ugh. That's not gonna end well."
"I told you," Beanie said, kicking my foot again. "Vic's sloppy."
As we watched Vic get slammed against the side of a building across the street and robbed by the men I assume he'd been trying to rob, I explained the job to Beanie.
"Yeah, Vic's out. So, assuming you get the gig..."
"It's mine."
"Assuming you get the gig, you'll go into people's homes to find something for me. Something specific. You'll steal nothing. Just find the item, take a Polaroid picture of it, and get out. We do this old school. You'll have a copy of the keys, so you won't be breaking in, and you'll have two people with you, keeping watch. One inside, one outside. They'll give you a heads up if you need to leave. But this isn't dangerous. They're just there to make the job easy. Still with me?"
"Yeah."
"You'll do two or three jobs a week. Each job will take a couple hours. I'll pay you five hundred bucks up front, every time. If the item turns out to be valuable for me, you'll get a bonus. With bonuses, you'll easily make six figures by this time next year. All cash. And as an extra bonus, one year after each job, I'll give you the mark's keys again if you want to go back and rob the place on your own. That's up to you. I'm just hiring you to find what I'm looking for, take a picture and get out. Leave no trace, like you were never there."
"Hold up," Beanie said. "Rico's back."
"Hey, uhm, has anybody seen my wallet?"
Beanie shook his head in disgust and handed it over, minus a finder's fee, which Rico should have expected.
"D'ahhhhh, come on! Seriously?"
"Seriously. Shoo."
As Rico sulked his way out the door, I got back to explaining the job.
"Here's the catch, Beanie. You'll be looking for something small, and it'll be hidden. You're gonna have to search, but you can't leave any signs you were there. The mark needs to think the item was never seen. I know you're a lifter, but even if you find cash, you've gotta leave it untouched. Your job is to find what I'm looking for, take a picture, and get out."
"Gonna tell me what you're looking for?"
"Not yet. But it's probably gonna be a piece of paper. I'll be with you for your first job, to show you the ropes, so I'll tell you what you're looking for then. I've done this tons of times. It's easy, but it needs to be done right."
Beanie looked offended, as if I'd questioned his skills.
He said, "Bitch, I'm a pro."
"I hope so. I've taken a lot of steps to make sure these jobs have potential for high payouts. I'm offering you six figures a year to work a couple hours, two or three days a week. Recon's already been done, and I'm giving you muscle for backup. But for this to be the perfect crime, the marks can't know it happened. You've gotta leave no trace."
"I get it."
"Good. Then you get the gig, at least for a trial run."
"Hold up again. Here comes Yaz. I guarantee Owen's just a couple steps back."
"Got it. Don't mention the job, OK?"
Sure enough, Owen was right behind Yaz, whose driver's license said his real name was Yusuf.
"Yusuf Carter," I said, handing him back his wallet.
"What the...? Oh, so that's how it is?"
"C'mon now. I made sure you got it back," Beanie said.
"That's awesome," Owen said. "Yaz, you got got."
"And Owen Ramsey," I said, handing Owen back his.
"That's some serious shade," Yaz said.
Vic was the last to return.
"You're late, Vic."
"Yeah, well, I got... delayed."
"By two dudes who run faster than you," Beanie said, pointing out the window. "We saw."
Beanie was right. No matter what the others brought back, he'd already won. Time to let them down gently.
"OK, so listen everybody, this was all fake. There's no job. It's for a sociology class. But I'll make it up to you. Drinks are on me. What'd you bring back?"
Vic laid a baby's bib on the table, and Beanie cursed him out.
"Oh, fuck you, man. Fuck you. Not cool! Get out. Never take something from a kid. Get out."
"He wasn't wearing it!" Vic said.
"Don't care. Get out. NOW!"
Beanie shot me a look from across the table, as if to say, "I told you so." Vic shrugged and left.
Yaz brought back large glossy letters he ripped out of a magazine.
"I got something you might recognize, Hellen."
He laid the letters on the table, one at a time, waiting to see how long it would take me to figure it out.
S.
H.
A.
Y.
"Yeah, yeah. OK, smarty pants," I said, while checking my purse to make sure my wallet was still there. And it was.
"Looks like I got got too. How and when?"
"I lifted your wallet last week, at the train station, when you were looking for us. Your real wallet. I followed you til I could put it back in your purse. I just wanted to know who I'm dealing with."
Fuck. He got me. How did I not see that coming?
"You did good, Yaz. Gotta admit, I'm impressed. Bartender! Get this guy a drink! He's earned it. And what about you, Owen? What'd you bring back?"
Owen laid a single penny on the table, and slid it my way.
Yaz looked perplexed. "What? That's nothing."
"Exactly. I lifted it from an old lady's purse. And because I'm a nice guy, I replaced it with a quarter, so she came out 24 cents ahead. But that's not what makes the penny worthless."
"OK, then what?"
"It costs more than a penny to make a penny."
"What's the point if it costs more to make less?"
"THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING, YAZ!!!"
"I know. I'm fucking with you."