Yeah, no.
I don't know you.
— Kicker
To keep myself safe, it was time to stop going into homes. That meant I needed to hire somebody else to do it, and they had to have skills.
Thieves have skills.
I decided to hire one.
To hire a thief, I needed to find a thief.
To find a thief, I needed to get robbed.
To accomplish that, I bought ten shiny fake-leather wallets. Inside each, I placed a note that said, "This was a test. I've got a job. I need a pro. Let's talk. Be at The Third Rail in Hegewisch, Sunday at 5. Look for the black scarf."
The Third Rail is a dump of a dive bar, just off Baltimore Avenue. It's old. Ugly. Noisy. And perfect.
Whenever Claire and I weren't soaking marks, I was busy trying to get pickpocketed. I took the Red Line down to 95th Street and the Blue Line through the loop during rush hour. I wandered through the crowd at the Chicago Marathon. I hit the Maxwell Street Market and Oktoberfest in Tinley Park. Okay, those two were a bust, but a girl's gotta eat.
I managed to get the last of my test wallets pickpocketed outside a Bears game before heading to The Third Rail to see if anybody would show.
One guy had his eyes on me the moment I got there. He looked Middle Eastern. Mid twenties.
"Nice scarf," he said.
"Nice job casing the place. I saw you hovering."
"I'm just here to see if you're legit."
"I respect that. Let's grab a booth while we wait to see who else shows up. Ten of my test wallets got lifted."
"I'm good for three," he said as he laid a trio of my test wallets on the bar, one at a time.
"Okay, man. Well done. What's your name?"
"Yeah, right. Next question."
"No worries. Give me a fake name if you want."
"You first."
I said, "I'm Hellen." Fuck it. I had no reason to give a thief my real name. Not even my preferred alias.
"Coool," he said. "I'm Yaz."
We found a booth by the windows facing the street and attempted some meaningless small talk as we waited for more pickpockets to join us. Four did. I dismissed the first of them immediately.
He said, "I spy a cutie in a black scarf! Wassup hot stuff?"
"I spy a jackass. Go away." I have no patience for that kind of nonsense.
The next to arrive was a small scrawny kid wearing a beanie cap. He couldn't have even been sixteen. He sat down next to Yaz, shoving him as he scooched into the booth.
"Are you old enough to be here?"
Instead of answering my question, the kid handed me a wallet. But it wasn't one of mine.
"What the hell is this?"
"I got it from the guy you just kicked out. His name's Rico."
Yaz didn't seem surprised. "Damn, Drops. That's cold."
I asked, "What's your name?"
"Yeah, no. I don't know you."
"But you know him?" I said, pointing at Yaz.
"I do believe we've met," the kid said, and they both laughed.
"Okay, well, you're Beanie 'til you give me something else to call you."
"Beanie works."
The next pickpocket to show up was a guy in a red cap. He sat beside me, and Beanie kicked my foot. Beanie's eyes darted from me to red cap, then back to me, and he kicked my foot again as he very subtly shook his head no.
"Got a name, red cap?"
"I'm Vic."
The last person to join us was a guy who'd been watching from the bar. A tall guy. Short brown hair. Maybe mid-twenties. 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?"
"I'm 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.
"Okay, that makes eight."
Beanie laughed and plopped another on the table. "I got one more, but I'm keeping it. As a trophy."
"Now you're just showing off," Yaz said, as Owen rolled his eyes. Beanie elbowed both of them.
"Okay then," I said. "I had ten test wallets. Looks like they're all accounted for, so... I guess we're all here. Anybody got something to say before we get started? Anything? Anybody? Beanie?"
Everybody looked around, like they were waiting for somebody else to say something, which meant it was time for me to do my thing.
"Let's get to it. I'm looking for a finder. I need somebody smart, who knows how to leave no trace. This isn't about lifting wallets. It's about finding something small. 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 coooool, Hellen."
"I already got rid of Rico. That leaves the four of you. Vic, Beanie, Owen, and Yaz. Here's a test. Go snatch something interesting but worthless. Winner gets the gig."
"Something interesting?" Vic asked.
"And worthless," I said. "Be clever. Impress me. You've got fifteen minutes, starting... Now."
Everybody left, except Beanie, who just sat there, staring at me.
"What's the matter? You're not gonna play along?"
He said, "Why play? I already won."
"How?"
"Look, I don't know what you're doing, but 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, one at a time. "Owen. And Yaz. I lifted 'em while we were all squished together here. Whatever they steal for you is already mine. They'll trade it to get these back, right? Game's over. I won. 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, and Beanie loved it. "Ah 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 and robbed by the men he probably just robbed, I explained the job to Beanie.
"Yeah, Vic's out. So, assuming you get the gig..."
"It's mine."
"...here's the deal. 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, to keep watch. They'll give you a heads up if you need to bail, so you won't have to worry about that. Still with me?"
"Yeah."
"You'll do three jobs a week. Each job will take a couple hours, max. I'll pay you five hundred bucks up front, every time, plus a bonus if the item is valuable. You'll easily make six figures by this time next year. All cash."
"Hold up," Beanie said. "He's back."
Rico sheepishly approached the booth where we were sitting. "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'ahhh, come on! Seriously?"
"Seriously," Beanie said. "Shoo."
As Rico sulked his way out the door, I got back to explaining the job.
"Here's the catch, Beanie. The item you're looking for will be hidden, and it'll be small. You're gonna have to search, but you can't leave any signs you were there."
"I'm a lifter. I know the drill."
"This is different. The mark needs to think the item I'm sending you in to find was never seen. Your job is to find it, snap a picture, and get out clean."
"Gonna tell me what the item is?"
"Not yet. But I'll be there for your first job, to show you the ropes. We'll talk about 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'm offering you six figures a year to work a couple hours, three days a week. The recon will be done, and you'll have muscle for backup. But for this to be the perfect plan, the marks can't know anyone was in their homes. You've gotta leave no trace."
"I get it."
"Then you get the gig, at least for a trial run."
"Hang on. Here comes Yaz. I bet Owen's just a couple steps back."
"Got it. Don't mention the job, okay?"
Sure enough, Owen came in right after Yaz, whose driver's license said his real name was Yazid.
"Yazid Khalid," I said, handing him back his wallet.
"Faaak! So that's how it is, huh?"
Beanie rolled his eyes as Owen laughed. "C'mon now. I made sure you got it back."
"That's awesome, Yaz," Owen said. "You got got."
"And Owen Ramsey," I said, handing him back his.
"What the...?"
Owen reached into his pocket and pulled out the last of my ten test wallets. "Jesus, Drops. Really?"
Beanie just shrugged him off. "Don't be like that. You got it back. Didn't even take a finder's fee."
"That's some serious shade," Yaz said, with a little too much emphasis on shade.
Vic was the last to return, and Beanie made sure he knew it.
"You're late."
"Yeah, well, I got kinda held up."
"You got literally held up, by two dudes," 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.
"Okay, so listen, this was all fake. There's no job. It's for a sociology class at Purdue. But I'm gonna 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 started cursing the moment he saw it.
"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."
As Vic left, Yaz pulled out large glossy letters he'd ripped out of a magazine. "I got something you might recognize, Hellen."
"Oh?"
He laid the letters on the table slowly, waiting to see how long it would take me to figure it out.
S.
H.
A.
Y.
"Yeah, yeah. okay, 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. Your real one. Got it on the Red Line, when you were looking for us. I followed you 'til I could put it back. 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 say, I'm impressed. Let's get this guy a drink! He earned it. And what about you, Owen? What'd you bring back?"
Owen laid a single penny on the table. As he slid it my way, Yaz looked confused.
"What? That's nothing."
"A penny's less than nothing," Owen said. "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 it worthless."
"Okay, then what?"
"It costs more than a penny to make a penny."
"What's the point of making pennies if it costs more to make less?"
"THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING, YAZ!"
"I know, man. I'm fucking with you."