Fuminori Nakamura - The Thief

“If someone calls their name, for example, or there’s a loud noise, most of their attention is drawn to that. Just like you were looking at that bum a second ago. There are limits to people’s awareness. More exactly, they’re sensitive when they’re breathing in and when they’re holding their breath, but when they breathe out they relax.”

The boy glanced at my sleeve.

“Pickpockets know this and we take advantage of it. The classic technique is to take the wallet at the moment you bump into them. But actually picking pockets isn’t a one-man job. You need partners. Three people is standard. One person to jostle the mark, one person to block other people’s view, one person to lift. And jostling doesn’t mean hitting them as hard as you can. Just brushing them with your shoulder is enough. In a crowd like this, if the person walking in front stops suddenly, the person behind will lose their balance, right? That’s all you need. The person who does the actual lift stops anyone seeing him from the left, and the blocker shields the right and from behind. The one who takes the wallet immediately passes it to his partner, who hides it. If you do it like that you’ll never get caught.”

A host, a sleazy guy standing outside a ladies’ bar trying to entice customers, was pestering a woman chatting on her cell phone as she walked. His ugly face was impossibly tanned, horrible enough to take your breath away.

“If you’ve got five people, two of them start arguing, and while everyone’s focused on that the other three can steal the spectators’ wallets. I’ve also heard of a street performer and a pickpocket who worked as a team. A long time ago, when I was teamed up with that guy I told you about, the one who took ten million yen, we used a whole range of tricks. He’d pretend to be drunk and put his arm round the mark. Then I’d step in to stop him and take their wallet. Or I’d trip someone up and run away. He’d steal their wallet while he was helping them up. Sometimes we paid some bum to shout that there was a pickpocket in the crowd. Every single person would instinctively put their hand on their wallet. We’d know exactly where each one was, so they were easy to steal. A kid like you couldn’t get a wallet from inside someone’s coat. You’d have to stick to the back pocket of their trousers. I don’t like tools, but you could use a small blade. If you cut along the stitching of the pocket, the wallet would just fall out under its own weight. But anyway, the basic thing is how you’re going to distract the target.”

I started walking and the boy did too.

“Stay there. Just this once.”

I followed the ugly host with my eyes.

“That guy’s wallet is in his right back pocket. I’m going to walk up behind him and tread on the heel of his shoe. While he’s off balance I’ll take his wallet, moving in time with him. Of course there’s a knack to treading on someone’s heel. You aim to hit them just as they’re about to take the next step. That way, nine times out of ten they’ll fall forward. Your own coat hides what you’re doing from people around you.”

I unbuttoned my jacket and approached the host. He looked around, spotted a flamboyantly dressed woman and changed direction. I followed him, opening my coat slightly to block the view from the left and checking that there was no one on my right. Then at the same instant I stepped on his right heel and pinched his wallet between my fingers. As he toppled over I pulled it, my body moving in unison with his. Slipping it into my right sleeve, I muttered an apology and moved off as he turned around, pretending I was in a hurry. He started to say something, but then looked away and scampered after the woman. I walked round a corner, the wallet still in my sleeve, and the boy joined me.

“Did you get it?”

It was an entirely ordinary brown Louis Vuitton wallet.

“Eight thousand yen. That’s pathetic. We’ll throw the wallet in the gutter somewhere.”

“I couldn’t see it. But I kind of got what you meant about matching his movements.”

“Really?”

He nodded emphatically.

“You’re small, so maybe you’d be best to crash into him at full speed, like a kid would do. As soon as you hit him, take his wallet. Then you say sorry and run off again, same as when you ran into him. If you’re on a train there’s no way out if you’re seen.”

“I want to try.”

“No way. Well, okay, try it on me.”

We went into a nearby Marui department store and stood in front of the mirror in the toilets. I took off my coat and put my wallet in my back pocket. He bumped into me and lifted it between his index and middle fingers and his ring finger.

“Try again.”

He repeated the same actions, took the wallet in exactly the same way. His timing was almost perfect, taking it at the exact moment I lost my balance. I figured he was about as quick as I had been when I was his age, and unless he made a mistake he wouldn’t get caught.

“That’s hopeless,” I said.

THE STREETS WERE busier than before. Just as I was thinking about buying the kid some clothes, he mumbled that he was going home. I thought he was sulking, but he said quietly that if he was late he’d get hit.

“By your mom?”

“By that guy who’s always coming round.”

He was looking at me impassively.

“Sometimes, when he’s drunk or whatever. It’s like he’s looking for an excuse to get angry, so I’ll get in trouble.”

I stopped a cab and handed him the 8,000 yen I took from the host. Before the door shut he asked in a small voice if he could come and see me again. When I replied that I figured he would even if I told him not to, he nodded. He even seemed to smile a little.

Watching the taxi drive away, I thought the man living with his mother must know about her job. Maybe he was the one who put her up to it. In the show window of a department store was a child-sized mannequin, all dressed up. Just as I was idly contemplating buying the outfit, I spotted a rich man on the other side of the street. I didn’t have any cash on me, so I figured it was karma.

An image of Saeko’s face flashed into my mind and I wondered what her child would be up to now. Her kid was probably about the same age as the boy.

I moved around so that I was facing the rich man I’d just seen, brushed against him gently and grasped his wallet with my fingers. Maybe I’d better buy lots of clothes rather than one good set, so that the boy could have changes. My heart skipped a beat as my wrist was seized. For a second I couldn’t work out what had happened. I tried to break free but the fingers holding me were incredibly strong. My hand was locked completely rigid and I couldn’t move a muscle, as though I was paralyzed. The people around us passed by without a glance. I was aware of the neon lights, the rows of cars, the huge buildings towering overhead. And right in front of me, squeezing my wrist, was Kizaki. He was wearing sunglasses, expressionless, his hair extremely short. Strangely, the scar on his neck was gone. All the other pedestrians just veered around us. I stared at him, unable to look away.

“Long time no see. I’ve been watching you.”

I couldn’t get my breathing under control. I had no idea what he was doing there.

“Niimi told me you guys only target rich people. I saw you from miles away, came closer and walked in front of you on purpose. It was brilliant. There’s no doubt about it, I’m the richest person here.”

With the man still gripping my arm tightly we passed through Kabukicho and entered a building standing in the shadows. He was so strong that I knew it was pointless to fight back or struggle. In fact, as we climbed the stairs in the darkness, I felt as though trying to escape would put me in even greater danger. The landings were filthy with dirt and grit and the grey walls were badly discolored, almost black in places. The exit was already far below us. Behind a door with no sign or nameplate we came to another door, a single sheet of black steel.