Competition

Martin was walking calmly in the crowd of people. He knew that any unprecedented or suspiciously quick movement could give him away. He imagined that he was going home from work, tired after the whole day, hoping to find some rest on the sofa but at the same time worried that he will be flooded by the tasks at home. With this picture in his mind, he could easy adopt the right mindset, the right speed and the right expression, so that he would blend in and people would never suspect anything. Being able to pickpocket successfully always depended on two things - taking the wallet unnoticed and equally unnoticed blending into the crowd. 

The crowd fluently led him towards his favourite hiding place. A statue placed on a high column which itself was placed on a high bases situated on top of the hill on top of steep stairs. Noone ever climbed those stairs, much less on the top of the basis, so Martin could calmly trust his hiding spot. He started going there as a little boy and it was still his favourite place even now when he was just about to turn adult.

Martin's dad was a curious man. Whatever he did, he had to do it well with all his presence and all his attention. One of family’s favourite stories goes that when his dad was a little boy, he got into his hands cards and decided to learn how to play Poker. He asked his grandfather to explain the rules to him and played with him the first week, incessantly, every moment when his grandfather was awake. Then he got hands onto a little book that explained all the figures and the common tricks. He didn't let the book go until he knew it word by word. And then he set himself a budget of 1000 dollars, that was to be his investment and he started playing with everyone willing to do so. He played well into early mornings with his neighbours, prostitutes, and sailors. Just before he lost almost all the money, he started to win, his career gave a full U-turn and he got back everything with a nice fat premium. 

Martin remembered very distinctly this period of his father's life because he never saw him at home and when he did, his father was always playing with the deck of cards, or was talking about cards and was repeating previous games in his head, card by card to figure out where he had gone wrong. Then came the period of long-distance running, domino playing, and guitar playing. All of this while maintaining a job at the docks.

Martin never inherited his need for constant activity. The need for Doing. Doing just about anything that had caught his attention, but doing it with everything that was in him. But Martin did take after his father the need for perfection and the joy from a job well done. It didn't seem to have any sense to do things just half-heartedly because you could never derive any joy from a work well done.

Since Martin's father was always absorbed by one thing or another, the little boy often found himself without anything to eat. Not that they wouldn't enough money and not that he would ever feel any bitterness towards his father, he fully understood that his dad just forgot. Martin started to frequent the market in the neighbourhood and he would always sit for some time on the nearby statue of an old general. Martin tried to ask who he was but his father's answer was "I don't know. An important guy."

"How important?"

"Very." a word that slipped in between shuffling the deck.

"No, dad." a little child's irritated voice because he didn't get the answer that he wanted. "Who was he? What did he do?"

"A general. A very important general. Won many wars. A big heroe." the cards were perfectly shuffled and Martin asked no more.

But he still liked the statue because it was built on top of steep stairs and placed on the very tall column to highlight the very importance of this guy. Martin could see the whole market from there and he could observe all the transactions and daily movements and behaviours.

There were little boys who stole from the vendors. Martin loved to watch the movement from above. It was like a lake into which someone suddenly threw a stone. The common, regular movements were disturbed and created angry waves at one place or another. But more often than not, they managed to catch the boys and to Martin it always seemed like applying a brute force to something that you should solve with your intelligence. In that moment, a pickpocket was born. 

Martin spent hours observing people. Ladies who put their wallets into shallow pockets. Gentleman who liked to put their wallets into the back pocket and when they bent the wallet popped out nicely, just to help it slide out. But very quickly Martin realized that there were two parts to the art of pickpocketing. Seizing the object so that no-one would notice and leaving the scene unperceived. From above it was clear that most of the boys could get hold on to the wallet or purse, but they would immediately change their behaviour and it was as if they turned on a spotlight on them. Martin learnt quickly and soon became the best one in the neighbourhood.

“Hey, Marti” said an unexpected voice and he turned round. Philip, the only friend who knew that this was his favourite hiding place. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Sure, I was. Look. This lady has had all her salary in her wallet. I’m done for the day.” And Peter cockily showed all the contents.

“That was lucky. What would you say to a little contest?” said Martin before he managed to think about it. “The one who gets more wallets in one afternoon? The winner can keep them all. What do you think?” Martin’s own eyes started shining, he surprised even himself with this idea and he got more excited than expected. 

“That sounds good. In one afternoon? After the siesta? Say, between 3 and 7pm? And place? Anywhere?”

“Anywhere. So that we don’t crowd each other. In two days from now. On Friday.”

“Deal.”

Martin’s excitement began to evaporate from his pores. Every cell of his body filled with anticipation. Part of the success would be choosing the right place. The most crowded places are the ones where people tend to be the most careful. Martin immediately knew that he would choose his marketplace. He knew it well, he knew every vendor and every aisle. He knew most of the customers. There wasn’t any better place. It was the place where he learnt, where he observed. And this was his contest. The time when he could show that his friend was just a braggart, nothing else. 

Friday afternoon came. Martin had walked three times around the marketplace. He reminded himself of the vendors’ names again and he remembered how many children each one of them had. He had always been a well-educated and polite boy and it served him well. He memorized every little table and every space between the plastic curtains of each stall. If someone had asked him, he would be able to draw every detail.

At 3pm, he met Philip. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Do we count the number of wallets or the cash?” asked Philip sure that either one would work well for him.

“Wallets. Cash would be easier to cheat.”

“You don’t seriously think that I would cheat, do you? I don’t have any need to cheat against you.”

Martin chose not to respond to his condescending tone. “Just in case.”

“Alright, deal then. Meeting here exactly at 7pm. The one who comes late loses by default.”

“Deal.”

Martin entered the space between the stalls and looked quickly around. A lady with two little kids who each wanted different fruits. She wouldn’t know he was taking something from her even if he had announced it to her. Her wallet was in his pocket and before she finished her sentence he greeted Luisa who was selling at the first stall and continued. The next one was a couple who recently moved in together and were discussing what to cook for dinner. She never thought of closing her purse. As he took the third wallet, he stopped by to chat a little with Luigi, the only italian descendant in the neighbourhood. 

By the time he had seven wallets, his own pockets started to look suspicious. Maybe he should have opted for counting just cash. He climbed the hill and the monument again and found the only stone that was moving a bit. 

No space below it, but there was nowhere else to go and nowhere else to hid the wallets. He tried to dig a bit and managed just as much as to pack everything in there. The time was running but he knew that he managed to get one wallet in less than five minutes. He should be fine. Doubts entered him, what if public transport was still easier than this? Martin raised his pace and he was lucky, someone had left an old backpack by the trash container for homeless people to take use of. Martin seized it quickly. There would be no more need to go back up there until the time was up. 

6:45pm Martin left. There was nothing that would make him come late. 

6:52pm he was sitting at his favourite place overseeing the crime site. Martin couldn’t lift his gaze from it.

It was Phillip’s voice that woke him from the trance. “So I bet I won. Let’s see what we’ve got in here in my precious bag.” Phillip sat down and started counting. 23! 

Martin started to take out all the wallets he had collected. 22. Phillip’s eyes started to shine! “I won! I really won!”

“Not that fast.” Martin took out two more wallets from his pockets and then he lifted the stone where he hid the first seven. “Thirty-one.”

Phillip’s face reddened “You cheated! You surely have just asked the people to give them to you.” But he wasn’t about to sincerely fight and he just threw his wallets into Martin’s face and jumped down the statue.

Martin averted his gaze back to the marketplace. They started to close it. All the vegetables and other items were put into boxes and on carts to take them to cars or directly home. He saw Luigi and his daughter who came to help him because he was already too old to do all of it alone. 

Martin took the first wallet that lied right next to him. 30 pesos. Just enough for one kilo of potatoes. Maria. He looked at her photo. “She actually used to be quite pretty.” Now she had three kids and husband was nowhere to be found. Probably got tired of kids’ crying so much. 

Luisa. An old lady who had lived alone for the past fifteen years. She would do her shopping every single day because she couldn’t carry much anymore and so she always bought vegetables just for that one day. She changed her vendors based on a secret plan, so that she could buy at least a little bit from each one of them. 

The sky had darkened and the light that covered the statue and and the rest of the city took on its characteristic orange tone. Martin separated his and Phillip’s wallets. At first sight, it was clear that Phillip had chosen the area that he usually frequented. He also felt safer knowing the environment. Martin took out all the cash and divided it into his wallets, hiding it always in some unusual compartments so that the owner wouldn’t notice at first sight. 

He knew what would be his job tomorrow. And he also knew that this was the last time he had done such a thing.