Chapter 1Killian watched for the signal. He was ready. He was waiting. The crowd was enthralled by his partner, and ready to be robbed.
In the Long Depression, people were, needless to say, depressed. Which, fortunately, was good for business, seeing as they were bored, and needed entertainment, which con-artists were happy to provide. Killian was a pickpocket, and he was waiting to do his job. His partner was giving the crowd their entertainment, and distracting them from him. Their eyes were glazed, gazing at the flames of the fire dancer in front of them. The flames were dazzling now, the dancer reaching the apex with his two staffs.
The crowd was large, and they were cheering the busker on, rather than guarding their wallets. The excitement in the air was engrossing. And Kilian was just a street urchin, very small and skinny, good at moving unnoticed. The performer made his signal, and he went to work.
He had done this before. His feet made hardly a sound against the pavement of the square. He cracked his fingers, and pulled his lucky bowler hat down on his head. He saw a plump man in a fine suit applauding. He had a golden pocket watch, and fine spectacles. Killian walked up behind him, seeing a wallet peeking from his back pocket. He wiggled his fingers. Ready. He moved silently, and in one slow movement pulled the moneybag out. The man didn’t even blink.
Now that he had one, the others would be easy.