Barbaduse, with magician’s fingers, lifted the wallet of the fat guy at the end of the train car and, swiftly, got off at the next stop.
He was making it to the exit of the subway station when he suddenly found himself squeezed between two dark-clad, sun-glassed strangers.
“We’ll take the loot,” the shorter one said, shoving something hard and pointy against Barbaduse’s ribs.
The little pickpocket clasped the wallet harder inside his jacket’s pocket. From the feel of it, it was top-of-the-line loot.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” he blurted as the squeeze became tighter.
They were now at the bottom of the stairs and there were dozens of people around.
Just make a run for it. They’ll never do anything with so many people around..
But Barbaduse’s nemeses came from the breed who could read little pickpockets’ minds.
As he tensed to jump ahead, the shorter darkman pushed the blade, in one expert motion, into the boy’s side.
The paramedics could do nothing. Barbaduse left the station in a body bag. Empty.