Thiefhunters in Paradise

I’m a world traveler, right? A “jet-setter,” some say. No arrogance here — just a fact. So how did I make such a cultural goof?

Here’s a typical work week: New York City, Connecticut for a family visit, Kansas, home for 24 hours, then off to Dubai. That was an actual week in January.

Other weeks might include Italy, Singapore, Australia, Peru, England… and I pride myself on having some awareness of basic cultural expectations. I bring gifts to Japan, dine late in Spain, offer and accept things with two hands all over Asia, eat with my right in India, and understand that “just now,” in South Africa, means later. As in, “I’ll call you just now.”

In Connecticut, I burned my right hand when the lid fell off my sister’s faulty tea kettle. Okay, there’s nothing wrong with the tea kettle. I just didn’t put the lid on tightly. Next day at a meeting in NYC, I nearly fell to my knees when a handshake reminded me of the scorch. There were lots of handshakes that day, and I quickly got into the habit of using an upside down left with “sorry, burned my hand.” This continued as blisters popped in Kansas.

By the time we got to Dubai, soft scabs were forming and my lefty handshake was second nature. I realized the gaffe in the midst of committing it in that muslim nation. Meeting the owner of one of Dubai’s spectacular hotels, he was gracious while I was a blubbering, blundering idiot with a mouthful of apologies.

Evening. A sudden, deafening heartbeat jars my bones, and a vague anxiety revisits. The helicopter is back. Hovering low, its searchlight swings over my window, invading my private space with public urgency. I feel consumed by the thrumming and vibrate with it. The beam of light passes over my window again before it flies away, but it doesn’t go far. It circles, again and again, as usual.

“Criminal on the loose again,” I say. This happens at least twice a week, sometimes twice a day. If it’s daylight, I feel compelled to run outside and stare up at the police chopper, or look for glimpses of it between the trees and rooftops. This is the nester in me, the homeowner afraid for her safety and security. And it’s the thiefhunter in me, trying to triangulate the position of the fleeing perp, guess the scene of the crime.

If it’s night, I mentally confirm that all doors are locked. Who is being hunted? What did he do? Where is he now? Where would I go, if it were me? My neighborhood’s a good one for hiding, with all its mature trees and shrubs and shadows. Lots of walls to leap over. Did I leave any lights on to light up the yard? Sometimes Bob and I turn on a police scanner, but it’s never interesting. Sometimes we only get valet parking attendants, or something to do with golf. We haven’t learned how to use it properly.

Sometimes the helicopter is accompanied by sirens on the ground, but not always. Today the police cars actually drove onto the street behind my house. There, they always turn off their sirens before entering the neighborhood.

I don’t live in a war zone, but in a city center. Having grown up in suburbia, I can’t ignore these incidents as life-long city-dwellers might. The searches are never resolved to my satisfaction. I never learn what happened, or if the subject was caught. In fact, I’m always left with the vague assumption that the helicopter just gave up and left the criminal on the loose. It’s always a criminal, by the way. Never a suspect. In my mind.

I lived in Atlantic City for a year and heard more sirens there. Many, every day. But no helicopters. Maybe it was just a budget thing. Maybe Atlantic City police didn’t have a helicopter.

Preface, part-a, Travel Advisory

If Bob’s and my first priority is putting pickpockets and con artists out of business, our second is to encourage international travel. Nothing would disappoint us more than to learn that we discouraged a potential traveler’s journey. Travel opens the mind and broadens the perspective. It’s the ultimate supplement to education. Plus, it’s fun.

This book is the culmination of ten years of intensive research in the streets of the world. Our hunt has taken us through more than 80 countries on six continents, to countless islands, and through the grit and glamour of cities from Cairo to Copenhagen, from Mombasa to Mumbai. In the places people love to visit most, distract theft, con games, credit card scams, and identity theft are rampant.

Bob and I are stalking a moving target. We haunt the public frontiers where tourist and street thief collide ever so lightly, ever so frequently. We don’t go off searching among the dim, deserted corners of a city; we merely join in the tourist parade, visit the guidebook highlights, and lurk where the crowds are. There, hovering near the tourist buck, waiting for or making opportunity, can be found the thieves, swindlers, and con artists. And, very close, anonymous as sightseers in a tour group, we stand, cameras aimed.

After we observe a thief in action, we usually try to interview him (or her, of course). Because Bob speaks many languages, because he has “grift sense,” that undefinable faculty for the con, and because he can absolutely prove himself to be a colleague, the thieves talk. Some remain reticent, but most seem to enjoy our chats. Some refuse to speak on camera, others don’t mind at all. Kharem, a thief we found at work several times over the course of a year, is one who spoke openly with us, demonstrated his techniques on video, and arrived promptly for a meeting scheduled a week in advance. When we finished our third interview with him, Kharem had a surprise suggestion for us.

“Now I will steal and you can film me. I want to be the star of your movie,” he offered.

“That’s impossible, Kharem. We work on stage, not on the street. We cannot be part of real stealing. We cannot be with you knowing that you’ll steal.”

“I think he smells a big payment,” our interpreter, Ana, said in English to us.

“We can split three ways,” Kharem said, dispelling that theory.

“It would be great footage…” Bob mused. “But we can’t. No way.”

I agreed.

“What if he gives it back?” Ana tried.

“I don’t think he’d understand that concept.”

“He’s going to steal anyway,” Ana said. “If not now, later. Whether you’re watching or not.” She was well aware of the crime statistics in her city.

“No. We’d be accessories. We’re treading morally murky water as it is. We have to draw a line and this is definitely it.”

Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams
Preface (part-a): High and Dry on the Streets of Elsewhere