Free Kolia by Perrine Leblanc Page A

Iosif had not died in custody, nor as an escapee. With a single blow, Tanya had destroyed every possible scenario that he had invented to replace the official version of Iosif’s “disappearance.” His surprise blurted out of his lips in French.
    â€œWhen you arrived in Moscow, I couldn’t tell you. You were too fragile,” Tanya said in Russian.
    He thought about the official in the camp who had given him Iosif’s personal effects. Then he remembered the man Pavel had promised to introduce him to four years ago, someone who could have helped him find Iosif, or at least, find out what had happened to him. Pavel had forgotten about the promise and Kolia hadn’t wanted to risk mentioning it to him for fear of damaging their relationship. He still couldn’t believe his luck at having been admitted to the troupe. But maybe now it was time to broach the subject with him again.
    â€œYou seem positively happy now. The circus, all your new friends . . .” Tanya’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.
    Kolia jumped up from the table, barely controlling the urge to slap her across the face, but not the urge to spit in it. He stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him with enough force to wake up the entire building. Whatever it was that Tanya screamed behind him, he didn’t hear it. It would be a long time before he would see her again.
    In the days that followed, Kolia wrote a sketch for the trio that Bounine deemed as painfully mediocre. It was clear that he should concentrate on something he excelled at, and he retreated into his room intent on developing his talents as a magician to the fullest. He had refined his pickpocketing skills at the circus school and had also picked up a number of magic tricks that were guaranteed to amaze the crowd. The public loved to hand over money for the pleasure of being duped. He continued his education by studying the techniques of street kids and their bosses who stole for real on train platforms and streetcars and in the subway and public parks. In the ring, to distract the attention of a volunteer from the audience, he would make an elegant arc with his right hand and then a flurry of half-circles, while the left accomplished the inevitable and perfect theft.
    Soon he was testing his abilities on unwitting volunteers outside the ring — the occasional passerby in a park, someone standing in line at a store, or a fellow passenger on the streetcar — but only to relieve them of a handkerchief. He began to develop a taste for it. It was risky, but Kolia had acquired an intuitive sense of how reality could be deformed, how the barrier between what exists and what might exist was as porous in the real world as it was in the ring. The first thing was to size up the victim and analyze his clothing. Then, without looking directly at the pocket or wrist in question, wait until he was distracted by something in the environment. At that point, Kolia would accidentally bump into the victim, express an apology, and execute the theft. He pickpocketed subtly and judiciously, never stealing money or documents, and limiting himself to worthless objects only. That was at the beginning. Soon the feeling of exhilaration that came from practising this innocuous sleight of hand in public began to wear off, and he started stealing in earnest, but still for the sheer pleasure of it. Afterwards, he would faithfully return the item he had just stolen, feigning the concern of a good Samaritan.
    â€œExcuse me, comrade, you forgot this.”
    â€œComrade, you dropped your bag.”
    â€œExcuse me, comrade, I think you lost your wristwatch. It must have come undone. There you go. Be more careful next time.”
    He would inevitably look like a prince in the eyes of the comrade concerned.
    Kolia wanted for nothing thanks to his employment with the circus, which provided him a level of material comfort he had never known. The store shelves in Moscow