Archil Zantaradze keeps a razor blade in his mouth the way someone else might store a tired wad of gum. Gently curving against his upper palate, he can dislodge the blade with a bit of tongue suction and discreetly arm himself in an instant.

True, pickpockets, by our definition, are non-violent. The razor, actually half a blade, is meant to slice a pocket or a purse; never human flesh. The technique is a specialty of Zantaradze, St. Petersburg's most notorious Georgian pickpocket, and peculiar to his compatriots.

Zantaradze perfected this dangerous practice while just a teenager. (I can imagine the technique easily: I did the same with my retainer as a teenager, when I thought there might be a speck of food caught in it. But I never worried about drawing blood!) He was taught by his own father, as all his brothers were. And before he ever even scraped a razor against his first soft whiskers, he could shoot the blade with awesome skill from its wet storage place to his soft palm. His dextrous tongue snaps as quickly as a frog's and he catches the razor in his hand as neatly as a magician palms a card.

Zantaradze's sleight of tongue is not unique among the criminal population of Russian Georgians. Those who aren't taught at home learn in jail, where the razor blade is a vital commodity. Desperately creative, inmates find inconceivable functions for the simple object. Indeed, when attached to a short length of wire and pushed into a power outlet, the lowly blade miraculously becomes both a little heater and a water-boiler. And, "a skillful cut of veins may lead a tired prisoner if not to death, then into the relative comfort of a prison's hospital bed," my official Russian contact explains. "Life accounts in prisons are also known to be settled with this small metal device. Not to mention the ordinary functions of the razor blade, like simply shaving or paper-cutting."

Vasily Zhiglov, our St. Petersburg Police informant, arrested Zantaradze last summer, and thereafter had ample opportunity to interview him. Lounging in prison, Zantaradze was unembarrassed but surprised that he had failed to bribe his way out. Officer Zhiglov acknowledged that not all of the policemen can resist this "easy-sounding temptation," as the sum represents full or at least half of a policeman's monthly wage. (The bargaining usually starts at 500 rubles-$25 at the time of our discussion.)

Yuri Egorov, 60, has been picking pockets in Russia for 42 years -- minus the 28 he spent in prison.

"If there is anything good about Georgian pickpockets, it's that they rather respect the might and intelligence of their counterparts," said Zhiglov. "Though the first thing a Georgian does when left tete-a-tete with his guard is propose to accept money." And only after having tried this trick will the typical Georgian pickpocket sit down calmly in the detention room. The main source of such calmness, Zhiglov says, is the detainee's understanding that he won't be left alone without the moral and financial support of his fellow-nationals.

Georgians, especially those living in foreign cities, are fiercely loyal to their compatriots; "stuck into a very firm community," as my Russian friend, Volod'a, put it. Emotional and temperamental, their national character is very different from other Russians. "Being representatives of a truly southern nation, Georgians on average have a temper no colder than Italians are said to have. A strong tradition for inheritance of one's family craft is also a very Georgian thing.

"Legend has it that the most successful Georgian pickpockets like to build their mansions in the west coast city of Zugdidi, on the eastern shore of the Black Sea, far from Georgia's capital, Tbilisi. And since many sons naturally step into their fathers' professions," Volod'a tells me, "experts claim Zugdidi is a virtual 'school of pickpocketing.'"

Strong connections within St. Petersburg's Georgian community allow the Georgian pickpockets, when detained, to count on the utmost support of their fellow-nationals. And this brings to practically zero the number of Georgian pickpockets actually sent to prison. (Of course there are equally united Georgians of other professions, including those of no criminal inclination.)

Pickpocket Andrei, 25, demos his stealthy technique on Officer Kokina, St. Petersburg Police.

Back to Archil Zantaradze, now calmly lounging in Officer Zhiglov's jail. It was not without a certain pride that Zantaradze admitted to Zhiglov that he, along with at least four other Georgians, spent the summer of '98 in France, "working" the streets and stadiums of cities hosting matches of the World Cup. Zantaradze maintained that a skilled thief could easily make three to five thousand US dollars a day by extracting cash from the pockets and bags of the hordes of often-drunk soccer fans cruising the streets and shops of every hosting city. The French towns, unaccustomed to such crowds and crime, were unprepared and understaffed for the deluge.

Officer Zhiglov estimates that there were about 70 Russians, mostly from Moscow and St. Petersburg, who combined the pleasure of watching World Cup matches with the labor of cleaning out other fans' bags and pockets. He said that before heading to "work" in a foreign country, a pickpocket would thoroughly study the criminal code of that country. "And one would certainly prefer to work in France or another European nation where the law is much softer on this particular crime than, say, in Arabic countries," Zhiglov said.

Each year Russia receives about a dozen of its returned citizens caught stealing abroad. Strangely though, St. Petersburg's police department had no contact with French police regarding St. Petersburgers caught picking pockets in France either during the 90 days of the competition or in any of the following months.

Igor Kudelya, Senior Lieutenant of the St. Petersburg pickpocket squad, has observed the Georgian pickpockets' techniques. He explained how, in buses, the Georgian would always ask his neighbor to pass ticket money to the conductor. When the man would lift his arm and stretch toward the conductor, "pockets of at least one side of his clothes became a safe place to pop in for the Georgian's skillful fingers."

The Lieutenant said that on frosty winter days, when other pickpockets' fingers "have frozen senseless," the Georgian can be spotted warming up his fingers by exercising them with two or three small metal balls before entering a working spot.