Rusty pocketknife × 1
Small flashlight × 1
Hammer × 2
(one medium, one small)
Hand towel × 1
Screwdriver × 3
(varying in size)
Ski mask × 1
Clean socks × 1
Teddy bear × 1
Liesel saw him from the kitchen window—his purposeful steps and committed face, exactly like the day he’d gone to find his father. He gripped the handle with as much force as he could, and his movements were stiff with rage.
The book thief dropped the towel she was holding and replaced it with a single thought.
He’s going stealing.
She ran out to meet him.
There was not even the semblance of a hello.
Rudy simply continued walking and spoke through the cold air in front of him. Close to Tommy Müller’s apartment block, he said, “You know something, Liesel, I was thinking. You’re not a thief at all,” and he didn’t give her a chance to reply. “That woman lets you in. She even leaves you cookies, for Christ’s sake. I don’t call that stealing. Stealing is what the army does. Taking your father, and mine.” He kicked a stone and it clanged against a gate. He walked faster. “All those rich Nazis up there, on Grande Strasse, Gelb Strasse, Heide Strasse.”
Liesel could concentrate on nothing but keeping up. They’d already passed Frau Diller’s and were well onto Munich Street. “Rudy—”
“How does it feel, anyway?”
“How does what feel?”
“When you take one of those books?”
At that moment, she chose to keep still. If he wanted an answer, he’d have to come back, and he did. “Well?” But again, it was Rudy who answered, before Liesel could even open her mouth. “It feels good, doesn’t it? To steal something back.”
Liesel forced her attention to the toolbox, trying to slow him down. “What have you got in there?”
He bent over and opened it up.
Everything appeared to make sense but the teddy bear.
As they kept walking, Rudy explained the toolbox at length, and what he would do with each item. For example, the hammers were for smashing windows and the towel was to wrap them up, to quell the sound.
“And the teddy bear?”
It belonged to Anna-Marie Steiner and was no bigger than one of Liesel’s books. The fur was shaggy and worn. The eyes and ears had been sewn back on repeatedly, but it was friendly looking nonetheless.
“That,” answered Rudy, “is the one masterstroke. That’s if a kid walks in while I’m inside. I’ll give it to them to calm them down.”
“And what do you plan to steal?”
He shrugged. “Money, food, jewelry. Whatever I can get my hands on.” It sounded simple enough.