Page 160 - The Book Thief

water, or as he put it, two buckets of future ice.

Just before two oclock, he went to work.

Without any hesitation, he poured the water onto the road in the exact position
where Otto would pedal around the corner.

Liesel had to admit it.

There was a small portion of guilt at first, but the plan was perfect, or at least as
close to perfect as it could be. At just after two oclock every Friday, Otto Sturm
turned onto Munich Street with the produce in his front basket, at the handlebars.
On this particular Friday, that was as far as he would travel.

The road was icy as it was, but Rudy put on the extra coat, barely able to contain
a grin. It ran across his face like a skid.

Come on, he said, that bush there.

After approximately fifteen minutes, the diabolical plan bore its fruit, so to
speak.

Rudy pointed his finger into a gap in the bush. There he is.

Otto came around the corner, dopey as a lamb.

He wasted no time in losing control of the bike, sliding across the ice, and lying
facedown on the road.

When he didnt move, Rudy looked at Liesel with alarm. Crucified Christ, he

said, I think we might have killed him! He crept slowly out, removed the basket,
and they made their getaway.

Was he breathing? Liesel asked, farther down the street.

Keine Ahnung, Rudy said, clinging to the basket. He had no idea.

From far down the hill, they watched as Otto stood up, scratched his head,
scratched his crotch, and looked everywhere for the basket.