The Thief

The Thief

Fuminori Nakamura

Language: English

Pages: 224

ISBN: 1616952024

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


A literary crime masterpiece that follows a Japanese pickpocket lost to the machinations of fate. Bleak and oozing existential dread, The Thief is simply unforgettable.  

The Thief is a seasoned pickpocket. Anonymous in his tailored suit, he weaves in and out of Tokyo crowds, stealing wallets from strangers so smoothly sometimes he doesn’t even remember the snatch. Most people are just a blur to him, nameless faces from whom he chooses his victims. He has no family, no friends, no connections.... But he does have a past, which finally catches up with him when Ishikawa, his first partner, reappears in his life, and offers him a job he can’t refuse. It’s an easy job: tie up an old rich man, steal the contents of the safe. No one gets hurt. Only the day after the job does he learn that the old man was a prominent politician, and that he was brutally killed after the robbery. And now the Thief is caught in a tangle even he might not be able to escape.

From the Hardcover edition.

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hand. The tall guy lit a cigarette and spoke without turning round, as though he couldn’t be bothered talking. “We could have done it with three but it was better to have more, just to be sure. They’d feel outnumbered, and if the old man han’t cooperated we would’ve needed several men to carry away the safe. What was the other thing you asked about?” “Why us?” “Actually we already had three other guys lined up. Friends of ours. But the boss changed his mind when he heard that Niimi was

complete mystery. Why does the subconscious mind make people steal? Why does it have to be stealing? Don’t you think it’s something deep-rooted in our nature?” The boy shook his head to show that he didn’t know. “But now’s our chance. It’s crowded and that store detective isn’t here.” I put everything that was on the list into my bag, and beer, water and ham into the basket. Then we paid at the checkout and left. WE WENT TO a park, and when I handed the boy one of the lunches he started

complete mystery. Why does the subconscious mind make people steal? Why does it have to be stealing? Don’t you think it’s something deep-rooted in our nature?” The boy shook his head to show that he didn’t know. “But now’s our chance. It’s crowded and that store detective isn’t here.” I put everything that was on the list into my bag, and beer, water and ham into the basket. Then we paid at the checkout and left. WE WENT TO a park, and when I handed the boy one of the lunches he started

short and you still don’t have much strength.” I finished my beer. “You could use a tool. It’s got a tip like a fish-hook to snag the wallet.” “Have you got one?” “I don’t use tools. But there’s a famous pickpocket who did.” “Who?” he asked, staring at me. “A man called Barrington. An Irishman who lived in England a long time ago. He was in a theater company that was invited to noblemen’s houses, and he picked those rich people’s pockets like there was no tomorrow. He made the tools himself

in a gruff voice as he sat down. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, but his face was covered in strange lines so it was hard to tell. “Right, you guys look like you won’t screw up. You all look thoroughly dishonest.” He tossed us some bottles of water. I hesitated to open mine but Tachibana started to drink, watching their faces. The other two guys were in their thirties, of medium build. Like the tall man, their faces were marked with lines. One had a buzzcut, the other a flattop, and both

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