Authors: John Nicholas; Iannuzzi
This conveyance of wealth is shielded all around with thick armor, so that one cannot shoot the men inside, and therefore stop them from their appointed roundsâno that's the Post Office. At any rate, this ingenious machine was designed with thieves in mind, ordinary petty, bungling thieves, that is, for any thief who would plunder by killing and butchering, by force of arms, is really a peasant at heart. You see, the entire game I have designed, takes only my wits and myself into play; and I intend by the sagacious manipulation of my powers, to outwit this rumbling, moving fortress, with a swift and delicate thrust at its underside. This challenge involved, of course, was certainly one of the main considerations in the selection of this particular plan and this particular method of, shall I say, disregarding the distinctions between “meum et tuum”. It is not the money so much, just as it is never the battle, but to have fought well; that is fruition.
I imagine that on one of my forays to the end of the wharf, which is right down there, you see, behind that parked truck trailer, you see the cleat by the edge of the warehouse, well just behind that, there is a lip on which you can walk to the end of the wharf. No one stops you of course, since the warehouse and wharf have been unused now for six weeks. And I've checked, naturally I've checked everything, and it will not be operational again for at least another week. That trailer truck will be parked there for two more days, then it will leave for Chicago. It comes in rather handy too, as you shall see. There have been left no accidental aspects to this intrigue, for it is the overlooked in laziness which will spring up suddenly in revolt and foil a plot. Hmm, four more minutes to go, I'll have to outline this little maneuver rapidly, but let it suffice to say that on one of my trips to the end of the wharf, to my pallet of meditation, I decided, after passing the Allied Armored Car Corporation garage, or rather, I should say, I unconsciously filed the thought away for future meditation, that it would certainly be interesting to think of a way to outwit the steeled guardian and conveyor of the people's funds. I have often thought afterward that it was a devilish idea to contemplate since, in actuality, it could be very outrageous and harmful to the emotional stabilities of the stable. But then, by the same token, perhaps it was time they were stirred and prodded from their lethargy into doing something a bit more positive about their own protection. Nevertheless, the idea persisted and kept popping up at the most inopportune times, even once when I was in the presence, the, shall I say, quite charming presence, of a lovely young lady, ⦠but that's another story. And we do not have time for rambling. Finally, I began to think of exactly how I would crack open, I use this term only for an expression as opposed to a physical reality, how I would outwit this armored car. I did not consider the “why” I would outwit it, for I was sure they carried large sums of currency now and then, and I could find that out easily enough. I considered merely the game. How to do it, how to create the intrigue. Would I purposely cause the van to have an accident? No police and the like would stream around in no time at all. Perhaps puncturing a tire with a pellet from a rifle; possibly, but then you could miss and your chances would be ruined. I conjured up hundred of ideas; and each was promising; but each lacked something, or each had a drawback, or presented one danger or another, or showed one weakness or another. It was a difficult, but most enjoyable, mental exercise; and when I finally had decided upon a method, I had to then decide about the amount of money, and the time and the place I would appropriate it. This was more difficult, but that I did not want to become involved with, or known to, the people who operated the armored cars. And so, in order to find out their destinations and routes, I had to follow each truck as they toured on their route, and mark down the time and the place, and the approximate size of the load which they were carrying from each stop. This took a great deal of time and zeal and disguises, for each time I followed a truck, I would alter my appearance in some way. In some obvious way, so that the drivers, when talking amongst themselves, would not accidentally mention someone who resembled me. This untimely occurrence of course would have stopped the plan instantly in its first stages.
Let me digress to tell you that even now that you see me, I am disguised. I do not usually wear glasses as I do now, and I do not have quite so aquiline a nose. These clothes are not quite to my taste and are rather shabby to be sure. And when I walk, I shall walk with a limp and a cane, neither of which I rely upon in my ordinary gait. Nevertheless, whenever I followed a truck, I would disguise myself by donning something, or using something, that was quite conspicuous, determining, that if this one thing was conspicuous, then the rest of what I had with me would be unnoticed. On some occasions, I wore a ridiculous and big red hat, on others I stuffed my jacket with a pillow to give me the effect of a deformed hunchback. On another occasion I rode a bike with knicker bockers on; this was an ordeal, because I had to ride my bike to keep up with the truck, which was quite tiring. Once I even acted the part of a blind man, with my Russian wolfhound Marunata playing the part of the guide dog. To proceed; after a series of disguises and sorties, I decided that the Bank of the Manufacturers Trust Company might be perfect. Are you familiar with the branch of this bank that is on 18th Street and Fourth Avenue? Oh, no. Well, it's a bank; and what more is there to say. One day, very inconspicuously, I opened a bank account there under the name of Maurice Seigal, ⦠not a very original name, but then, not a very original fellow, this Seigal, ⦠rather dirty and unshaven with a definite foreign accent and smell of garlic, ⦠but he was useful in determining how the guards from the armored car entered the bank and how they removed the money, their hands grasping rather perfunctorily the handle of their weapons in their holsters, feeling rather like western sheriffs, and playing their parts to the hilt, their eyes darting from side to side of their eye sockets as they walked to the door, and out to the truck where another guard was standing, his hand on his pistol, watching the crowds in the streets, ⦠and especially a rather delightful young girl with the most exquisite and undulating ⦠ah well, ⦠even these guards had not bad taste, ⦠but is it taste that makes one realize that the obviously magnificent is magnificent? At any rate, ⦠the guards put the money in the truck and would drive away, ⦠and it was as simple as that. Life is rather simple when one brushes aside the filigree of nonsense that surrounds it ⦠The truck would after it left the bank, travel down to the East River Drive, ⦠taking approximately three minutes to get to the highway. There is no worry of the guards stopping for coffee or hot dogs on this trip, ⦠which is an occurrence I have had to sit through almost as many times as I followed those trucks. But with the money in the truck it was forbidden to stop. So this of course was very convenient and opportune to note precisely the time it took for the truck to get to the highway, since the route had to be direct and constant. Now I digress again for the sake of clarity. I determined which truck would carry the most money by the amount they took out of the bank in their cloth bags, ⦠and of course the locations of the bank, not only in reference to its physical locale, which could either hamper or assist my plan, but also with the thought of people and business surrounding it that would use the bank facilities. I deemed it prudent to find a highly commercial area, but not so intense a commercial area as to be either crowded with people or to be so efficient as to use too many checks and nonnegotiable securities. Approximating as best I could, which method had always been quite accurate, I found that this particular bank handled nice, tidy sums of currency and each Thursday they transferred three hundred thousand dollars to another bank in the downtown area. I would have actually thought seriously of tampering with this other bank, but it was impossible to calculate when the truck would arrive since trafficâis almost overpowering at all times, and the truck mightâbecome stuck in traffic and ruin all my plans. You'll see clearly in a moment exactly why precise timing was so important in this little plan of mine. Hmm, ⦠to wait a few more minutes. I shall have to get out of this car in approximately two minutes and start fixing a flat on the rear tire of this car. You'll notice the car is already tilted at an angle, ⦠I have already jacked the rear end, just to save time. That's how I'm going to stop the tow truck, you see. An old man, an old crippled man, begging for assistance, ⦠how could these kindly truck drivers refuse ⦠their conscience would bother them for months. Well, perhaps we can conceive of a driver who would pass an old man mercilessly, ⦠but not easily when the old man is standing directly in front of the tow truck. He'd have to run him down, ⦠an old crippled man. Notice also that this thoroughfare is only large enough for one truck or car to pass through, ⦠now that I have this disabled car I'm sitting in blocking half the road. What purpose stopping the tow truck? Well, when I stop them, or rather when this decrepit creature stops them and walks around to the driver's side, leaning on the truck constantly for support so that they cannot drive away, when I, I mean he, moves to the side, ⦠when he moves to the side, he will ask in very supplicating, oh most compassionate tones, that the driver should assist him. I won't print what our driver might say here, for it might be somewhat offensive to delicate eyes, ⦠but, in a less bleeding tone, I will, after leaping on the running board, and pressing this small but very effective revolver in his direction ⦠Oh he'll be alone, ⦠he and the tow truck, ⦠and me, of course. Forgive me if I dawdle a bit as I go through this, but I am thinking and rechecking as I explain to you, considering all the remote possibilities. Do you recall what I told you about not having to recheck my path. It's true. I doubt I have made any errors or mistakes, ⦠but this same restless brain that drives me in quest of adventure also insists incessantly that it be active, ⦠and therefore I consider again the plot since it would be inappropriate right now to be thinking of anything else but the tow truck and the armored car which is now stuck on the road somewhere up ahead. Oh yes, ⦠I'm sure the van is stopped somewhere ahead on the highway, feeling very safe in the open sunniness of the roadway, with cars streaming by quickly, whooshing air behind them, and men laughing and smiling mockingly, in the vicious way men have, ⦠and they say to each other, “boy, some guys could come over here with guns and they'd be sitting ducks in that truck”, ⦠they only contemplate this jokingly, for they would not be so timorous as to attack that truck, not with the drivers sealed in behind a bullet-proof enclosure, guns in their holsters, and a rifle on the wall, ⦠further, the openness makes it even riskier, ⦠for the police will be driving past often, ⦠the police may even stop and ask if the guards need help, ⦠and they'll reply no, the repair truck is on the way, ⦠and the police will drive away, ⦠or even if they stay there, it won't matter to the repairman as he fixes the truck. It will certainly add to the protectedness and the comfortableness of the driver and guards in the armored car. Now you understand that I know all of these things because I have foreordained the paths of all my pawns. Were you here early this morning during the slumber hours, ⦠approximately one-thirty in the morning. Well unfortunately, very, very unfortunately, there was a nasty accident in front of the Allied Armored Car Corporation. Two cars collided, when one car turned and crossed over the path of the other car. It was quite an accident, ⦠and thank goodness no one was hurt. They were old cars, ⦠about as old as this one, so there was no great loss ⦠but it certainly did stir up no little excitement in front of the garage. The night watchman, good soul, called the police. How fortunate for the drivers of those cars, one of which actually turned over, ⦠that they were in front of a place from which they could make a phone call. At that dreary hour of the morning in this deserted area there are not very many people about, ⦠nor are there many phones available. Nevertheless there was a great deal of noise and confusion, ⦠and the night watchman, good fellow that I said he is, was hopping about, helping the two drivers out of the wrecks, ⦠and in the midst of this pandemonium it was not very difficult for me to slip unnoticed inside the garage. You see the accident was not really an accident and it was not unfortunate for my purpose. It certainly looked like an accident though. I had bought the cars, and had found two young men in a bar, ⦠two not so bright, but very avaricious young men in a bar, and hired them to stage an accident for the sake of tests which the Consolidated Insurance Company was making. We, ⦠we the insurance company, that is, wanted to check on the visibility, and the ability to stop, and the force of impact, and the damage to car and driver and all sorts of nonsensical and sundry other data which I used to persuade my gloriously greedy youth that this was very important and necessary investigation. I assured them that the cars were well enforced with roll bars on the inside, ⦠which are steel bars that brace the top of the car to absorb the shock of impact as the car turns over. And I further assured them that an additional hundred dollars apiece, additional to the other hundred dollars apiece I had already pressed into their absorbing hands, would be theirs if they would cooperate in this humanitarian cause. They said, “Certainly Mr. Malone”, ⦠and a very respectable Mr. Malone I was, an insurance agent, clothed in a conservative suit and hat, and dark rimmed glasses and a large profuse moustache. I escorted my collaborators to the warehouse, ⦠the one right over there, where I had the two cars parked. I had bought these cars separately, at two very different and very separated junk dealers, with two different disguises, and I had the protective steel added in at two very different and also very separated welding shops, with two additional disguises. It's not really that difficult to disguise a mechanic in a coverall with grease smeared on his face. One had a cap, and one glasses, and one a brush moustache, and one a cigar and a most disgusting habit of spitting punctuating, ⦠so much so that the man in the welding shop told him to refrain from his expectoration, ⦠he used different wording of course, but it approximated the meaning. So here were the cars and the night and the spot and the plan and the drivers. The drivers would be able to distinguish each other by little red lights that I had mounted behind the grill of each car, ⦠so as they rode at each other from opposite directions on the street, they would be sure not to become involved with any interloping other car. I told one, ⦠a red-headed fellow, to turn up Cornelia Street, ⦠that's the side street that immediately skirts the Allied garage, ⦠and I told the other fellow to drive right into the side of the turning car. I was to be at the scene, camera in hand, to record with pictures our results, and to write reports. The anxious youth were quite thrilled and happy and impatient, since no one had ever asked them to go out and wreck a car purposely, ⦠and pay them two hundred dollars besides. Their pleasure was imposing ⦠they were very happy to be of service to such a worthy cause. About another minute and a half I should say and the tow truck will be upon me. Now let me see, ⦠ah yes, ⦠these two cars were driven rapidly and were smashed into each other, ⦠and the din was deafening, the roar resounding, ⦠and the night watchman jumped in fright and ran to the street, which of course was my cue to enter the garage. Very quickly I went into the small office which was used by the dispatcher during the day and the night watchman at night and from which he had just run. Smoke was still rising from a cup filled with coffee. There was a time clock on a counter which was used to punch the time on index cards made up as record for each truck. This Allied Corporation is a very efficient corporation to be sure, ⦠so efficient, that they knew always where their tucks were, and what time they should be back, and which truck was at which bank, and all sorts of information that was most helpful, and soon to be detrimental, to them. They were even so efficient as to have the cards already made out for the following day, with the number of the truck that was to be at each particular pick-up designation. This was of course so the mechanic during the day, could check over each truck when it came in from its daily run, and insure that nothing would go wrong with it the next day, ⦠because, though the trucks were unassailable, it wasn't good policy to let them break down on the streets.