The wheels were beginning to turn. From all parts of thecountry quiet, tough men slipped into the small southern coastaltown and took up the
nal vigil.There was the arsonist, the safe blower, the boy-facedkiller, there was a regiment of crack, lawless men waiting out theminutes until Saturday night—the night the town would explodeinto violence.For in the center of town sat the bank—a citadel of twelvemillion dollars, impregnable as Gibraltar, safe as a church.Safe
until precisely ten-
fteen on Saturday night. Until thewheels began to pick up momentum, and suddenly a
re lit the sky,and the power went off all over town and under way went the king-sized knockover.The grand slam.The Big Caper.