The burly man said: “The hell I will.”

“Phone him, then,” the chief suggested.

The burly man growled: “That’s more like it,” and went away.

When he came back he looked completely satisfied.

“He says,” he reported, “ ‘Go to hell.’ ”

“Get the rest of the boys down here,” Noonan said cheerfully. “We’ll knock it over as soon as it gets light.”

The burly Nick and I went around with the chief while he made sure his men were properly placed. I didn’t think much of them⁠—a shabby, shifty-eyed crew without enthusiasm for the job ahead of them.

The sky became a faded gray. The chief, Nick, and I stopped in a plumber’s doorway diagonally across the street from our target.