front of the feds’ own office building.”
Jesus.
“Last time we tried something in the Loop we damn near got our asses shot off,” Barker was saying.
“That’s not fair, Doc,” Karpis said. “If we hadn’t got in that accident, we’d been in the clear.”
“Bull
“The basic plan was sound, Doc. We can make it work this time.”
“You’re going to use the
Karpis smiled a mildly embarrassed version of his ghastly smile. “Well, yes, sort of, as a stepping-off point anyway—the Banker’s Building is right across from the post office, where we made the other hit. Direct across. We can build on that same plan, and learn from our mistakes.”
Doc was shaking his head. “Learn from our mistakes? What you should learn from that post-office flop is not to pull jobs in the Loop. City jobs are a bitch in general. Now, in the country, shit, you can hit a place, drive like hell, know your back roads and you’re home free. But in the city, fuck.”
Karpis was getting worried. “Come on, Doc, keep an open mind….”
“You got traffic to deal with, cops on every block, one call and the word’s out to hundreds of radio cars…shit. And a plan that went bust one other time. Creepy, I’m surprised at you.”
Nelson said, “Doc, you knew what this was about coming in—why bitch now?”
Doc said, “I’m all for snatching Hoover. Its a sweet way to get even and get rich. Understood? But why not snatch him at the track—he likes the ponies, you know—or at the train station, when he comes to town, or leaves.”
Karpis said, “Those are city jobs, too, Doc.”
“Yeah, sure, but they’re easier to deal with than the goddamn heart o’ the
“Doc,” Nelson said, an edge in his voice. “Why don’t you let Karpis lay it out for us?”
Karpis laid it out.
He pointed to the map as he spoke, using a grease pencil to trace various routes.
They had inside word that Hoover was coming in tomorrow morning to spend a day at the Division of Investigation’s Chicago bureau, giving the boys in the trenches pep talks and confabbing with Purvis and Cowley. Of more interest to Karpis, however, was Hoover’s evening dinner date with State Attorney Courtney and the Chicago police commissioner. This was a pass-the-peace-pipe powwow initiated by Hoover, seeking to build more cooperation between the feds and the local cops; my guess was the state attorney and the police commissioner were going along with the meeting in order to ask for Purvis’ ouster. The cops had covered the feds’ trail any number of times (the Probasco “suicide” fall, for one thing) and all they’d got in return was bad-mouthing in the press by self-aggrandizing Little Mel. So a meeting was in order.
None of this was anything Karpis went into; these were simply thoughts that flitted through my brain as he stated that Hoover was planning dinner with Courtney and the commissioner at seven o’clock at the Bismarck Hotel. Shortly before seven, a car from the state attorney’s office was to pick up Hoover at the Banker’s Building and escort him to the Bismarck.
“Where’d you get that kind of inside dope?” a smiling Nelson asked.
Karpis smiled his awful smile. “Friends in high places,” he said, and let it go at that.
My guess was attorney Louis Piquett had sniffed this piece of news out; he had plenty of lines into Courtney’s office.
Karpis’ basic plan was simple if cunning. The state attorney’s car was distinctively decorated: a black Hudson with one red and one green headlight, and a red star on the spotlight. Karpis had arranged with “our favorite underworld garage, in Cicero” to have another Hudson similarly decorated—and, in addition to police siren, equipped with such accessories as bulletproofing, shortwave radio and a sliding panel in the doors through which guns could be fired.
Karpis planned to have this car pick up Hoover.
The real state attorney’s car, in a city parking garage near City Hall, would have a convenient flat tire, delaying the Hoover pickup a few minutes—long enough for the ringer to make the pickup instead.
Karpis was drawing on the map, saying, “If the pickup goes smooth, our Hudson just continues on down Clark to Jackson and turns west—like we were heading back to the Bismarck. After that we switch cars.”
Nelson said, “We’ll have a extra car stashed? Where?”
“In a loading dock in this alley,” Karpis said, pointing to the map. “It’s after work; deserted. We stuff Hoover in the trunk of the second car, and drive away, nice and easy.”
Doc said, “Fine and dandy, if the snatch goes smooth. What if it’s queered at the scene? What if some fed recognizes somebody, or wants to look at ID, or they send a different car? What if the shit hits the fan, right there in front of the Banker’s Building?”
Karpis just smiled patiently through all this. He said, “We got all that covered. There’ll be a backup car with extra firepower parked across the way, in front of the Edison Building—on Adams, kiddy-corner from the Banker’s Building. If shooting starts, they cover the escape by opening fire from another direction. And if the snatch goes smooth, they cruise down Adams—dumping tacks behind ’em like bread crumbs, making flat tires and jamming traffic. At LaSalle, the backup car’ll head north, dropping more tacks, to throw the laws off the trail—and ditch their car and switch in an alley off Franklin and Monroe to a new car. And drive away.”
Doc was smirking, skeptical as hell. “All of this in the Loop. Creepy, you’re dreaming.”
Karpis said, “No, Doc—you’re sleeping.
