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Show page 202 and his cohorts made big money, threw it away as fast as they made it, on floozies, champagne, anything the natives had to sell. As the war rolled on the gang took a final, fatal step, began hijacking trucks of convoys from the docks. "That was a bad thing," Thompson said, looking at McFall steadily. McFall agreed. "CID agents were on to you fairly soon, I'd say," Thompson said. "A fellow named Walter made all our plans," said McFall. "I just drove the truck I had stolen. One day Walter says, 'We'll drive north tonight, hit'em at the second road junction on the main highway where they cross the narrow bridge.' We were loafing around the bar in our hotel. The owner, who bought most of our stuff, clapped us on the back. 'Chicago, USA,' he said. 'Bang, bang, finish MPs.' I'll never forget that night. We stood in a parking lot awhile, waiting. Everything was blacked out, like a moonless night around Caudolia, my home town. Walter checks his watch and says, 'Nine-thirty, boys,' and way off in the distance I hear a low rumble, the night convoy getting started. Nothing on wheels can outrun those night convoys." "Hurrying stuff to the front," said Thompson. "Hurrying is right," said KcFall. "By the time we got situated the first six-by is coming along, fast. I let Walter and two of the others off at the bridge where the trucks had to slow. At the junction I pulled off to one side and me and the two other joes hopped out and made like we're changing a tire. The idea is to wait, be ready to move out when the last truck |