"I'm not quite sure yet. Chicago, or New York, or Pittsburgh, or.... This is the master plan. I've almost finished. It involves the principals--the method of operation. There is much more to be done of course. Assistants will have to be approached, analyzed mathematically as to capabilities--" "How much money are you thinking of stealing?" "I figure I'll need about five million," Dalrymple said calmly. Donovan and I looked at each other again and our eyes asked the questions. What should we do about this? Haul the guy in and get laughed at? Or did we have a right to haul him in if we wanted to? Just call him a crackpot and let it go at that? Sure. It was the obvious thing to do. And the easiest. Why stick our necks out. And at that moment I saw Dalrymple smile ever so slightly as though he knew exactly what was going on in our minds--had made allowances for it on his damned chart. Donovan shrugged. "Let's get away from this creep," he said. We turned and walked out. * * * * * And we never saw Dalrymple again. In fact I'd practically forgotten about him, when a year later--the date was January 17, 1951--I came back to the squad-room late in the afternoon and there was a paper lying on the desk Donovan and I used. Its headline read: STICKUP MEN GET SEVEN MILLION IN BOSTON And the story went on to tell of the now famous Brinks holdup in that city; a holdup that had not been solved to this day; a seemingly perfect crime. Still nothing for me to get excited about. Not until I saw the letter that had been lying under the paper. It was addressed to both Donovan and me--the names and destination printed in lead pencil. There was no return address. I tore it open. A white card fell out. On the card was printed two words--nothing else. The words read: --OR BOSTON. * * * * * So that's where we sit now. Almost seven years ago that stickup occurred. For seven years Donovan and I had waited for the law to crack it so we could quit wondering; so we could tell ourselves that Dalrymple was just another screwball. But the statute of limitations nearly ran out on the great Brinks robbery and now we're beginning to wonder if it really was solved. Wondering if we could have stopped it by stopping Dalrymple, the brain behind it all. Wondering if he really was a man from another--oh hell! It just couldn't be! Or could it?