CHAPTER 1

Obviously crime pays orthere'd be no crime.

G. Gordon Liddy

Current Weather or current METAR: KLEX

1203KT 1/4SM -RA OVC02 20/19 A29.89 orin plain language:

Winds are 120 degrees at 3KTS, only ¼SM (statute mile) of visibility, lightrain, overcast sky at only 200 feetabove the ground, temperature is 20C,dew point 19, and the area altimetersetting is 29.89.

Lexington, Kentucky

A cool mist greets the earlymorning fog which has settled into thearea of the upper Midwest acrossKentucky and Tennessee. The air evensmells thick and wet. The outsidevisibility can't be more than a fewhundred feet in some spots and no morethan a quarter mile at its best. Themorning dew sticks to the front windowsof this particular small local branchbank which just opened at 10 a.m. localtime. Inside the lobby area is a tallman in a US Army full dress uniformincluding the standard issue hat,standing at a bank teller's windowconducting some type of transaction. Hesports a big bushy mustache, a goateeand mirrored sunglasses ... a gooddisguise, a clever disguise.

Because it is right after 10 am,he happens to be the first and onlycustomer to pass through the door thismorning. This is a quaint little bankin a quiet and peaceful town.

Being number one, the firstcustomer in the doors today was not anaccident. This was planned out and bychoice. Behind the teller we canplainly see the name of the bank, FirstUnion Bank, Westside Branch, Lexington,Kentucky. These two people are havingsome sort of conversation ... or so itseems.

In a pleasant, soft voice the manspeaks, "Come on, come on, come on.Please, hurry up, hurry up ... goodgirl." Ms. Smith, the lone teller,sniffling, almost crying, pleads, "I'mtrying ... I'm scared, damn it!"

This tall man, Tom, speaks in asoothing voice, "It'll be all right.Please do as I only ask and no one willget" ... he catches himself, making surenot to say the wrong word, somethreatening word or phrase.

The clerk, Ms. Smith, generally anextremely calm lady, fumbles the moneya bit, but somehow starts to hand overthe lots of wrapped cash. As the lastbundle of the cash is exchanged, Tomsays, "OK, now this is good."

He caresses her hands in his andin doing the deed—in a flash—producesa short strip of duct tape and a smallgreen 4"x4" little gift box; hesoothingly tapes her hands around thetop of the box and down to the blackcounter top.

Next in a peaceful soft voice hecontinues.

"Now, now ... if you stay calm andkeep this little box pinned down to thecounter for the next five minutes youcan lift up your hands" ... looking outthrough his sunglasses–

"If you want to," he said.

Spinning smartly on his heels, heturns back ... smiles, completes histurn, and exits the bank. Two or threesteps into the fog bank and as if magiche simply vanishes almost absorbed intothe thick, incredibly thick fog filledmorning air.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, in themiddle of downtown Las Vegas, a groupof people are having a splendid time ata casino known as Binion's Horseshoe.The casino is in the heart of downtownacross the street from the GoldenNugget Hotel and Casino. Both casinosare located on world famous FreemontStreet. Freemont Street is four coveredblocks of beautiful lights. Some twelvemillion tiny bulbs are switched on andoff by computer software creating themost fabulous light show on the planet.Some folks are playing slot machineswhile others try their hands at videopoker or real life poker. Still others,many others, are playing a fun littlegame called craps, A.K.A. dice.

Two red spinning dice fly throughthe air as the sound of a raging dicegame comes up to full volume. Allaround the area you can hear yelling,cheering, and hollering, as 25 or sopeople are crammed around one of theten felt covered craps tables having awonderful time. The overhead music isby crooner Dean Martin singingsomething about ...

"How lucky can one guy can beI kissed her and she kissed meLike the fellow once said,Ain't that a kick in the head?"

People are winning and winning bigthis evening. Looking around the tableare hundreds and even thousands ofdollars in play on the pass line;people are betting the six, the eight,nine, and ten. This day, thisparticular game, the House doesn't havethe edge. The gamers on the outside ofthe rail are being shined on by a lady—LadyLuck.

If you look closely, you canalmost tell who it is—Mr. Tom smokinga big cigar ... he's rolling the boneswithout his army officer's disguise.The aroma of this cigar is pleasant tothe people at the table. At a bit oversix feet tall, he still has a mustache,but the stache' is a carefully trimmedone, not the big bushy Italian loopingends kind of facial hair. His left handis resting on the wooden chip rail, andthe rail is full of green, black, andred chips. Here and there are severalsets of yellow and purple ones mixedin; they represent 500 and 1,000dollars each. The green ones are 25dollar chips, the black ones are worth100, and the red represent 5 Americandollars.

The next morning, in Binion'scoffee shop, two men are seated on theupper level by the counter and thefresh baked pie carousel. The mix ofbacon, grits, and eggs saturates themorning air. It seems to drown out thearoma of the fresh baked pies. Tom issitting in a booth talking to someone,another man, but it is hard to tell whothe other person is. They both have onlong sleeve white dress shirts andsimple black ties.

John, his partner in crime, asks,"Well ... How did you do?"

"I'd rather not say," comes backthe response.

"Lost a little or all?"In a soft, almost ashamed voice,he says, "Damn near."

"Well OK, did you get any sleep?"

"Uh ..."

"Well, huh? I was up close to$25,000, then the table went cold, Imean ice cold."

"Hell, I've never seen so manyseven-outs in my life ... I mean, it waslike someone turned off the winnerswitch and turned on the loser one."

John answers, "That's fine withme."

"... We'll be in Arkansas bymidnight and you can set something upwhen we get off of the plane."

CHAPTER 2

Forty-one days later, as the sunrises in the east, we see another dampdreary day. A light rain, in realitymore of a thick mist, fills the morningair. Today, the air smells or reallyjust stinks with a hint of pollution.Sort of an old smelly diesel bus smokekind of odor.

In another town at another smallbranch bank once again, we witness atall man, the same tall man as before,standing at a bank teller's window inwhat appears to be a fireman's dressuniform, complete with a hat,sunglasses, mustache—the entiredisguise ... conducting anothertransaction. Behind the teller, we canbarely distinguish a clock indicatingthe current time, right after 10:00 am,and the name of the bank. On the wallis a sign, Citizens Bank & Trust, Ft.Smith, Arkansas.

Tom speaks softly, but in a firmvoice.

"Come on, come on please, littlelady.

"Hurry up little one and noone ... nothing will happen, I promiseyou."

As the Teller is handing over thecash, the sweet mid-thirties bleachedblonde pleads, "Don't hurt me ... pleasedon't hurt me and you can have all themoney.

"I swear ... it's not mine it's thebank's."

Tom's reply is simply a soothing,

"There, there now."

He once again gently caresses...