CHAPTER 15At five-thirty it began to rain. By six the rain was a steady downpour and it was cold, even inside Joe Briggs’s tight, late-model Chevy. He was a good driver, but I had begun to clench my fists from time to time against the fear we might make Big Danny’s store too late.
Then at six-fifteen we cut through the warehouse alley and Danny’s big lights blinked on and off at us dead ahead. I told Joe how to make the turns. The street was busy and this took some time, and also provided cover.
“You have any kind of insignia on this thing?” I asked.
“No,” Joe said. “It’s all mine.”
We turned right onto the side street and drifted past the alley that led to the rear of the Big Store. Joe went on some thirty yards and pulled to the curb. I got out, turned up my coat collar and slogged b
