10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 87: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Vengeance turns the tables ona.... Plunder Pact By Joseph Dennis NAPPER S LUND, sallow, bony face S alight with an ex- ultant smirk, stood on guard just inside the office door of the Harcross Sheet & Tube Company. The door was slightly ajar. Outside, at the end of a dark hallway, was slumped the figure of the night watchman. Snapper had cracked down on the man’s head with a heavy blackjack. Chuckling, Snapper kept his eyes peeled. So far, the job had been a cinch. From a room just off the main office came tiny sounds as educated and dexterous fingers swiftly souped the edge of the big steel safe, Snap- per Lund shifted his gun from one hand to the other and visualized the riotous life he would lead once he had seventy grand in his pocket. Everything had been planned to the last detail. For days Snapper Lund had haunted the vicinity of this great brick building, learning through vari- ous channels that the payroll of the Harcross Company always arrived at the office on the afternoon preceding payday, remained overnight in the custody of a night watchman. The fact that a copper from a protective asso- ciation also haunted the neighborhood was of little concern to Snapper. He had a gun and he was commanding the entrance to the office. If the cop- per showed up Snapper would let him have it. A block away in an alley a car was waiting, engine purring. Suddenly Snapper jerked his head around as a hoarse whisper cut the 85 silence. “It’s ready to blow, Snapper. Shut the door!’ “Okay,” Snapper grinned, “an’ it’s thunderin’ outside, too. Listen to it, Grubb. I even picked the weather.” Grubb grinned and shut the door behind him. Outside a driving rain be- gan to pelt down. Wind shrieked and rattled the window sashes. The sound of a muffled explosion beyond the door was dulled by a terrific detonation from the heavens. “That does it!” Grubb cracked and yanked the door open. Curls of acrid smoke seeped into the outer office. Snapper followed his accomplice in- side. He played his flash upon the ruin. The safe yawned open. Imme- diately avid fingers were clawing at a canvas bag on which were stenciled the letters FARMERS & MECHANICS BANK. “Come on, Grubb, we’re lammin’!”’ Snapper ripped out, “This is the works.” Grubb clutched Snapper’s arm as they hurried out into the musty corri- dor. “Remember, Snapper,” the safe- cracker snarled, ‘‘no shootin’. Nobody ever gets away with it.” “Shut. up!” Snapper countered, voice strident. “I’m handlin’ this job, Grubb. I got you in from St. Louis when.-I could’ve called in a dozen guys in this town.” “Oh, yeah?” Grubb flung back as they crouched momentarily in the doorway of the brick building. “You knew there wasn’t a better guy no place, Snapper Lund. There ain’t , nothin’ I don’t- knew about this rack- et,”’ com 1icbooks,.com