In a darkened building in Boston's old North End, five men worked behind a wire screen, piling up plump sacks of U.S. currency with the mechanical indifference of butchers stacking daisy hams into a cooler. It was 7 o'clockÂtime for the Boston office of Brink's, Inc. to tot up the day's armored-truck collections and lock them in the vault for the night.
"All right, fellows," said a hoarse voice. "Stick 'em up and don't move." The men looked up to see the business ends of six short-nosed revolvers. Behind the guns were six...
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