Doug MacRay

Driver's name is Arthur Shea. Former Metro Police officer, fifty-seven years old. Soon as his partner leaves with the coal bag, Artie cracks a Herald, and he don't look up 'til the guy gets back. Marty Maguire. Cummins Armored courier. Five-ten, two-twenty, fifty-two years old. Picks up every Wednesday and Friday at exactly 8:12, makes a hundred and ten dollars a day, carries a Sig nine. And he's about to get robbed.

We're fucked if we see a helicopter, we're fucked if we see SWAT. We see a cruiser, stop, take out the engine blocks, keep movin'. No one needs to get hurt.

Who the fuck do you think you are? You're gonna let me or not let me do shit. Here's a little fucking cheat sheet for you. Its never gonna be me and you and your sister and Shyne playing house up there. You got it? Get that in your fucking head! I'm tired of your fucking one way bullshit. You wanna see me again? You can come visit me down in Florida.

Don't get up… How you doing Fergie? Listen, uh, I wanted to stop by and tell you myself. Whatever this thing is you got going on, uh, I think my guys can handle it without me.

Alright. Ok. Let me ask you something: Who the fuck you think you are? The only guy in Charlestown with a gun? You guys run numbers and pump dope. You're an old guy with a fucked up face so all those glory years are behind you. I ain't fucking working for you. Got it? If you got a problem with that, I live at 551 Bunker Hill st. Stop by any time. You know where to find me.

I need your help. I can't tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we're gonna hurt some people.

No matter how much you change, you still have to pay the price for the things you've done. So I got a long road. But I know I'll see you again - this side or the other.

Not the way I planned it, but for the first time in my life, I'm leaving this city. Maybe if I go, I can stop looking.

You tell the FBI. If the guy's got a record, and I'm sure he does, they'll have his tattoos on file. They'll ring him up the next day. Robbery, weapons, he'll get thirty years. Of course he'll worry someone's gonna come looking for the witness. FBI will probabaly want to put you in a WitSec, you know, witness security. You know, he'll probably put you somewhere, like you know in uh… Cleveland or Arizona. You know, somewhere safe. Or… you could wait. You have a card, there's nothin' says you gotta play it right away. You're the one who's vulnerable in this situation right now. The FBI are just people, like anyone else who want to find the bad guy so that they can go home and do their supper. You have to look out for yourself, Claire.

Not really. Just watch a lot of TV. I watch a lot of CSI. So I'm a really big expert on all this. I know. And Miami CSI and New York CSI. All the… all of them I have watched.

Hey, next time you guys wanna take pictures of me, just call ahead. You know, we can do better than a barbecue. A calender shoot… you know, maybe topless, lubed up. Whatever you guys are into. The FBI car antenna's are half inch matte black about three quarters way down the rear windshield. Statie a pigtail, BPD half and half. Every pewee in town knows what an FBI rear antenna looks like. So in the future you guys need try to be slick, be slicker than a six year old. I gotta get back to work. Can I go?

Good luck with that print.

Alright. I'm in. But if anything happens to her, if I think anything might happen to her… I'm gonna come back here, and I'm gonna kill both of you in your own shop.

In the cash room. Arnold Washton! You live at 311 Hazer Street in Quincy, with a wife named Linda and three small dogs. Do not make a distress call. Also in the cash room, Morton Previt. You live at 27 Counting Lane, Randolph. Wife also Linda. Morton, the Lindas want you to open this door. We have men outside your homes.