Coming soon - what happened after June 11, 1962
An excerpt from chapter two:
“I was on the pier walking alongside my contact guy, hand on the .38 semi-auto in my overcoat pocket. It was dark - the only light was a dim bulb hanging over the doorway of a boathouse off to our left. Fifty feet behind us our driver in the car had the engine running and the lights off. Coming out of a boat from the far end of the pier two spades appeared half carrying and half walking a white guy between them. One of the spades had his hand in his overcoat pocket. I kept an eye on him. My contact handed the guy closest to him an envelope which he opened, examined for a few seconds, pocketed, and without a word both walked back to their waiting boat. The wet guy walked and fell into my contact. He grabbed hold of the guy and we left walking towards our waiting car. As we walked away the spade with the hand in his pocket kept looking back keeping an eye on us. I know because as we walked back to our car I kept an eye on him.
My contact shoved the guy into the back seat, sat next to him, shut the door, and said, "Okay. Let's get the fuck out of here." I rode shotgun, heater in hand. The guy we picked up was sopping wet, shaking, and freezing. Our driver took it nice and slow back to the Tenderloin. Sopping Wet began undressing and drying himself off with towels from a bag in the back seat. He changed into fresh dry clothes as best as he could. He was in bad shape, coughing and freezing. I knew this wasn’t a snatch job, I knew we were taking care of this guy. I didn't think any more about it - my job was to make sure nothing happened. I didn’t know who he was and I didn’t care as long as I got my money."