Public Enemies_ America's Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI - Bryan Burrough [225]
When Zarkovich was finished, Purvis stepped forward. He wore a single-breasted blue jacket, white slacks, and a straw boater.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “you all know the character of John Dillinger. If he appears at either of the picture shows and we locate him and he effects his escape, it will be a disgrace to our Bureau. It may be that Dillinger will be at the picture show with his woman companions without arms—yet, he may appear there armed and with other members of his gang. There of course will be an undetermined element of danger in endeavoring to apprehend Dillinger. It is the desire that he be taken alive, if possible, and without injury to any agent of the Bureau. Yet, gentlemen, this is the opportunity we have all been awaiting, and he must be taken. Do not unnecessarily endanger your own lives and if Dillinger offers any resistance each man will be for himself and it will be up to each of you to do whatever you think necessary to protect yourself in taking Dillinger.”
They went over the plan in the event Dillinger appeared. Five men were selected to make up the party that would physically apprehend him. Purvis was to lead this group. His two best gunmen, Charles Winstead and Clarence Hurt, would assist. Two East Chicago cops, Glen Stretch and Peter Sopsic, would complete the group. Purvis said he would stand outside the box office—at whichever theater Dillinger appeared—and keep watch. When Dillinger appeared, he would give the signal to move in by lighting a cigar. If Dillinger should elude these five men, Purvis said, the rest of the agents should do as they saw fit.
“What type of guns shall we take?” someone asked.
“Your pistols only,” Purvis said.
When the meeting broke up, Purvis took Agent Ralph Brown and drove to the Biograph. Cowley stayed behind to coordinate; Purvis promised to phone every five minutes. Zarkovich and Agent Winstead were sent to the Marbro. Sage’s inability to pinpoint a theater meant they wouldn’t be able to assemble in force until after Dillinger appeared—if he appeared. They would have to take him when the movie let out.
Purvis and Brown pulled up in front of the Biograph at 7:37. Brown stood by the car while Purvis walked up to the box office. The movie that night was Manhattan Melodrama, a gangster film starring Clark Gable and William Powell. The next showing was at 8:30. Purvis returned to the car and slid in next to Brown.
It was hot. Sitting in the car, shifting nervously in his seat, Purvis yearned to swing his gaze up and down the street, but was afraid he might be noticed; instead he willed himself to sit still, scanning those passing beside him on the sidewalk.13 By 8:15 people had already begun filing into the theater. Every five minutes, Brown jogged to a bar down the street and used a pay phone to check in with Cowley.
If Sage had done as she promised and left her apartment at eight, Dillinger would appear at any moment. Five minutes went by, then ten, then fifteen. There was no sign of Dillinger. Across town at the Marbro, Winstead and Zarkovich stood uneasily in front of the theater, waiting, watching. In Washington, Hoover sat in the library of his home, fielding updates every few minutes from Cowley. Between calls, Cowley paced. Out in the bullpen, agents checked and rechecked their weapons. No one had much to say.
Something was wrong. Purvis could feel it. By 8:25 he was beginning to feel the whole weekend had been wasted: another sweaty night, another deluded informant, another long week ahead. This was stupid. They never should have trusted the East Chicago police.
Then, at 8:36, Purvis glanced to his side and saw two women and a man walk by on the sidewalk. To his amazement, he realized that it was Ana Sage, a