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By Root 2136 0

got his first glimpse of their suspect on the street below. She was five-feet-six, slender, and blonde, with a mole on her left cheek. It was Mathias. That afternoon Madala watched as a stream of children began filing into Mathias’s apartment. It took him a few minutes to realize that she was having a Halloween party. Then, at 4:30, Madala heard a commotion in the hallway outside. He stepped to the ventilation shutter and saw Bobbie Moore running down the corridor, hollering for Mathias, who stepped out of her apartment.

“He’s here, Vi, he’s here!” Moore enthused.

Standing at her apartment door, Mathias grew excited. “Where is he, Bobbie?” she asked. “Quick, tell me where is he?”

“He’s downstairs,” Moore said. “I told him you had a lot of children in your apartment and that you would be downstairs just as soon as you could get rid of your kids.”

“Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Vi said, disappearing back into her apartment.

Just then Madala saw a man round the corner from the elevators and enter the hallway. He had a sandy mustache and wore horned-rim glasses. Bobbie Moore ran to the man, threw her arms around him, and kissed him. Together they turned and walked back toward the elevators. Madala slid away from the ventilator opening.

It looked like Miller. Madala called the Bankers Building and briefed a senior agent, Ed Guinane. At 6:15, Guinane arrived to take charge of the situation. He arrayed groupings of agents and Chicago cops around the building. A half-dozen others clustered in Madala’s apartment. To make sure it really was Miller, Guinane brought along Doris Rogers, who had grown up in Huron, South Dakota, and seen Miller when he was a deputy sheriff there. Guinane positioned her at the ventilation shutter. When and if she saw Miller leave Mathias’s apartment, an agent alongside her was to make a chopping motion with his hand, the signal for the squad to rush into the hallway. Guinane told the men outside to watch his window. If Miller appeared, he would flap a jacket in the window as a signal.

An hour passed. A tap had been placed on Mathias’s phone, and at 7:30 an agent heard her call Bobbie Moore downstairs.

“Miss Moore?” Mathias asked.

“Speaking.”

“Verne wants you to put the Auburn [the car] away,” Mathias said, then hung up. It appeared Miller and Mathias were staying in for the night.

The call prompted a sharp debate among the agents assembled in Apartment 211. John Madala urged Guinane to immediately storm Mathias’s apartment. Guinane said no. They had to be certain it was Miller.

November 1

Dawn broke. On the streets outside, a new rotation of agents and policemen replaced the men who had kept watch through the chill night. In Apartment 211 agents took turns grabbing naps in the bedroom. At midmorning, when there was still no sign of Miller, Agent Edward Notesteen arrived from St. Paul.aq He, too, had known Miller in South Dakota. Guinane posted him in the kitchenette, taking shifts with Doris Rogers.

Hours passed. By noon no one had seen the suspects. At midafternoon Guinane called the Bankers Building to ask what to do. A call was placed to Hoover in Washington; Hoover ordered them to stay put until Miller was firmly identified. The afternoon stretched on. Finally, at 8:15 that night, Mathias called Bobbie Moore and asked her to bring a car around to the building’s side entrance.

Inside Apartment 211, the tension level rose sharply. Agent Notesteen, who had been napping and was clad only in socks and shorts, returned to his position in the kitchenette. A half-dozen agents and Chicago cops stood nervously at the apartment door, waiting to pounce. Outside, two agents in a parked car watched Bobbie Moore retrieve an Auburn car from a parking garage and pull up beside the Sherone’s side entrance. She began honking its horn.

Just then a man and a woman stepped out of Mathias’s apartment. Agent Notesteen and Doris Rogers saw them. The woman, in green silk pajamas, was Mathias. The man had a snap-brimmed fedora pulled low over his forehead.

“That’s Miller,” Rogers whispered. “I know