Wettermark

So what about the bank?
It always came back to the bank, no matter how it started. He knew by heart everything he must do before and during and after, but thinking of it produced a faint nausea. It was one thing to read or write about a bank job and another thing to pull one, just as it is different to loll on the good solid ground and watch someone else climb a tower for a high dive.
But now it was Wettermark's turn. A small town reporter with a talent for trouble - now it was his turn on the high tower. It was all closing in fast - his job, his wife, and the money he owed. He couldn't avoid it, he couldn't stop it. It had to be the bank, there was no other way.
So you stand there all alone on the high tower looking down at the water and measuring it; but you can't truly measure because the water is sinking or the tower telescoping or both, and you hang on up there in the loud, crazy-loud blue silence, knowing precisely what you must do to keep from splitting your belly on the green-concrete water . . .


Genre: Mystery