《钱在哪儿》(Where the Money Was)翻译第155-156页
在几个月里，我们挑出一些容易下手的（银行），在 Ambler的小银行，一个靠近 Doylestown,，一个靠近Allentown。
在费城也有个银行，本来应该很好下手的，却搞砸了。这让我非常恼火。在这座城市的时候，我确认那家银行的的确确就是我要找的银行。坐落在靠近市场第六十街的Corn Exchange银行。（和纽约的Corn Exchange银行没有关系，这家银行几个月后才被我们成功打劫。）
在早上上下班的时间里，第六十街是这个城市西北区的终点站和换乘站。双层巴士从各方面蜂拥而至，在市场和六十街的高架车站上，乘客数量众多。虽然在街角有个交通警察执勤，太多的巴士开过来，一辆接一辆堆积在一起，还有乘客下车后在路上行走，这进一步堵塞了路口。整个区域充满了各式各样的活动。
让事情更加完美的是银行的入口被前厅的设置完全挡住了。换句话说，在你进入银行的两个巨大的铜门时，你必须推开一对防风雨的门，门的底部是金属，只有上面有一些玻璃。
我进去银行，将一张大面额钞票换成小面值零钱的时候，对形势做了全面审视，这对我来说实在是太棒了。空间很大，所以有个夹层，很多出纳员，不少顾客。巨大的保险库在后面，人可以走进去，厚厚的门开着，排列着保险箱。
这时候，我的踩点就结束了，我完美的完成了这项事情。员工的时刻表，交通状况，街角处的警察。我打电话要威尔逊从纽约过来，他同意我们不需要佩兰戈（Perlango）就能完成。
第二天早晨我穿着邮政制服来到街区，威尔逊直接穿过街道来到车站。守卫来到门前花了好几分钟。很显然，他在下楼。我等待的这段时间里，公交车从高架车站一直排到银行这里。
当守卫最终把门打开时，我告诉他我有一封特快专递，并且使用往常一样的技巧。我交到他手上一本书，一封信，这些占据了他的两只手，这时我挤进去并且把身后的门关上。整个过程花了不到几秒钟，在我推门进去的关键时刻，一个从巴士车上下来的女士刚好在一个最好的位置，透过防风门的玻璃看到了我的动作。
幸运的是，威尔逊看到了这一切。看到了她脸上明确的表情，看到她快速的走向街角处的警察，看到他们走回来。
我已经解除了守卫的武装，突然，警铃响了。除了手枪外，守卫还有个非常特别的橡皮警棍，上面还有个催泪弹。想法似乎是当他击打你的头部的时候，顺便释放瓦斯气体彻底摧毁你。当威尔逊告诉我的时候，我无法相信我们被发现了；他不得不和我争吵起来。我对这个放风的家伙说了几句小心的话后，砰的一声关上防风门出去，穿过一条小巷来到后街我们停车的地方。
我无法描述我有多沮丧。那些没有成功的事情总是盘旋在你的脑海挥之不去，因为那些成功的案例很快成为常规，没有多久后就在记忆中变得模糊了。这些年来，我打劫了近一百家银行，记得最清楚的是我失败的那四个。在（Ozone Park）国家银行我把钱箱丢下了，在（ National City）国家城市银行那个小孩跑了，在（ Brooklyn）布鲁克林银行Egen没有按时出现。还有这个费城的（ Corn Exchange）银行。
还有一次和布赛特（Bassett）在巴法络郊外，当守卫开门的时候，警铃意外地响了起来。但是这还不算什么。？"我正在检查警铃，"我告诉被吓坏的守卫。我严厉地说，近期我们有很多这样的事情，（警察）副巡长想让人知道，他没有足够的人力去追查每一个有缺陷的警铃。
第二天早上我又回到银行。"你看，"那个守卫说，"现在一切正常。"
"确实如此，"我说，亮出我的枪给他看。"让我们看看这次能否做对。你不会让我在这个镇里再过一夜吧？"
当我在（Corn Exchange）银行花了这么多时间后（还是没有成功），我痛恨不已。"在这呆一会，"我告诉威尔逊。"我要再看一下。"第二天早晨，我回去看银行会采取什么保安措施。看到的情况真让我高兴。所有的员工都拿到一把外面门的钥匙，当他们进来时，会将门锁上，然后按响门铃。天啦，我对自己说。他们这是要将自己困在前厅里。当守卫为他们打开门后，即使他们看到我站在里面，他们也不可能跑到街上去报警。
原文
155-156
Within a few months we picked a couple of soft touches. A small bank in Ambler, one near Doylestown, and another near Allentown.
There had also been a bank in Philadelphia that should have been a soft touch, and wasn’t. And how that one galled me. In cruising around the city, I had been sure I had found exactly the bank I was looking for. The Corn Exchange Bank up on Sixtieth Street near Market. (No relation to the Corn Exchange Bank in New York, which actually didn’t come off until a few months later.)
During the morning commuter hours, Sixtieth Street was a kind of terminal point and transfer station for the entire northwestern section of the city. The big two-decker buses came streaming in from every direction to disgorge their passengers at the elevated station on Market and Sixtieth. Although there was a traffic officer stationed on the corner, the buses came in so fast that they would pile up, one in back of the other, and there were always people getting off to walk, which choked the approaches up even further. The whole area was positively teeming with activity.
What made it absolutely perfect was that the entrance to the bank was pretty much masked by a vestibule arrangement. In other words, before you got to the two enormous bronze doors of the bank itself, you had to push through a pair of storm doors which were metal on the bottom and glass only at the top.
I went in there and gave the place a thorough scanning while I was changing a large bill into smaller denominations, and it looked very good to me. Large enough to have a mezzanine, plenty of tellers, quite a few customers. The enormous walk-in vault in the rear, its thick door open, was lined with safe-deposit boxes.
By the time I was through casing it, I had it all down to perfection. The time schedules of the employees, the traffic conditions, the cop on the corner. I phoned Wilson to come down from New York, and he agreed with me that we could handle it without Perlango.
The next morning I came around the block wearing a postal uniform, and Wilson took his station directly across the street. It took a couple of minutes for the guard to come to the door. Apparently, he was downstairs. All the while I was waiting, the buses were piling up from the elevated station practically to the bank.
When the guard finally opened the door, I told him I had a special-delivery letter and used the same technique as always. I handed him the book, handed him the letter, and with both of his hands fully occupied, pushed my way inside and closed the door behind me. The whole thing didn’t take more than a few seconds, and yet at that key instant when I was pushing my way in, a woman stepping down off the bus happened to be in perfect position to look in through the glass window of the storm door and catch the action.
Fortunately for us, Eddie Wilson saw it all happening. Saw the look of recognition cross her face, saw her go hurrying over to the officer on the corner, saw them starting back.
I had already disarmed the guard when, suddenly, the bell rang. In addition to the pistol this guard had a very peculiar rubber blackjack, with a tear-gas bomb on the end of it. The idea seemed to be that when he hit you over the head, he’d also be triggering the tear gas to finish you off. I couldn’t believe it when Wilson told me I had been seen; he actually had to argue with me. I threw a few words of caution at this watchman, and then we went slamming out the storm doors and through a side alley to the back street where we had parked the car.
I can’t describe how frustrated I was. It’s always the ones that don’t come off that stand out in your mind, because the successful ones get to be so routine that after a while they tend to blur. Over the years, I must have taken close to a hundred banks, and the ones I see most clearly are the four I missed. The Ozone Park National Bank where we left the tanks behind, the National City Bank where the kid got out, and the Brooklyn bank when Eagen didn’t show up. And the Corn Exchange Bank in Philadelphia.
There was another one, with Bassett, on the outskirts of Buffalo, when the alarm unaccountably went off just as the guard was opening the door. But that one doesn’t really count. “That’s just what I’m checking up on,” I told the startled guard. We’d had a lot of that kind of thing lately, I said sternly, and the captain wanted it known that he didn’t have the manpower to go chasing down every defective alarm.
The next morning I was back again. “You see,” said the guard, “it’s working just fine now.”
“It sure is,” I said, showing him the gun. “Let’s see if we can do it right this time. You wouldn’t want me to spend another night in this burg, would you?”
After all the time I’d spent at the Corn Exchange Bank, it really rankled.“Stick around for a while,” I told Wilson. “I want to take another look.” The next morning I went back to see what kind of security measures were being taken. What I saw, I liked. All the employees had been given a key to the outside door, and as each of them arrived they would lock it behind them before they rang the bell. Jeez, I said to myself. They’re trapping themselves inside the vestibule. Even if they saw me standing inside when the guard opened the door for them, they could never get out to the street to warn anybody.