A chauffeur stood around. A Negro man. Tall like Wendell Durfee.
The preacher braced Wayne pre-service. The preacher counseled him.
I feel your loss. I know your grief. I _understand_.
Wayne said it: "I'm going to kill Wendell Durfee."
God's will. The ides of fate. Snatched in her prime.
The plots adjoined Central High. He met Lynette there. Soldiers and rednecks. Negro kids scared.
The chauffeur stood around. The chauffeur filed his nails. The chauffeur wore a hair net. He had Durfee hair. He had Durfee skin. He had Durfee's lank frame.
Wayne watched him. Wayne retouched his hair. Wayne retouched his skin. Wayne made him Wendell D.
The preacher prayed. The Sprouls wept. The Tedrows stood calm. The chauffeur buffed his nails.
Wayne watched him.
He burned his face. He smashed his teeth. He fed him Big "H."
(Las Vegas, 2/9/64)
The DI count room.
_Money_-coin bins and hampers stuffed. A swivel spy-camera hooked up.
Your host-Moe Dalitz.
The count men were out. The camera was off. Money sat waist-high. Littell sneezed-the fumes were bad-sting off cash dye and tin.
Moe said, "It's not that complicated. The count guys are in cahoots with the camera guys. The camera goes on the fritz, accidental on purpose, so the count guys can get the skim out and retally it. You don't need a college education."
Mesh hampers-laundry-size. Forty hampers/forty grand per.
Moe dipped in. Moe snagged ten grand-C-notes all.
"Here, for your civil-rights deal. What's their fucking motto, 'We Shall Overcome'?"
Littell grabbed the cash. Littell packed his briefcase.
"The skim interests me."
"You are not alone in that. Certain Federal agencies have been known to be curious."
"Are you looking for couriers?"
Moe said, "No. We use civilians, exclusive. Squarejohns who owe casino markers. They run the skim and pay off their debts at 7 1/2% of the transport."
Littell shot his cuffs. "I was thinking of Mr. Hughes' Mormons, or other trustworthy ones, at a 15% rate."
Moe shook his head. "I don't like to fuck with success, but I'll hear you out anyway."
Littell sneezed. Moe supplied a Kleenex. Littell wiped his nose.
"You're going to sell Mr. Hughes some hotels. He'll want his Mormons or _some_ Mormons to run them. You'll want your men, you'll compromise, you'll want to escalate your skim operations."
Moe twirled a dime. "Don't be a cock tease. You've got this tendency to string things out."
Littell hugged his briefcase. "I want to enlist some Mormons, over time, and have them ready by the date you sell Mr. Hughes the hotels. You'd have a pool of potential inside men with skim experience."
"That's not enough inducement to pay 15%."
"At face value, no."
Moe rolled his eyes. "So, lay it out. Jesus Christ, don't make me coax you."
"All right. Mr. Hughes' people travel on Hughes Aircraft charter flights. I could hire some Mormons to work for Mr. Hughes now, and you could ship the skim bulk and avoid airport security risks."
Moe flipped the dime. Moe caught it heads-up.
"At face value, I like it. I'll talk to the other guys."
"I'd like to get started soon."
"Take a breather. Don't wear yourself out."
"I'm sure that's a good tip, but I'd-"
"Here's a better one. Bet Clay over Liston. You'll make a fucking mint."
"Is the fight fixed?"
"No, but Sonny's got some very bad habits."
o o o
Littell flew to L.A.
He flew solo. He booked a Hughes plane. The Hughes fleet moored in Burbank. Cessna Twins-six seats each-ample skim space.
The flight ran smooth. No clouds and desert sparkling up.
Moe took the bait. Moe missed the dodge. Moe thought the dodge was pro-Drac. Wrong-the dodge was pro-civil rights.
Call it:
Bagmen. Potential "casino consultants." _Hughes_ men. All charter-flight cleared.
He could skim off the skim. He could feed Bayard Rustin. He could blunt Mr. Hoover's damage. Wayne Senior ran Mormon thugs. Wayne Senior knew bagmen types. _He_ could coopt them.
The long-term goaclass="underline" damage abatement.
Mr. Hoover filmed Dr. King. Mr. Hoover tried to entrap him. Mr. Hoover dirt-fed his "correspondents": congressmen/reporters/clergymen.
Mr. Hoover schooled them. Mr. Hoover taught them restraint. Let's collude and leak covert data. Let's leak it smart. Don't leak strict bug-and-tap data. Don't jeopardize bug-and-tap mounts.
Mr. Hoover held dirt. Mr. Hoover leaked dirt. Mr. Hoover caused pain. Mr. Hoover hated Dr. King. Mr. Hoover exposed his one weakness:
Sadism. _Sustained_. Inflicted over TIME.
TIME worked two ways. There was TIME to inflict harm. There was TIME to countermand the effects.
The skim plan might work. The skim plan sparked a question: Hughes money-a potential tithe source?
The plane banked. Littell pared an apple. Littell sipped coffee.
Pete had Wayne's files. Pete squeezed Spurgeon and Hinton. Spurgeon fed Pete some dirt. Key legislators and their pet charities-dirt per their philanthropy.
Pete said he bypassed Eldon Peavy. Peavy was cop-sanctioned. Peavy might balk at threats. Pete was disingenuous. Pete's threats _worked_. Pete craved Monarch Cab. Pete was gauging a takeover shot.
The plane dipped low. Burbank showed sunshine and smog.
He'd lunched with Wayne Senior. Wayne Senior praised him-you saved my son.
Junior declined Senior's help. Junior rebuffed his connections. Junior nixed good job offers. Junior nixed work in chemistry. Junior sought his own work. Junior found low-end employment.
The Wild Deuce Casino-night bouncer-6:00 to 2:00 a.m. The Deuce was rough. The Deuce welcomed Negroes. Junior welcomed pain.
Wayne Senior bought Littell's lunch. Wayne Senior made nice. Wayne Senior said ugly things.
Wayne Senior derided the civil-rights movement. Wayne Senior brought up the King film.
Littell smiled. Littell made nice. Littell thought _I will make you all pay_.
o o o
Jane said, "I got a job."
The terrace was cold. The view compensated. Littell leaned on the rail.
"Where?"
"Hertz rent-a-car. I'm doing the books for the West L.A. branches."
"Did your Tulane degree help?"
Jane smiled. "It got me the extra thousand a year I asked for."
She used hard vowels. She eschewed slurs. She dropped her southern drawl. She'd reworked her voice and diction-he just noticed it.
She said, "It feels good to rejoin the work force."
Hard _g_'s. Regionless. Pure consonants.
Littell smiled. Littell popped his briefcase. Littell pulled out six sheets.
He landed. He drove to Hughes Tool. He stopped at the bookkeeping pool and stole forms.
Invoices. Bill sheets. All standard paper.
He got in. He got out. He shaped his upcoming lie.
"Would you look at these when you get a chance? I need your advice on a few things."
Jane scanned the sheets. "They're all boilerplate. Cost-outs, overruns, that kind of thing."
Hard _b_'s and _p_'s. Lazy _o_'s deleted.
"I want to discuss embezzling techniques and how to use these forms. There's going to be a buildup in Vietnam, and Mr. Hughes will probably be awarded some contracts. He's afraid of embezzlements, and he asked me to study up."
Jane smiled. "Did you tell him your girlfriend's an embezzler?"