"The stock will be held by the fund," said Hoffa. "The profits will be paid as dividends. That will enrich the fund. My members will benefit."
"They may if you get the license."
"We'll get the license," said Hoffa with a twisted, toothy smile.
"Well, let's see," said Kennedy. "Are you familiar with the terms of Nevada Statute Number 571 dash 1302?"
"I don't try to memorize all the laws, Counsel. Maybe you do. I guess that's your business: to know as many laws as you can. I have other problems."
"The Nevada statute I'm citing to you, Mr. Hoffa, is the one that says a gaming license cannot be issued to any individual with a felony record — nor to any organization which has such an individual among its officers or on its board of directors. You are familiar with that, are you not?"
"I've heard of it, Counsel."
"Yay-uss. Aren't you concerned about the felony record of one of your corporate officers?"
Hoffa swung around and leaned toward the microphone. "None of my officers has a felony record, Mr. Kennedy."
"Way-ull, let's see about that. What about Mr. Maurice Cohen?"
Hoffa grinned. "You blew that one, Counsel. There's no Cohen associated with our company."
Kennedy opened a file folder that had lain before him all during the questioning of Hoffa. He glanced again at Toni. "The man who calls himself Morris Chandler," he said, "is in fact one Maurice Cohen. Mr. Cohen has a criminal record, supplied to this committee by the FBI. He served a year in prison in Louisiana many years ago for larceny. He served more than two years in the Ohio Penitentiary for violation of the National Prohibition Act. In addition to that he served time for public vagrancy in Texas. His FBI sheet says also that he was a member of the Purple Gang. Were you unaware of this when you made him an officer of your hotel corporation, Mr. Hoffa?"
"I sure as hell was," said Hoffa. "If all that's true — which I doubt — it's news to me."
Kennedy closed the file. "I believe the Nevada Gaming Commission will say it was something you were supposed to find out before you employed Mr. Cohen."
"Okay," said Hoffa. "Let me tell you somethin'. Cord Hotels owns one Vegas casino-hotel and is buildin' another one. One of the directors of that company is a Mrs. Wyatt. Okay. Mrs. Wyatt didn't do time 'many years ago' like you say Mr. Chandler did. She did hers not so long ago. And it wasn't for sellin' liquor during Prohibition, either. Mrs. Wyatt went to the federal pokey for stealin' mail outa mailboxes! Check it, Counsel. Check somethin' more. When she was arrested, she had counterfeit money in her possession. Who's clean, Mr. Kennedy? Not your friends the Cords either!"
7
Toni opened her door and welcomed Bat into her Washington apartment. They had agreed it might not be wise for them to meet in his hotel or to go to dinner in a restaurant — not right now.
"I'm sorry, Bat," she said. "I really am. I didn't realize I was opening a can of worms."
He tossed his coat on a chair. "My father's answer to that is to hell with it; he's glad we did it. So Angie resigned from the board."
"Poor Angie."
"She's getting something better," said Bat. "He's marrying her. Christmas Eve. At the ranch."
Toni sat down on her couch. "Jesus ... Last year I wasn't sure he'd make it through 1958."
"It's been a good year for him. Being active in the business again, having a fight on his hands ... He thrives on it. It's what he cares about."
"I'm surprised it's at the ranch again," she said.
"He did talk about selling it," said Bat. "He didn't think there could be another Christmas there. Now he's glad he didn't sell. And I suppose the ranch is the closest thing he's ever had to a home. There'll be the party. We're all invited. Even Monica."
"I'm not sure I can come this year, Bat," she said. "My father and mother— "
"Toni," he interrupted. "You must come. My mother will be there. And my stepfather, Virgilio Escalante. My mother hasn't seen you since we were at Cambridge. She wants to see you. Besides ... it may be the last time I'll be there for Christmas. The old man and I are pretty close to an end."
"I can't believe that."
"Do believe it. There's only so much I can tolerate."
"He's invited Monica?" Toni asked. "He's going to marry Angie in the presence of— " Toni shook her head. "I guess that's his style. A Roman triumph."
"I'm not sure," said Bat. "He may have it in mind just to collect around him the people he cares most about."
"For his wedding."
"Right. And more news. Jo-Ann is pregnant."
"Lucky girl," said Toni, half sarcastically, half not.
8
As she always did, Toni pulled her panties back on after they had sex. That was an idiosyncrasy of hers that had always amused Bat. He had first undressed her twelve years ago, and in those twelve years she had not gained weight; nothing had loosened or slackened. She wore her hair shorter. She had developed a few very fine lines around her eyes, but instead of detracting from the beauty of her face they lent it character.
He picked up his shorts, then smiled and tossed them aside. Another of her idiosyncrasies was that she enjoyed seeing him naked. He had gained a few pounds. The fact was, he had been too thin when he came back to Harvard after the war. Over the years his scars had faded and lost most of their color. Toni seemed not even to notice them anymore. In the small, warm, cozy rooms of her Georgetown apartment, he enjoyed being naked. Besides, he could expect she would want his penis again before long, for something or other.
They returned to her living room, where she poked at the coals in her little marble-faced fireplace and set the fire blazing again. Bat poured Courvoisier into two snifters, and they sat together on the couch.
"Bobby Kennedy will hang on to Jimmy Hoffa like a bulldog," she said. "One thing, though. We've got to worry about one thing."
"What's that?"
"The 1960 election. Dick Nixon is hand in glove with Hoffa. He'll drop the prosecutions. He might even pardon him."
"So your friend Kennedy has to be elected President. You'll have a tough time selling that idea to Jonas Cord."
Toni lowered her face to Bat's stomach, took his penis in her hand, and began to lick gently, languidly, manifestly not anxious to bring him along quickly. He caressed the back of her neck.
"I'll come to the ranch with you for Christmas," she said. "But I've got to go to Florida before or after and spend some time there. Morgana insists I must come."
"Problem?" he asked.
"You know Morgana. She's always thought it was her business to arrange my life."
"So what's she arranging now?"
"She's been talking to some people at the Miami Herald. There's a possibility I'll be the Washington correspondent for the Herald. There's even a possibility I'll be political editor."
"Meaning live in Florida," he said.
She had slipped his penis inside her mouth, so she answered, "Mmm-hmm."
"Toni."
"Hmm?"
"Do I have to remind you I love you?"
She pulled her face back. "I love you, too," she said. "I always have. I actually tried to stop loving you. You're not the ideal man to be in love with, you know."
"I am capable of being more than one kind of idiot," he said.
She ran the tip of her tongue from his scrotum to his foreskin. "This conversation is getting very serious, Bat," she said softly.