They talked truce. They notched points. They nailed details. He said I'll stay in Vegas. I'll run Tiger Kab and the Cavern. I won't touch the dope. I'll just surveille shipments in.

I have to--the heat's up--Drac brought publicity. I'll work in Vegas and rotate to you in Sparta.

Barb bought the plan. Said plan stressed Vietnam. Said plan stressed his exclusion.

They made love. They sealed the pact. They fucking snowmobiled. Fucking Sparta, Wisconsin--Lutherans and trees.

Pete scoped the ballroom. Pete watched the floor. Sal M. looked over. Sal M. looked away.

Dom's bun boy filed missing-persons. LVPD worked the case. It got some ink. Cops checked out the Cavern. Pete bribed them. They dumped the case resultant.

Otash watchdogged Sal. Sal learned his script. It was simple shit: I just loooove civil rights! Otash worked with Dwight Holly. They redid Sal's pad. They ripped out a closet. They hung 1-way glass and rigged a camera. Said camera faced Sal's bed.

Fred T. assisted. Fred T. bugged lamps. Fred T. bugged walls. Fred T. bugged mattress springs.

Pete scoped the ballroom. Pete watched the floor. Celebs hobnobbed. Celebs sucked up to King.

Otash said, "You see the paper? Jack Ruby died."

"I saw it."

"You guys went back. Sam G.'s dropped a few hints."

Sal looked over. Pete cued him--go in strong now.

Sal shagged a waiter. Sal cadged a drink. Sal chugalugged. Sal flushed bright. Sal mingled. Sal walked.

Fruit Alert--Bayard Rustin--fruit fly at ten o'clock high. Bayard's got backscratchers--Burl Ives plus two--Sal's moving in tight.

Sal sees Bayard. Bayard sees Sal. Two smiles and wet lips aflutter. Strings swell. "Strangers in the Night." "Some Enchanted Evening."

Burl's pissed. Who's this punk? I'm old-line Left. Sal said hi. Sal drifted off. Bayard eye-tracked his ass.

Otash said, "Contact."

A bell rang. It's chow time. Hold for pygmy banquet fare.

Cliques dispersed. The guests hit the tables. Sal eye-tracked Bayard. Sal sat nearby.

Bayard saw him. Bayard wrote a napkin note. Pat Brown passed it down. Sal read it. Sal blushed. Sal passed a note back.

Pete said, "Liftoff."

They killed time.

They walked next door. They hit Trader Vic's. They quaffed mai-tais. They noshed rumaki sticks.

Cops passed through. Cops dished updates.

Dinner's done. King's talking. King's dripping foam at the mouth. He's Red. He's a puppet. I know it. The peaceniks love him. It burns me. My son's in Vietnam.

A TV kicked on. The barman flipped channels. The barman shut off the sound. There's war news on three channels. There's choppers and tanks. There's Commie King on two more.

Pete checked his watch. It was 10:16. Hold for fruit flies on high. Otash wolfed a puu-puu platter. His cummerbund swelled.

10:28:.

Sal walks in. Sal sits down. Sal ignores them.

10:29:.

Bayard walks in. Bayard sits down. Bayard greets Sal: Child, how are you! I'm such a fan!

Otash got up. Pete got up. Pete grabbed a shrimp spear for the road.

Setup: They hit Sal's pad. They aired out the closet. They prepped the camera. They loaded film. They waited. They sat still.

The closet was hot. They popped sweat. They stripped to socks and shorts.

They sat still. They killed the lights. Their watch dials ran fluorescent.

11:18. 11:29. 11:42.

Poof--doorway light. Off the bedroom--stage right.

Pete squared the camera. Otash rolled film. More light/bedroom fixtures/beams overhead.

Sal walked in. Bayard squeezed in tight. They laughed. They touched. They brushed hips. Bayard kissed Sal. Otash went ugh. Sal kissed Bayard back.

Pete squared the camera. Pete nailed the bed. Pete got Ground Zero in mid-shot.

Sal said, "Martin gives a good speech, but you're handsom--"

Sal stopped. Sal stopped what the-- His voice fluttered. His voice echo-chambered. His voice woofered. His voice tweetered. His voice bounced high and wide.

FUCK--.

Overfeed. Overamp. Microph-- Bayard tweaked. Bayard hinked. Bayard looked around fast. Bayard yodeled. Bayard yelled, "HeIl-o!" Bayard got echoes back.

Sal grabbed his neck. Sal blitzed a kiss. Sal squeezed his ass. Bayard shoved him. Sal hit the bed. A mattress-mike snapped.

It hit the floor. It bounced. It rolled. It stopped.

Pete said, "Shit."

Otash said, "Fuck."

Bayard yelled--"Hell-o, J. Edgar!"--Bayard got echoes back.

Sal grabbed a pillow. Sal hid his face. Sal nellied out. Sal kicked his legs nonstop.

Bayard looked around. Bayard saw the mirror. Bayard ran up.

He hit the glass.

He gouged his hands.

He tore his hands up.

102.

(Silver Spring, 1/6/67)

Bank work: The B. of A. South of D.C. Tithe tunnel 3.

Littell wrote a deposit slip. Littell wrote a withdrawal slip. Littell scrawled an envelope.

Seven grand--one Drac-pilfered deposit. Five grand--one tithe withdrawn. A donation from "Richard D. Wilkins"--tithe pseudonym 3.

Littell got in line. Littell saw a teller. Littell showed his slips and bankbook. The teller smiled. The teller ran his paperwork. The teller metered his check.

He checked his book balance. He creased the check. He sealed the envelope. He walked outside. He dodged snowdrifts. He found a mail chute.

He dropped the letter. He checked for tails. Standard procedure now.

Negative. No tails extant. He knew it.

He stood outside. It felt good. The cold air revived him. He was tired. He'd been running--all-Bureau ops.

He toured sixteen cities. He did sixteen bug jobs. He bugged sixteen Mob meeting spots. He worked solo. Fred T. was booked. Fred T. had work with Fred O. He had off-time himself. It was Drac-approved. Drac's Mormons filled his spot.

Said Mormons haggled in Vegas. They said sell us the DI. They said sell us more hotels.

He flew loops. He did bug jobs. He called Moe D. Moe was jazzed. Moe said we'll bilk Drac--I know it.

He flew circuits. Chicago/K.C./Milwaukee. St. Louis/Santa Barbara/L.A. He nursed plans. He hit L.A. He acted.

He went through Jane's file. He sifted dirt. He culled dirt on secondline hoods--all East Coast men.

It was prime Arden data. It detailed hijacks and Mob hits. It was nontangential. It was non-fund-book-related. It was not related to: Carlos/Sam G./John Rosselli/Santo/Jimmy/et al.

He typed out the facts. He wrote succinct. He print-wiped the paper. He flew back out. He traveled. He bugged more meet spots. He hit Frisco/Phoenix/Philly. He hit D.C. and New York.

He stayed in Manhattan. He booked a hotel room. He used a pseudonym. He altered his appearance. He cosmeticized.

He bought a beard. It was dark blond and gray. It was superb quality. It covered his scars. It reshaped his face. It aged him ten years.

He met Bobby once. He met Bobby three days pre-Dallas. Bobby would remember him. Bobby knew his look.

He bought work clothes. He bought contact lenses. He surveilled Bobby's billet: The UN Towers/old brick/off 1st Avenue.

He braced the doorman. The doorman knew Bobby. The doorman said Bobby rotates. Bobby runs south to D.C. Bobby runs back to New York.

Littell watched. Littell waited. Bobby showed two days in. Bobby brought a young aide north.

A thin boy. Dark hair and glasses. Said boy looked bright. Said boy adored Bobby. Said boy's adulation glowed.

They walked the East Side. Constituents waved. The boy rebuffed hecklers and creeps. Littell tailed them. Littell got close. Littell heard Bobby speak.

The boy had a car. Littell got the plate stats. Littell ran them through the DMV. He got Paul Michael Horvitz/age 23/address in D.C.

Littell called Horvitz. Littell dropped hints. Littell said he had information. Horvitz bit. They arranged a meet--on for tonight in D.C.

Tellers walked out. A guard locked the bank. Snow fell. It felt cold. It warmed him.

He prepped. He worked up mannerisms. He culled a new wardrobe. He dredged up a drawl.

One tweed suit. One soft chambray shirt. Beard/lisp/fey posture.

He showed early. He named the spot: Eddie Chang's Kowloon. The lighting was murky. Said lighting would camouflage.

He got a booth. He sprawled invertebrate. He ordered tea. He watched the door. He checked his watch.

There's Paul.

It's 8:01. He's punctual. He's youthful and sincere. Littell geared up--be aged/be fey.

Paul glanced around. Paul saw couples. Paul saw one solo act. He walked back. He sat down. Littell poured him tea straight off.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice."

"Well, your call intrigued me."