Carlos smiled. Santo clapped. Johnny said, "It's like Cuba."

Moe said, "It's ten Cubas."

Sam said, "Why stop there?"

Littell grabbed an apple. "For now, it's all long-range and theoretical. We're waiting for Mr. Hughes to dump his TWA stock and secure his seed money."

Santo said, "We're talking about years."

Sam said, "We're talking about patience."

Johnny said, "It's a virtue. I read that somewhere."

Moe said, "We watch the climate south of the border. We find ourselves a dozen Batistas."

Sam said, "Show me a spic you can't bribe."

Santo said, "All they want is a white uniform with gold epaulets."

Sam said, "They're like niggers that way."

Johnny said, "They don't tolerate Commies. You got to give them that."

Carlos grabbed some grapes. "I've got the books stashed. You have to figure that Jimmy'll fall for that jury-tampering thing."

Littell nodded. "That and his other indictments."

Sam winked. "You stole the books, Ward. Now tell us you didn't copy them over."

Johnny laughed. Moe laughed. Santo roared.

Littell smiled. "We should think about the inside people. Mr. Hughes will want to hire Mormons."

Sam cracked his knuckles. "I don't like Mormons. They hate Italians."

Carlos sipped X.O. "Do you blame them?"

Santo said, "Nevada's a Mormon state. It's like New York for the Italians."

Moe said, "You mean the Jews."

Johnny laughed. "It's a serious issue. Hughes will want to pick his own people."

Sam coughed. "We can't back down on that. We've got to keep our people inside."

Littell pared his apple. "We should find our own Mormons. I'll be talking to a man soon. He runs the Kitchen Union."

Moe said, "Wayne Tedrow Senior."

Sam said, "He hates Italians."

Moe said, "He's not wild about Jews."

Santo peeled a cigar. "To me this is bullshit. I want made guys inside."

Johnny said, "I agree."

Moe grabbed the cigar. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Carlos peeled a Mars Bar. "Let's table this for now, all right? We're talking about years down the road."

Littell said, "I agree. Mr. Hughes won't have his money for some time."

Sam peeled a banana. "It's your show, Ward. I know you got more to say."

Littell said, "Four things, actually. Two major, two minor."

Moe rolled his eyes. "So, tell us. Jesus, you have to coax this guy."

Littell smiled. "One, Jimmy knows what Jimmy knows, and Jimmy's volatile. I'm going to do my best to keep him out of jail until we've started to implement our plans for the books."

Carlos smiled. "If Jimmy knew you stole the books, he'd implement you."

Littell rubbed his eyes. "I returned them. Let's leave it at that."

Sam said, "We forgive you."

Johnny said, "You're alive, aren't you?"

Littell coughed. "Bobby Kennedy will probably resign. The new AG might have plans for Vegas, and Mr. Hoover might not be able to curtail them. I'll try to do some favors for him, learn what I can and pass it along."

Sam said, "That cocksucker Bobby."

Moe said, "The bad fucking seed."

Santo said, "That cocksucker used us. He put his faggot brother in the White House at our expense. He fucked us like the pharaohs fucked Jesus."

Johnny said, "The Romans, Santo. The pharaohs fucked Joan of Arc."

Santo said, "Fuck Bobby and Joan. They're both faggots."

Moe rolled his eyes. Fuck this goyishe shit.

Littell said, "Mr. Hughes hates Negroes. He wants to keep them out of his hotels, at whatever the cost. I've explained the gentlemen's agreement we've got here, but he wants more."

Santo shrugged. "Everyone hates the shines."

Sam shrugged. "Especially the civil-rights types."

Moe shrugged. "Shvartzes are shvartzes. I don't want Martin Luther King on our doorstep any more than Hughes does, but they'll get their goddamn civil rights sooner or later."

Johnny said, "It's the Reds. They agitate them and get them worked up. You can't reason with an agitated person."

Santo peeled a cigar. "They know they're not wanted. We keep the lowend spooks out and let a few uptown ones in. If King Farouk of the Congo wants to drop a hundred G's at the Sands, I say let him."

Johnny grabbed a peach. "King Farouk's a Mexican."

Santo said, "Good. If he blows all his money, we'll get him a job in the kitchen."

Sam said, "I play golf with Billy Eckstine. He's a wonderful guy."

Johnny said, "He's got white blood."

Moe said, "I play golf with Sammy Davis on a regular basis."

Carlos yawned. Carlos coughed. Carlos cued Littell.

Littell coughed. "Mr. Hughes thinks the local Negroes should be 'sedated.' It's a preposterous idea, but we may be able to turn it to our advantage."

Moe rolled his eyes. "You're the best, Ward. Nobody disputes that. But you tend to beat around the bush."

Littell crossed his legs. "Carlos has tentatively agreed that we should waive our no-narcotics rule and let Pete Bondurant sell to the Negroes here. You all know the precedent. Pete trafficked for Santo's organization in Miami from '60 to '62."

Santo shook his head. "We were funding the exiles then. That was strictly an anti-Castro thing."

Johnny shook his head. "On a one-time-only basis."

Carlos said, "I like the idea. It's a moneymaker, and Pete's a hell of a resource."

Littell said, "Let's keep him busy. We can establish a new cash source and mollify Mr. Hughes at the same time. He doesn't need to know the details. I'll call it a 'Sedation Project.' He'll like the way it sounds and be satisfied. He's like a child in some ways."

Carlos said, "It's a moneymaker. I foresee some big profits."

Sam shook his head. "I foresee ten thousand junkies turning Vegas into a shithole."

Moe shook his head. "I live here. I do not want to see a big fucking influx of junkie burglars, junkie heist guys, and junkie rape-os."

Santo shook his head. "Vegas is the Queen City of the West. You don't soil a place like that on purpose."

Johnny shook his head. "You've got a bunch of hopped-up niggers looking for their next fix. You're watching The Lawrence Welk Show and some big spook kicks the door in and steals your TV set."

Sam shook his head. "And rapes your wife while he's at it."

Santo shook his head. "You'll send tourism into the shitter."

Moe snatched Santo's cigar. "Carlos, you're outruled on this. You don't shit on your own carpet."

Carlos shrugged. Carlos turned his palms up.

Moe smiled. "You're batting five hundred, Ward. That's a hell of an average in this room. And your long-range plan is a home run."

Sam smiled. "Out of the ballpark."

Santo smiled. "Out of the fucking galaxy."

Johnny smiled. "It's Cuba all over again. With no bearded Commie faggot to fuck things up."

Littell smiled. Littell twitched. Littell almost bit his tongue.

"I want to make sure we get a unanimous license vote from the Gaming Control Board and Liquor Board. Pete tried to get a look at the LVPD Intel file and got nowhere."

Santo snatched his cigar back. "We've never been able to buy off the boards. They grant their fucking licenses by whim."

Moe said, "It's the pioneer thing. You know, prejudice. We own this town, but they lump us in with the shvartzes."

Johnny said, "The files are the place to start. We've got to find the weak links and exploit them."

Sam said, "The cops guard that information. Pete B. couldn't shake it loose, so what does that tell you?"

Littell stretched. "Sam, will you have one of your people make an approach? Butch Montrose, maybe?"

Sam smiled. "For you, Ward, the moon."

Littell smiled. "I want to plant support in the state legislature. Mr. Hughes is prepared to make a series of charitable contributions and publicize them throughout Nevada, so do any of you have fav--"

Johnny cut in. "Saint Vincent de Paul."

Sam said, "The K of C."

Santo said, "Saint Francis Hospital. They cut my brother's prostrate out there."

Moe said, "The United Jewish Appeal--and fuck all you dagos."

Dracula supplied lodging--a suite at the DI. Four rooms/golf-course access/open-end lease.

His third place.

He had a place in D.C. He had a place in L.A.--two high-rise apartments. Three homes now. All ready-furnished. All depersonalized.

Littell moved in. Littell dodged golf balls. Littell tore the phones up. Littell bugswept them.

The phones were safe. He rebuilt them. He relaxed and unpacked.

Arden was in L.A. She moved toward him piecemeal. Dallas to Balboa/Balboa to L.A. Vegas scared her. The Boys partied there. She knew the Boys. She wouldn't say how.

She was his "Jane" now. She loved her new name. She loved her revised history.