Barb shook her head. "I like the useful part, and I don't think about the other."

"Like the notion of plundering one nation in order to liberate another?"

Barb squeezed his hands. "Stop it. Remember what you do and who you're talking to."

Littell laughed. "Don't say you just want him to be happy."

Barb laughed. "To a free Cuba, then."

Janice Tedrow walked in. Littell saw her. Littell watched her. Barb watched him watch.

Janice saw him. Janice waved. Janice grabbed a side booth. She ordered a drink. She faced the TV. She watched Jack and Bobby.

Barb said, "You're blushing."

"No, I'm not. I'm fifty-one years old."

"You're blushing. I'm a redhead, and I know a blush when I see one."

Littell laughed. Barb pulled his sleeve up. Barb checked his watch.

"I have to go."

"I'll tell Pete you're okay."

"Tell him 'I'm useful.'

"He knows that already."

Barb smiled. Barb walked. Barb went knock-kneed. Men stirred. Men watched her. Littell watched the TV.

There's Bobby with Jackie. There's Jack in the Senate. There's old Honey Fitz.

Littell got hungry. Littell ordered dinner--the prime rib he'd missed. The waitress was Jack-struck. The waitress perched by the TV Littell ate. Littell watched Janice. Janice watched the TV.

She sipped toddies. She chained cigarettes. She twirled her cane. She didn't know. Wayne Senior wouldn't tell her. He knew him well enough to say.

She looked over. She saw him watching. She got up. She maneuvered with her cane.

She cocked one hip. She stabbed her cane. She limped con brio. Littell pulled a chair out. Janice grabbed Barb's cigarettes.

"That redhead played my Christmas party last year."

"She's an entertainer, yes."

Janice lit a cigarette. "You're not sleeping with her. I could tell that."

Littell smiled. Littell twirled her cane.

Janice laughed. "Stop it. You're reminding me of someone."

Littell squeezed his napkin. "He used his stick on you."

Janice twirled her cane. "It was part of the divorce settlement. One million with no beating, two million with."

Littell sipped coffee. "You're volunteering more than I asked for."

"You hate him like I do. I thought you might like to know."

"Did he find out about General Kinman?"

Janice laughed. "Clark didn't bother him. The young man in question did."

"Was he worth it?"

"It was worth it. If I didn't do something drastic, I would have stayed with him forever."

Littell smiled. "I thought you had a life sentence there."

"Seventeen years was plenty. I loved his money and some of his style, but it wasn't enough anymore."

Littell spun the cane. "The young man?"

"The young man is a former client of yours, and he's currently abetting the war effort in Vietnam."

Littell dropped the cane. Janice snatched it up.

"You didn't know?"

"No."

"Are you shocked?"

"I'm hard to shock and easy to amuse sometimes."

Janice squeezed his hands. "And you've got old scars on your face that remind me of this temporary harelip of mine."

"Wayne's mentor put them there. He's my best friend now."

"He's the redhead's husband. Wayne told me."

Littell leaned back. "You're not playing golf. I've been looking for you."

"I'm retrieving my swing. I'm not going to walk eighteen holes with a cane."

"I enjoyed watching you play. I scheduled my breaks around it."

Janice smiled. "I've leased a cottage on the Sands course. Your view inspired me."

"I'm flattered. And you're right, the view makes all the difference."

Janice stood up. "It's off the first hole. The one with the blue shutters."

Littell stood up. Janice winked and walked away. She waved. She dropped her cane and left it there. She limped molto con brio.

He caught Barb's tenner. He stood ringside. He killed time. He ducked Jane's bedtime. He schemed up a trip.

I'll fly to L.A. You drive back. I'll meet you.

He drove home. The lights were on. Jane was still up. The IV was on. A newsman mourned Jack at great length.

Littell turned it off. "I have to fly to L.A. tomorrow. I'll be leaving early."

Jane spun her ashtray. "It's abrupt, and we're coming up on Thanksgiving."

"You should have come next week. It would have been better all around."

"You wanted me here, so I came. Now you're leaving."

Littell nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry."

"You wanted to see if I'd come. You were testing me. You broke a rule that we set for ourselves, and now I'm stuck in this suite."

Littell shook his head. "You could take a walk. You could get a golf lesson. You could read instead of watch TV for sixteen goddamn hours."

Jane threw her ashtray. It hit the TV.

"Given the date, how could you expect me to do anything else?"

"Given the date, we could have talked about it. Given the date, we could have stretched the rules. Given the date, you could have given up some of your goddamn secrets."

Jane threw a cup. It hit the TV.

"You carry a gun. You carry briefcases full of money. You fly around the country to see gangsters, you listen to tapes of Robert Kennedy when you think I'm sleeping, and I've got secrets?"

They slept solo.

He scooped up her butts. He packed a bag. He packed his briefcase. He packed three suits. He packed appeal briefs and money--ten grand in cash.

He made up the couch. He stretched out. He tried to sleep. He thought about Janice. He thought about Barb. He thought about Jane.

He tried to sleep. He thought about Barb. He thought about Janice.

He got up. He cleaned his gun. He read magazines. Harper's ran a piece--Mr. Hoover misbehaves.

He gave a speech. He fomented. He attacked Dr. King. He disrupted. He appalled. He stirred hate.

Littell turned the light off. Littell tried to sleep.

He counted sheep. He counted money. Skim cuts and embezzlements--civil-rights tithes.

He tried to sleep. He thought about Jane. He counted her lies. He lost count. He ricocheted.

Barb goes knock-kneed. Janice waves her cane. Janice smiles. Janice limps. Janice drops her cane.

He got up. He got dressed. He drove to McCarran. He saw a sign for Kool Menthol--all swimsuits and sun.

He turned around. He drove back. He drove to the Sands. He parked. He primped in his rearview mirror.

He walked by the golf course. He found the cottage and knocked. Janice opened up.

She saw him. She smiled. She plucked her curlers out.

65.

(Saigon, 11/28/64)

White Horse--grad research.

Wayne mixed morph clay and ammonia. Wayne ran three hot plates. Wayne boiled three kilos. Shit filtered out.

Wayne dumped the ammonia. Wayne cleaned the beakers. Wayne dried the bricks.

Call it: Test batch #8.

He blew twenty bricks. He filtered wrong. He fucked the process. He learned. He added steps. He sluiced out organic waste.

Pete postponed the ship date. Pete let him learn.

Wayne boiled water. Wayne gauged it. Roger--182F.

He dumped it. He poured acetic anhydride. He filled three vats. He boiled it. He got it.