Libra - Don Delillo [140]
It occurred to Lee that this man thought he’d performed some function for Agent Freitag in Fort Worth. He must be in the files as a cooperating Marxist, ha ha, or part-time political informer.
“There’s a detective agency here in town,” Bateman said. “It operates as a nerve center for the anti-Castro movement in the area. A man named Guy Banister runs the office. He is ex-FBI. Normally speaking we are on the same side. We trade information with Banister all the time. But sometimes there is the necessity of, we turn around, we turn about. I want to get inside Guy Banister Associates. I need a little opening, a crack in the wall. By the way I want to ask. Were you with the Office of Naval Intelligence, going into Russia? Because I know a communication was sent from our Fort Worth desk to ONI.”
“They had a false defector program.”
“Inserting people. This I’m aware of.”
“There are gray areas in ONI. I’m one of those areas.”
Bateman seemed to appreciate the remark. He said, “That’s only fitting because in this city at this particular time, black is white is black. In other words people are playing havoc with the categories. ”
There was a trace of enthusiasm in his voice.
“Banister recruits students. He has students go into campus situations to monitor leftist activity. You’re student-age. You’re familiar with the language of left and right. You know your Cuba.”
“I approach Banister for an assignment but I’m actually an informer for the Bureau.”
“We use the word informant. It’s not sleazy and ratty terminology. What would you say to being developed along those lines? You’d be surprised at the status of some of our informants. Off the top of my head I’d say we could stock the alumni association of a fair-size college.”
They sat over their lunch plates for a moment, thinking it all out. There was a Merry Xmas sign going gray on the wall.
“Now tell me, do I keep going? Because this business implies trust. It is tricky to bring off. It requires a certain kind of individual. There is risk and chance in these things. But there’s also solid trust. There is complete backing. I give that to an informant.”
Lee ate his food, showing nothing.
“How it might operate goes something like this. You walk into Banister’s office. It is convenient to your place of work, right around the comer. You tell them you’re an ex-Marine and you mention contacts with the Bureau in the state of Texas. Make it clear you’re a Castro hater. Tell them you want to pose as a leftist, to infiltrate local organizations.”
“I could tell them I’m starting an organization.”
“This is a thought.”
“A local office, like, Fair Play for Cuba.”
“This has possibilities.”
“I could get pamphlets from New York in large quantities, plus application forms.”
“This is promising,” Bateman said. “You tell Banister you will start a chapter right here in town. This will draw pro-Castro people to your door. You’ll gather names and addresses. Banister loves a good list.”
“It goes round and round.”
“You seem to pretend.”
“But I’m not pretending.”
“But you are pretending.”
They ate their lunch. Bateman explained that if Guy Banister wanted to check Oswald’s background, he would naturally contact the local FBI office, specifically Bateman, who would provide highly selective information. He also explained that he wasn’t allowed to drink coffee. The Director had placed a ban, making the Bureau free of addictive stimulants.
“I think Banister will be interested. But don’t expect funds. This would be a tiny sideline for him. I’ll arrange an informant’s fee of two hundred dollars a month. Out of this, you run your project. And of course you tell me what they’re doing at 544 Camp Street. Because they’re doing something all the time.”
“I want to study politics and economics.”
“You’re an interesting fellow. Every agency from here to the Himalayas has something in the files on Oswald, Lee. One thing I have to be sure about. No one else shares your services. This is Bureau policy. I can’t do business with an informant