Libra - Don Delillo [159]
In fact there was nothing new in the file. The same old rumors and suspicions. They are down there in the pale sands in their padded jackets, gathered in one great silent sweep, waiting for the word. It didn’t need elaboration or update. There was something classic in the massing of the Chinese.
He wanted to believe it was true. He did believe it was true. But he also knew it wasn’t. Ferrie told him it didn’t matter, true or not. The thing that mattered was the rapture of the fear of believing. It confirmed everything. It justified everything. Every violence and lie, every time he’d cheated on his wife. It allowed him to collapse inside, to melt toward awe and dread. That’s what Ferrie said. It explained his dreams. The Chinese caused his dreams. Every terror and queerness of sleep, every unspeakability—it is painted in China-white.
Men floating down in white silk. He liked to think of an unmechanized mass, silent men gathering their chutes, concealed in the pale sands. This was not the.missiles or the satellites, all that cocksure technology. The Chinese file contained the human swarm, in padded jackets, massing near the border. A fear to savor slowly.
The door opened and Ferrie walked in, breaking the reverie. He leaned against a wall eating french fries from a carton.
“I came to give a report. Not that you want to hear it.”
“Where’s Oswald?”
“Houston by now. I had Frank and Raymo take him. He’ll get on a bus for Mexico City.”
“Mackey says he can fix it so the Cubans won’t take him. He’s got Agency connections in Mexico City. Agency’s bound to have someone inside the Cuban embassy. We’re counting on Leon going back to Texas. We know that station wagon parked outside his house had Texas plates. His wife and kid left in that car.”
“I’m pretty sure his rifle went with them.”
“Is he leaning our way?” Banister said.
“This is the part you don’t want to hear.”
“He says no.”
“That’s right. But there’s time.”
“Does he know who we want?”
“He knows.”
“Not interested.”
“It needs time. He’s been carrying on a struggle inside.”
“He’s your project, Dave.”
“We had a talk this morning. To the extent that he talks. He hasn’t made the leap.”
“You keep saying you’ll get inside his mind.”
“I’m in his mind. I’m there. Like a fucking car wash.”
“He shot at Walker.”
“That’s the point. Walker was politics. But Leon can’t get worked up over Kennedy. He figures the man has made amends for past errors. He’s a little dazzled by the Kennedy magic.”
Banister wanted to crush something.
“Leon’s a type he is willing to relinquish control at some point down the line,” Ferrie said. “It just hasn’t happened yet. Where’s Mackey?”
“Miami. He’s got two houses set up. One for Alpha people. One for his own team.”
“If Leon is in?”
“If Leon is in,” Banister said, “you fly him to Miami the night before.”
“Then what?”
“We have to work it out.”
“Once it’s done I want him out of there,” Ferrie said. “I don’t want him abandoned or killed. He leaves his rifle behind and he gets out like the rest of them.”
“That’s always a possibility,” Banister said.
Ferrie tossed the empty carton toward a basket.
“Do you trust Alpha 66?” he said.
“What the hell. They’ve been running a high fever ever since Pigs. That’s two and a half years with a thermometer up their ass. They’re ready. Nobody doubts their readiness.”
“Do you trust Mackey?”
“I trust him completely,” Banister said. “He wants a wall of shooters. Maybe eight men elevated on both sides of the street. As many as ten men. A shooting gallery.”
“I thought Mackey liked a hand-knit operation.”
“That’s what he likes. This is what he gets. Alpha is in whether we want them or not. Best to join forces. He’ll make the most of it. Once the motorcade route is public, he’ll scout the area and set up positions. The hero comes riding into town. Tra-la, tra-la. We get him first crack out of the box.”
They went down the stairs and paused outside the building entrance.
Banister said, “We have one more thing working. We