The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [115]
Arden bailed out—3/10/56. The T&C Corp bailed her. Carlos M. owned T&C. T&C was his tax front.
A frayed cord. A teaser. Carlos says, “Clip Arden.” His front corp bails her.
Get more. Learn more. Don’t warn Littell yet. The cord felt thin. The cord could fray. The cord could strip.
A man walked in. He was fat. He wore glasses. His hands were smudged black. Odds on: French Para tattoos.
Para pit dogs—très French—fangs and parachutes.
Pete stood up. The man saw him. The man grabbed a front table.
Pete ad-libbed:
He crouched. He untaped his gun. He reholstered and walked over. He bowed to the man. They shook hands. The pit dogs had red eyes.
They sat down. Mesplède said, “You know Chuck Rogers.”
“Chuck’s a piece of work.”
“He lives with his parents. A man more than forty years old.”
He sounded sud-Midi. He looked marseillais. He dressed très fasciste—all-black ensemble.
Pete said, “He’s a committed man.”
“Yes. You can forgive his more outlandish beliefs.”
“He’s got a sense of humor about them.”
“The Ku Klux Klan disgusts me. I enjoy Negro jazz.”
“I like Cuban music.”
“I like Cuban food and Cuban women.”
“Fidel Castro should die.”
“Yes. He is a cochon and a pédé.”
“I saw Pigs. I ran troops out of the Blessington campsite.” Mesplède nodded. “Chuck told me. You shot communistes out an airplane window.”
Pete laughed. Pete mimed gunshots. Mesplède lit a Gauloise. Mesplède offered one.
Pete lit up. Pete coughed—it was rolled muskrat shit.
“What else did Chuck tell you?”
“That you were a committed man.”
“That’s all?”
“He also said that you, qu’est-ce que c’est?, ‘snipped links.’ ”
Pete smiled. Pete showed his pix. There’s Jack Z. trussed up. There’s Hank the K. dumped.
Mesplède tapped them. “Unfortunate men. They saw things they should not.”
Pete coughed. Pete blew smoke rings.
Mesplède coughed. “Chuck said the blond woman killed herself in jail.”
“That’s right.”
“You did not take her picture?”
“No.”
“Then Arden is the only one left.”
Pete shook his head. “She’s unfindable.”
“No one is that.”
“She has to be.”
Mesplède chained cigarettes. “I saw her once before, in New Orleans. She was with one of Carlos Marcello’s men.”
“She’s unfindable. Leave it at that.”
Mesplède shrugged. Mesplède dropped his hands. There’s the click. There’s the slide. There’s the hammer back.
Pete smiled. Pete bowed. Pete showed his gun. Mesplède smiled. Mesplède bowed. Mesplède showed his gun.
Pete grabbed a napkin. Pete draped the table. Pete covered the guns.
Mesplède said, “Your note mentioned work.”
Pete cracked his knuckles. “Heroin. We move it from Laos to Saigon and funnel it to the States. It’s Agency-adjunct and completely unsanctioned. All the profits go to the Cause.”
“Our colleagues?”
“We work under a man named John Stanton. I’ve run dope and exiles for him. We bring in Laurent Guéry, Flash Elorde, and an ex-cop to do the chemical work.”
A whore walked by. Said whore looked down. Mesplède flashed his tattoos. He flexed his hands. The dogs snapped. The dogs grew big chorizos.
The whore crossed herself. The whore buzzed off—gringos malo y feo!
Mesplède said, “I am interested. I am devoted to the cause of a free Cuba.”
“Mort à Fidel Castro. Vive l’entente franco-américaine.”
Mesplède grabbed a fork. Mesplède cleaned his nails.
“Chuck described you as ‘soft on women.’ I will concede the unfind-ability of Arden if you further prove your loyalty to the Cause.”
“How?”
“Hank Hudspeth has defrauded the Cause. He has sold faulty weaponry to exile groups and has diverted the good merchandise to the Klan.”
Pete said, “I’ll take care of it.”
Mesplède flexed his hands. The dogs went priapic.
“I would appreciate a memento.”
The setup worked—let’s talk guns—my money/your stuff.
Pete called from Houston. Hank was eager. He said catch you a plane. I got a bunker near Polk.
Pete flew to De Ridder. Pete rented a car. Pete hit a Safeway. Pete bought a cooler. Pete bought dry ice.
He hit the local PO. He bought a box. He air-mail-stamped it. He wrote Jean Mesplède’s address on top.
He hit a gun shop. He bought