The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [145]
CR: Jesus Christ.
PR: That about says it.
(Static/ambient noise/9.3 seconds.)
PR (conversation in progress): No saint, but I never fully grasped the man’s evil nature until that moment. (Pause/4.1 seconds /PR laughs) Why so glum, Ward? Really, you’re looking positively spectral.
CR: I can’t give you any more money, Bayard. It’s getting too risky on my end. (Static/0.8 seconds) later, but not for the foreseeable future.
PR: You needn’t (pause/2.2 seconds). Stop with the glum looks, child. You’ve done the cause a world of good, and I for one hope you’ll stay in touch.
CR: I want to. You know how I feel.
PR: I do indeed. I enjoy our talks, and I rely on your perceptions of the FBI mindset.
CR: I’ll continue to offer them. And I’m always passing through D.C.
PR: I’m always good for a drink or a cup of coffee.
CR (static/3.4 seconds/conversation in progress): Dr. King have planned?
PR: We’ve got a big push coming up in Selma, Alabama. We’re making plans to reprise “Freedom Summer” in Mississippi, and we’ve targeted Eastern Louisiana in June.
CR: You’ve got a strong Klan presence there. The Baton Rouge Office has a substantial file.
PR: Bogalusa’s a simmering hotbed of our pointy-headed friends. We’re going to mount voter registration drives and vex them out of their sheets.
CR (laughing/ambient noise/20 seconds): Anticipate resistance?
PR: Yes, but Martin was encouraged by the FBI’s presence in Mississippi last summer, and he’s convinced that the evil Mr. Hoover will work for the safety of our people, however reluctant—
(Sustained static/tape ends here.)
DOCUMENT INSERT: 1/7/65. Courier message: Saravan, Laos, to Saigon, South Vietnam.
To: Wayne Tedrow Junior. From: Pete Bondurant. Marked: “Hand Pouch Deliver.”
W.T.,
Be ready to follow first shipment stateside a.m. of 1/9/65. Be off lab premises by 1/8. Urgent! Respond today!
P.B.
DOCUMENT INSERT: 1/8/65. Courier message: Saravan, Laos, to Saigon, South Vietnam.
To: Wayne Tedrow Junior. From: Pete Bondurant. Marked: “Hand Pouch Deliver.”
W.T.,
Board up lab & vacate immediately! Urgent! Respond immediately!
P.B.
67
(Saigon, 1/9/65)
Let’s stay. Let’s get close. Let’s watch.
The lab was secure. He pouched Chuck last night: I’ll meet Pete/Tan Son Nhut Airport/flight 29. I packed the shit. I hid it—check the box marked “Flamethrower Parts.”
Let’s linger. Let’s get close. Let’s watch the “Cleanup.”
The Can Lao hit last night. The Can Lao precleaned. They stink-bombed the Go-Go. They ran out the patrons. They ran out the whores. They locked up the dope den. They secured the O-heads. Said O-heads dozed on.
Wayne checked his watch—6:14 a.m.—Wayne checked his window.
Marvs draped flags. Marvs unfurled banners. Marvs muscled vendors out. Marvs stole their cash. Marvs dumped their stalls. Marvs cued hose crews up.
The crews aimed. The crews fired. Water smashed walls and stalls. Water squashed fruit. Water launched debris and scoured graffiti. Vendors flew—flyweights—hose confetti.
The Marvs raised banners. There’s LBJ. Dig his big schnoz and Smile of Love. There’s Premier Khanh. He’s got big teeth. Dig his Big Smirk of Love.
A vendor flew. Water tossed him. Water tossed rickshaw bikes.
“You a watchin’ motherfucker.”
Wayne gulped a tad. Wayne turned around. Wayne saw Bongo.
In his tight fruit briefs. In his pointy fruit boots. With a chubby whore.
“You know what I like about you? It’s that ‘meek-shall-inherit-the-earth’ thing. You like to watch, but you never say a motherfuckin’ word.”
The whore wore skivvies. The whore wore thigh hickeys. The whore wore cigarette burns.
“You like her? I call her ‘Ashtray.’ You don’t need to reach for one when she’s around.”
Wayne shut the window.