The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [231]
It looked good on paper. It was good for him. It upped his retirement stakes.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. I’m scared. Drac scared him. Drac talked PR. Drac talked financial disclosure.
I’ll buff my image. I’ll audit my books. I’ll publish clean stats. Don’t do it. I’ve pilfered. Don’t disclose my tithe stats.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. My love life’s a mess. I dream about Jane. I make love to Janice.
Janice found work. Janice bought a golf shop. She sold golfwear at the Sands Hotel. She built a rep.
She did trick shots at her indoor range. She built a rep. She ragged herself like Barb did. She built a rep. She performed. She drew customers. She made money.
She still limped. She still cramped. She still spasmed up. She drank less now. She clowned less. She tattled less. She laid off the Tedrows. She’d outgrown their spell.
He slept with Janice. Jane shared the bed. Jane bludgeoned/Jane shot-gunned/Jane bled.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. It hurts to sleep. My hate life’s a mess.
He worked with Wayne Senior. They haggled business points. Wayne Senior talked Image.
Shitfire—looks count. Screw hate tracts—I know Dick Nixon.
Wayne Senior talked Image. Wayne Senior talked change. Wayne Senior did not talk BLACK RABBIT. Wayne Senior performed. Wayne Senior delivered.
He saw Nixon. He passed the word. He said Dick will run. He said Dick wants that sitdown. He said Dick wants your cash.
Littell called Drac. Drac agreed. Drac said he’d pay that percentage. Littell called the Boys. The Boys whooped and crowed.
Dick likes money. Dick will grant “favors.” Wayne Senior says so. He’ll run. He’ll gain ground. He’ll win primaries. He’ll get the nomination. He’ll meet with Littell.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. I hate Wayne Senior. I hate Tricky Dick. I love Bobby. I love Bobby’s kid.
He passed through D.C. He met Paul Horvitz. He culled Jane’s file. He retyped her notes. He snitched second-line mobsters to Bobby.
He met Paul four times. He delivered four parcels. Paul was wowed. Paul cited Bobby. Bobby was very impressed. They held the data. They verified facts. They withheld disclosure.
Paul said our deal holds. We’ll hold your dirt—until late ’68. Paul said Bobby might run. LBJ might retire. Let’s await ’68.
He met Paul. He played southern poof. He deployed a fake beard and drawl. They talked politics. He weaved lies. He described his life in Mississippi.
School in De Kalb. Liberal values. Southern gentility. The Klan drove him out. He moved north. Displaced aristocracy.
Paul heard his tales. Paul endured dinner dates. He’s lonely. He’s old. He loves Bobby.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. I indulge fantasies.
He traveled. He worked. He tithed the SCLC. He ran tail checks. He caught tails. He diversionaried.
He calculated. He tail-scanned. He nailed the rotation: Spot tails/one day on/nine days off. He confirmed the nine to one ratio. He tail-checked accordingly.
Paranoia: valid and justified. Nine days free. One day restricted. Act accordingly.
Mr. Hoover never called. Ditto BLUE RABBIT. He did the bug jobs. Agents directed him. BLUE RABBIT disappeared. He got no pouches. He got no attaboys. He got no thank-yous. He got no welcome back. He got no tix to BLACK RABBIT.
It scared him. It said they’ve upscaled BLACK RABBIT. It said they’re doing bad things.
He met Bayard Rustin once a month. They had lunch in D.C. Bayard said he almost got blackmailed—child, what a scene!
Bayard ran it down. Bayard described mirrors and mike plants. Bayard described a fruit squeeze. It felt like Freddy Otash. It could be Pete B.
Pete was bereft then. Barb had left him. Pete sulked accordingly. Littell tracked the date Bayard gave him. Littell tracked probability.
He was bugging Mob spots then. He braced Freddy T. Freddy declined work. Freddy had work. Freddy said Fred O. gigs me.
Don’t ask Pete. He might say yes. He might say I pulled that queer squeeze.
Retire me. I’m stretched thin. My friends