The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [43]
Pete and Boyd stole some dope. Things went blooey. The Boys got very mad.
He braced Carlos. He said let’s kill Jack. He said let’s nullify Bobby. Carlos said yes. Carlos vouched the plan. Carlos brought Pete and Boyd in.
Carlos fucked them. Carlos opted for Guy B. Carlos sent Guy to Dallas.
A late bill came due. Late fees accrued. He had the “real” books. He had the data. He had them unsuspected and clean.
He was wrong. Carlos knew he had them. Carlos saw him ascend. Carlos called in the bill due.
Carlos said you’re going to sell Hughes Las Vegas—and we’re going to fuck him. You know the books. You cracked the code. You have money plans. That money. Plus the Hughes money. Equals our money—juiced by your long-range strategy.
He returned the books. He kept the dupes. His theft was near-open goods. Carlos knew. Carlos told Sam G. Sam told Johnny Rosselli.
Santo knew. Moe Dalitz knew. No one told Jimmy. Jimmy was crazy. Jimmy was shortsighted. Jimmy would kill him.
Littell skimmed newscasts. Littell got crossband blips: LBJ/Kool Menthol/Dr. King and Bobby.
He met Bobby—three days pre-Dallas—he mis-ID’d himself. He said I’m just a lawyer. He said I have a tape. Bobby gave him ten minutes of time.
He played his tape. A hood indicted Joe Kennedy.
For: Pension Fund fraud/collusion/long-term racketeering.
Bobby called his father’s bank. The manager confirmed details. Bobby brushed tears back. Bobby raged and grieved. It felt all good then. It felt all hateful now.
The news signed off. A deejay signed on. Mr. Tunes—comin’ at ya.
The phone rang.
Littell ran. Littell slid on hailstones. Littell grabbed the receiver.
Pete said, “Junior won’t play. The fucking kid stalemated me.”
“I’ll talk to Sam. We’ll make a different app—”
“I’ll clip Zangetty and Killiam. That’s it. I won’t clip the women.”
The booth was hot. The windows fogged. The storm produced steam.
“I agree. We’ll have to finesse Carlos.”
Pete laughed. “Don’t shit me. You know it’s more than that.”
“What are you saying?”
Pete said, “I know about Arden.”
DOCUMENT INSERT: 12/19/63. Verbatim telephone call transcript. Marked: “Recorded at Mr. Hughes’ request. Copies to: Permanent File/Fiscal ’63 File/Security File.” Speaking: Howard R. Hughes, Ward J. Littell.
HH: Is that you, Ward?
WJL: It’s me.
HH: I had a premonition last night. Do you want to hear about it?
WJL: Certainly.
HH: I know that tone. Mollify the boss so he’ll get back to business.
(WJL laughs.)
HH: Here’s my premonition. You’re going to tell me that it will take years to divest my TWA stock, so I should mind my p’s and q’s and put the whole thing out of mind.
WJL: Your premonition was accurate.
HH: That’s all you have to say? You’re letting me off that easy?
WJL: I could describe the legal processes involved in divesting half a billion dollars’ worth of stock and tell you how much you’ve impeded the progress by dodging various subpoenas.
HH: You’re feeling your oats today. I’m not up to sparring with you.
WJL: I’m not sparring, Mr. Hughes. I’m observing.
HH: And your latest estimate is?
WJL: We’re two years away from a judgment. The appeals process will extend for at least nine to fourteen months. You should discuss the details with your other attorneys and move things along by pre-submitting your depositions.
HH: You’re my favorite attorney.
WJL: Thank you.
HH: Only Mormons and FBI men have clean blood.
WJL: I’m not much of an expert on blood, Sir.
HH: I am. You know the law, and I know aerodynamics, blood and germs.
WJL: We’re expert in our separate fields, Sir.
HH: I know business strategy as well. I have the assets to purchase Las Vegas now, but I prefer to wait and make the purchase with my stock windfall.
WJL: That’s a prudent strategy, Sir. But I should point out a few things.
HH: Point, then. I’m listening.
WJL: One, you are not going to purchase the city of Las Vegas or Clark County, Nevada. Two, you are going to attempt to purchase numerous hotel-casinos, the