The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [49]
Carlos smiled. Santo clapped. Johnny said, “It’s like Cuba.”
Moe said, “It’s ten Cubas.”
Sam said, “Why stop there?”
Littell grabbed an apple. “For now, it’s all long-range and theoretical. We’re waiting for Mr. Hughes to dump his TWA stock and secure his seed money.”
Santo said, “We’re talking about years.”
Sam said, “We’re talking about patience.”
Johnny said, “It’s a virtue. I read that somewhere.”
Moe said, “We watch the climate south of the border. We find ourselves a dozen Batistas.”
Sam said, “Show me a spic you can’t bribe.”
Santo said, “All they want is a white uniform with gold epaulets.”
Sam said, “They’re like niggers that way.”
Johnny said, “They don’t tolerate Commies. You got to give them that.”
Carlos grabbed some grapes. “I’ve got the books stashed. You have to figure that Jimmy’ll fall for that jury-tampering thing.”
Littell nodded. “That and his other indictments.”
Sam winked. “You stole the books, Ward. Now tell us you didn’t copy them over.”
Johnny laughed. Moe laughed. Santo roared.
Littell smiled. “We should think about the inside people. Mr. Hughes will want to hire Mormons.”
Sam cracked his knuckles. “I don’t like Mormons. They hate Italians.”
Carlos sipped X.O. “Do you blame them?”
Santo said, “Nevada’s a Mormon state. It’s like New York for the Italians.”
Moe said, “You mean the Jews.”
Johnny laughed. “It’s a serious issue. Hughes will want to pick his own people.”
Sam coughed. “We can’t back down on that. We’ve got to keep our people inside.”
Littell pared his apple. “We should find our own Mormons. I’ll be talking to a man soon. He runs the Kitchen Union.”
Moe said, “Wayne Tedrow Senior.”
Sam said, “He hates Italians.”
Moe said, “He’s not wild about Jews.”
Santo peeled a cigar. “To me this is bullshit. I want made guys inside.”
Johnny said, “I agree.”
Moe grabbed the cigar. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Carlos peeled a Mars Bar. “Let’s table this for now, all right? We’re talking about years down the road.”
Littell said, “I agree. Mr. Hughes won’t have his money for some time.”
Sam peeled a banana. “It’s your show, Ward. I know you got more to say.”
Littell said, “Four things, actually. Two major, two minor.”
Moe rolled his eyes. “So, tell us. Jesus, you have to coax this guy.”
Littell smiled. “One, Jimmy knows what Jimmy knows, and Jimmy’s volatile. I’m going to do my best to keep him out of jail until we’ve started to implement our plans for the books.”
Carlos smiled. “If Jimmy knew you stole the books, he’d implement you.”
Littell rubbed his eyes. “I returned them. Let’s leave it at that.”
Sam said, “We forgive you.”
Johnny said, “You’re alive, aren’t you?”
Littell coughed. “Bobby Kennedy will probably resign. The new AG might have plans for Vegas, and Mr. Hoover might not be able to curtail them. I’ll try to do some favors for him, learn what I can and pass it along.”
Sam said, “That cocksucker Bobby.”
Moe said, “The bad fucking seed.”
Santo said, “That cocksucker used us. He put his faggot brother in the White House at our expense. He fucked us like the pharaohs fucked Jesus.”
Johnny said, “The Romans, Santo. The pharaohs fucked Joan of Arc.”
Santo said, “Fuck Bobby and Joan. They’re both faggots.”
Moe rolled his eyes. Fuck this goyishe shit.
Littell said, “Mr. Hughes hates Negroes. He wants to keep them out of his hotels, at whatever the cost. I’ve explained the gentlemen’s agreement we’ve got here, but he wants more.”
Santo shrugged. “Everyone hates the shines.”
Sam shrugged. “Especially the civil-rights types.”
Moe shrugged. “Shvartzes are shvartzes. I don’t want Martin Luther King on our doorstep any more than Hughes does, but they’ll get their goddamn civil rights sooner or later.”
Johnny said, “It’s the Reds. They agitate them and get them worked up. You can’t reason with an agitated person.”
Santo peeled a cigar. “They know they’re not wanted.