The show was free. A crowd filed in. Pete and Wayne lined up. It was hot-plate hot.
The stage was ground-level. The bleachers ran sixty rows up. Onstage: Hip Herbie Ho-low-rent topical yuks.
Ho was a puppet. Hip Herbie held him. Hip Herbie held a hand mike. Hip Herbie ventriloquized. Hip Herbie moved his lips. Hip Herbie vibed hophead or souse.
They found seats. They got cramped arm- and legroom. They sat ten bleacher rows up.
Stage speakers tossed sound. Ho tossed a tantrum: "GIs scare me! Me most scared! You kill Cong ricky-tick!"
It was hot. The sun torched down. Pete got queased up. The crowd yukked halfhearted. Ho wore red devil horns. Ho wore red diapers.
Hip Herbie said, "What have you got against Uncle Sam, anyway?"
Ho said, "I come to U.S.! They no let me in Disneyland!"
The crowd yukked distracted. Ho blathered: "I get revenge! I plant land mines! I kill Donald Duck!"
The crowd yukked nonplussed. A stage geek signaled Hip Herbie-wrap this shit up.
Ho raged: "Me try sit-ins! Me try pray-ins! Me shoot Donald Duck!"
The stage geek cued a sound geek. A sax vamped low. Hip Herbie got the bum's rush.
He bowed. Ho leaked sawdust. A curtain dropped. The crowd clapped lackluster-fuck that puppet and lush.
The sax scaled up sequential. The curtain rose. Pete saw loooooong legs furl up.
No. It can't be. Please, yes. Slow now, in sync: The curtain and sax-both scaling up.
There-not no, it's yes.
Pete saw her legs. Pete saw _her_. Pete caught her kiss standing up. Wayne smiled. The Bondsmen clicked in. Barb launched Viet rock.
Whistles/wolf calls/cheers-
Barb danced. Barb shimmied. Barb kicked a shoe off. The shoe sailed high. Guys grabbed and reached. Pete reached higher up.
It's close. It's-
His chest popped. His wind died. His left arm blew up.
It's close. It's high-heeled and spangled. It's green and-
His left arm died. His left wrist torqued. His left hand blew up.
He grabbed right. He caught the shoe. He kissed it. He fell down. He squeezed the shoe. Barb blurred white white.
84
(Washington, D.C., 9/4/65)
Riot, Revolt. Insurrection.
NBC ran replays. TV pundits assessed.
Littell watched.
Negroes threw Molotovs. Negroes threw bricks. Negroes sacked liquor stores. Chief Parker blamed hoodlums. Bobby urged reforms. Dr. King urged dissent.
Dr. King digressed. Dr. King stressed other riots. Dr. King stressed Vegas West.
Replays: Negroes throw Molotovs/Negroes throw bricks/Negroes sack liquor stores.
Littell watched replays. Littell replayed vintage Drac:
"We've got to sedate those animals, Ward. We don't want them _that_ agitated _that_ close to my hotels."
Don't say it: "Pete's selling sedation, sir, but it doesn't appear to be working right now."
Ditto Pete. Barb called him last week. Barb said Pete had a heart attack.
It was bad. Pete was stable now. The old Pete was fucked. Barb came on strong. Barb begged him:
Pull strings. Brace Carlos. Make Pete retire. Bring him home. Make him stay. Do this for me.
Littell said he'd try. Littell called Da Nang. Littell talked to Pete. Pete was hoarse. Pete was tired. Pete sounded weak.
Littell called Carlos. Carlos said it's up to Pete.
Littell killed the TV. Littell eyed his news pic. He'd clipped it. He'd saved it. He'd laminated it.
The Washington _Post_: "KING ATTENDS AIDE'S FUNERAL." Aide Lyle Holly-dead per suicide-FBI plant WHITE RABBIT.
King's RED RABBIT. Bayard Rustin's PINK. Brother Dwight Holly's BLUE. They all stand close. RED and PINK mourn. BLUE RABBIT smirks.
He clipped the shot. He studied it. He built some rage. He watched riot footage. He watched replays. He built more rage.
He traveled for work. He left Vegas. He drove to L.A. He saw a tail. He ignored it. He built more rage.
He knew:
Mr. Hoover doubts you. BLUE RABBIT doubts you. Said doubts plague BLACK RABBIT WHITE RABBIT dies. You view the prelude. You spark apprehension. Mr. Hoover calls. You dissemble. He probes.
Call it a spot tail. You've seen none since. Logic meets rage.
You _were_ spot-tailed pre-BLACK RABBIT Mr. Hoover told you. Mr. Hoover pulled said tails. Mr. Hoover reinstated them-post-Lyle suicide.
_Ergo_:
He did not suspect you _then_. He does suspect you _now_.
He worked. He traveled-Vegas to L.A. He saw no tails en route. He saw Janice in Vegas. He saw Jane in L.A. He saw no tails at either venue.
Jane scared him. Jane _knew_ him. Mr. Hoover knew about Jane. Agents planted her fake transcript. Agents gave her Tulane.
He checked for tails. He checked daily. He saw none. He replayed riot footage. He replayed Dr. King's words. He replayed Lyle's file nearverbatim.
He built a plan. He decreed escalation. He flew to D.C. He did some Teamster work. He stopped by the SCLC. He logged no tails en route.
He talked to Bayard Rustin. Bayard took a call. He excused himself. He found Lyle's old cubbyhole. He worked fast. He deployed his briefcase. He went through boxed items. He stole Lyle's typewriter. He stole Lyle's memo stack.
The office mourned Lyle. They didn't know Lyle was WHITE RABBIT.
Lyle gambled. Lyle stif fed you. You lost no respect. Lyle betrayed you. Lyle died. Now Lyle resurrects and repents.
Littell made coffee. Littell studied Lyle's memos. Littell traced the name Lyle D. Holly.
He practiced. He got it. He prepped Lyle's portable. He rolled in an envelope. He typed all caps:
He unrolled the envelope. He rolled in a carbon sheet and paper. He squared off the SCLC letterhead.
Lyle Holly confessed.
To booze binges. To gambling. To passing bad checks. To betrayal-FBI-funded-at J. Edgar Hoover's behest.
Count 1: Mr. Hoover is crazy. He hates Dr. King. I joined his hate campaign.
Count 2: I joined the SCLC. I hoodwinked Dr. King. I hoodwinked key staff.
Count 3: I rose within the movement. I wrote policy briefs. I logged secrets shared.
Count 4: I leaked secret data. I supplied the Feds. I said tap here. I said bug there.
Addendum 1: A tap and bug list. _Certified_ taps and bugs-known to Littell. Said bugs and taps-_likely_ known to Lyle Holly.
Count 5: I logged Dr. King's indiscretions. I told Mr. Hoover. He penned a "suicide note." It was mailed to Dr. King. It urged him to take his own life.
Count 6: Mr. Hoover's hate grows. Mr. Hoover's hate deepens. Mr. Hoover's campaign will ascend.
Littell stopped. Littell thought it all through. Littell reassessed.
No-don't snitch BLACK RABBIT. Don't snitch BLUE RABBIT Don't snitch WILD RABBIT's snitch-Klan. Don't exceed credibility. Don't indict yourself. Don't reveal what Lyle might not know.
Count 7: I have done great harm. I despair for Dr. King. I indulge thoughts of _my_ suicide. This letter remains sealed. Staff members will find it. They will send it if I die.
Littell unrolled the document. Littell signed it Lyle D. Holly.
He rolled in an envelope. He typed an address: Chairman/House Judiciary Committee. He rolled out the envelope. He rolled in an envelope. He typed an address: Senator Robert F. Kennedy/Senate Office Building.
It was risky. Bobby ran Justice-'61-'64. Bobby ran Mr. Hoover. Mr. Hoover ran autonomous. Mr. Hoover ran his hate campaign under Bobby's flag. Bobby might thus feel guilty. Bobby might thus feel shame.
Trust Bobby. Trust the risk. Hit the SCLC. Drop the letters. Get the meter stamp.
Wait-then read the papers. Wait-then watch TV.
Bobby might report the leak. _You_ could contact him. _You_ could resurrect anonymously.