I'm heading back to Saigon. Pouch all future communications through my P0. box at Arlington. We'll use drops cutout couriers from here on in. Remember: We're Stage 1 Covert, like our Tiger ops in Miami. You know the old drilclass="underline" Read, memorize burn.
Thumbs up on MESPLEDE, if you think he fits in. You can recruit the rest of the team on your own autonomy Per MESPLEDE: Watch out. His curriculum vitae is a bit scary.
For the Cause,
(Mexico City, 10/2/64)
A Mex brought coffee. Said Mex kissed ass. Big teeth/big bows/big compliance.
Pete lounged. Pete noshed rolls. Pete taped his piece under the table. The trigger sat flush. The silencer worked. The barrel faced the opposite seat.
Pete sipped coffee. Pete rubbed his head. Mexico City-nyet
It's a skunk zone. It's rife with dog turds. Give me pre-Castro Havana.
He looked for Flash and Laurent. He tapped out. He dropped a note. Mesplиde dropped a note back:
Let's talk-I've heard about you.
He killed time. He called Barb every day. He called the K.C. Local. He dropped names. He asked questions-per Arden Elaine Bruvick.
The gist: She was Frau Danny Bruvick. Danny ran Local 602-'53-'56. Danny stole Teamster money. Danny split. Jimmy H. decreed a hit. Danny vanished. Arden stayed in K.C.
Jimmy pulled strings. The KCPD popped Arden. Arden bailed out fast. Arden split K.C.
Pete knew a KCPD guy. Pete called him. He ran Arden's bail stats. He called Pete back.
Arden bailed out-3/10/56. The T C Corp bailed her. Carlos M. owned T C. T C was his tax front.
A frayed cord. A teaser. Carlos says, "Clip Arden." His front corp bails her.
Get more. Learn more. Don't warn Littell _yet_. The cord felt thin. The cord could fray. The cord could strip.
A man walked in. He was fat. He wore glasses. His hands were smudged black. Odds on: French Para tattoos.
Para pit dogs-_trиs_ French-fangs and parachutes.
Pete stood up. The man saw him. The man grabbed a front table.
Pete ad-libbed:
He crouched. He untaped his gun. He reholstered and walked over. He bowed to the man. They shook hands. The pit dogs had red eyes.
They sat down. Mesplиde said, "You know Chuck Rogers."
"Chuck's a piece of work."
"He lives with his parents. A man more than forty years old."
He sounded _sud-Midi_. He looked _marseillais_. He dressed _trиs fasciste_-all-black ensemble.
Pete said, "He's a committed man."
"Yes. You can forgive his more outlandish beliefs."
"He's got a sense of humor about them."
"The Ku Klux Klan disgusts me. I enjoy Negro jazz."
"I like Cuban music."
"I like Cuban food and Cuban women."
"Fidel Castro should die."
"Yes. He is a _cochon_ and a _pйdй_."
"I saw Pigs. I ran troops out of the Blessington campsite."
Mesplиde nodded. "Chuck told me. You shot _communistes_ out an airplane window."
Pete laughed. Pete mimed gunshots. Mesplиde lit a Gauloise. Mesplиde offered one.
Pete lit up. Pete coughed-it was rolled muskrat shit.
"What else did Chuck tell you?"
"That you were a committed man."
"That's all?"
"He also said that you, _qu'est-ce que c'est?_, 'snipped links.'"
Pete smiled. Pete showed his pix. There's Jack Z. trussed up. There's Hank the K. dumped.
Mesplиde tapped them. "Unfortunate men. They saw things they should not."
Pete coughed. Pete blew smoke rings.
Mesplиde coughed. "Chuck said the blond woman killed herself in jail."
"That's right."
"You did not take her picture?"
"No."
"Then Arden is the only one left."
Pete shook his head. "She's unfindable."
"No one is that."
"She has to be."
Mesplиde chained cigarettes. "I saw her once before, in New Orleans. She was with one of Carlos Marcello's men."
"She's unfindable. Leave it at that."
Mesplиde shrugged. Mesplиde dropped his hands. There's the click. There's the slide. There's the hammer back.
Pete smiled. Pete bowed. Pete showed his gun. Mesplиde smiled. Mesplиde bowed. Mesplиde showed _his_ gun.
Pete grabbed a napkin. Pete draped the table. Pete covered the guns.
Mesplиde said, "Your note mentioned work."
Pete cracked his knuckles. "Heroin. We move it from Laos to Saigon and funnel it to the States. It's Agency-adjunct and completely unsanctioned. All the profits go to the Cause."
"Our colleagues?"
"We work under a man named John Stanton. I've run dope and exiles for him. We bring in Laurent Guйry, Flash Elorde, and an ex-cop to do the chemical work."
A whore walked by. Said whore looked down. Mesplиde flashed his tattoos. He flexed his hands. The dogs snapped. The dogs grew big _chorizos_.
The whore crossed herself. The whore buzzed off-_gringos malo y feo!_
Mesplиde said, "I am interested. I am devoted to the cause of a free Cuba."
"_Mort a Fidel Castro. Vive l'entente franco-amйricaine_."
Mesplиde grabbed a fork. Mesplиde cleaned his nails.
"Chuck described you as 'soft on women.' I will concede the unfindability of Arden if you further prove your loyalty to the Cause."
"How?"
"Hank Hudspeth has defrauded the Cause. He has sold faulty weaponry to exile groups and has diverted the good merchandise to the Klan."
Pete said, "I'll take care of it."
Mesplиde flexed his hands. The dogs went priapic.
"I would appreciate a memento."
o o o
The setup worked-let's talk guns-my money/your stuff.
Pete called from Houston. Hank was eager. He said catch you a plane. I got a bunker near Polk.
Pete flew to De Ridder. Pete rented a car. Pete hit a Safeway. Pete bought a cooler. Pete bought dry ice.
He hit the local PO. He bought a box. He air-mail-stamped it. He wrote Jean Mesplиde's address on top.
He hit a gun shop. He bought a Buck knife. He hit a camera store. He bought a Polaroid. He bought some film.
He drove north. He took back roads. He cut through the Kisatchee Forest. It was hot-80 at dusk.
Hank met him. Hank was eager-I got the stuff!
The bunker was a mine shaft. Part gun hut/part igloo. Ten steps below ground.
Hank walked ahead. Hank hit the top step. Pete pulled his piece and shot him in the back.
Hank tumbled. Pete shot him again. Pete blew his ribs out.
He turned him over. He prepped his camera. He snapped a close-up. The bunker was hot-paved walls in tight.
Pete pulled his knife. Pete stretched Hank's hair. Pete cut side to side.
He notched the blade. He hit the bone. He sheared over and up. He stepped on Hank's head. He jerked hard. He pulled his scalp up.
He wiped it off. He dry-iced it. He boxed it. His hands shook-firsttimer shakes-he'd scalped a hundred Reds.
He wiped his hands. He inscribed the snapshot. He wrote "Viva la Causa!" on the back.