Littell squared his necktie. "I want to oversee the buyouts for the pension-book plan, assist in the foreign casino negotiations, and retire. I'm going to ask Carlos formally, but I wanted to get your blessing first."
Sam smiled. Sam stood up. Sam played street mime. He sprayed holy water. He gave Holy Communion. He ran the Stations of the Cross.
"You've got it. _If_ you help us out on one last thing."
"Tell me. I'll do it."
Sam straddled his chair. "We got hurt on the '60 election. I bought Jack West Virginia and Illinois, and he sicced his cocksucking kid brother on us. Now, Johnson's okay, but he's soft on the niggers, and he might not run in '68. The thing is, we're prepared to be very generous to the right candidate, if he pardons Jimmy and helps us out on some other fronts, and we want _you_ to work it out."
Littell inhaled. Littell exhaled. Littell went dead faint.
"Jesus Christ."
Sam scratched his hands. "We want Mr. Hughes to put up 25% of our contribution. We want our guy to agree to a hands-off policy on the Teamsters. We want him to slow down any Fed shit aimed at the Outfit. We want no foreign-policy grief aimed at the countries where we plant our casinos, right- or left-wing."
Littell inhaled. Littell exhaled. Littell went faint-faint.
"When?"
"The '68 primaries. Around that time. You know, the conventions."
A bug jumped. Sam caught it. Sam smashed it.
"Breed no more, you fuck."
o o o
Charts: Profit flow/overhead/debits.
Littell read charts. Littell studied charts. Littell took notes. He worked on the terrace. The view distracted him. He loved Lake Michigan.
The Drake Hotel-two-bedroom suite-on Sam Giancana.
Littell read charts. Fund-book stats jumped. Money lent/money invested/money repaid.
Business targets. Fund-financed. Potential takeover prey. Let's extort said businesses. Let's build foreign casinos. Let's buy a President. Let's shape policy. Let's reverse 1960. Let's spread our bets. Let's cover all odds. Let's subvert left-wing nations.
That was odd-the Outfit leaned right-the Outfit bribed right per said leaning.
Chicago broiled. Wind scoured the lake. Littell ditched his charts. Littell studied briefs.
Appeal briefs-let's keep Jimmy out. Stock briefs-let's get Drac in. It was shit work. It was repetitive. It was post-dead.
He got up. He stretched. He watched Lake Shore Drive. He saw car lights as streamers.
He went by his banks yesterday. He withdrew tithe money. He cut tithe checks. He mailed them. He worried a phone call.
He called Bayard Rustin. He lied off Bogalusa. He did it to protect himself. He did it to protect Pete and Wayne.
He'd read the papers. He saw the news. The church blew "accidental." No one linked Chuck. No one linked WILD RABBIT.
He called Bayard. He dittoed the news. He said a gas main blew. He cited fake sources. Bayard expressed gratitude. Bayard expressed belief. _He_ lied. _He_ lied deftly. _He_ acted late.
The church blew. His late fees accrued-fees for _his_ dead and maimed.
He saw the maimed. Some Feds saw him. Said Feds might inform Mr. Hoover. He got drunk. He killed Chuck. He got sober. He still wanted it. He still tasted it. Liquor signs glowed.
He killed Chuck. He slept twelve hours. He woke up to this: End it. Leave the Life. Cut and run when you can.
Sam said yes. Sam gave his blessing. Sam had stipulations. Carlos might say yes. Carlos might have stipulations.
Tithes/stipulations/election years.
He served Mr. Hoover. They colluded. It spawned BLACK RABBIT. It spawned WILD RABBIT. It spawned dead and maimed. He killed Chuck. Pete braced WILD RABBIT. It was catch-up penance. It was wholly insufficient.
The lake glowed. Cruise boats cruised. He saw bow lights. He saw dance bands. He saw women.
Jane was war now. Jane outflanked him. Jane _knew_ him before he _knew_ her. She knew he stole. She knew he bagged money. She knew he played covert tapes.
She went through his papers. He caught her at it. They retreated. They quashed talk. They quashed confrontations.
Jane had plans. He _knew_ it. She might want to hurt him. She might want to use him. She might want to know him more.
It scared him. It moved him. It made him want her more.
A boat drew close. A band played. A blue dress twirled. Janice wore dresses like that.
She was still bawdy. It was still good. She still served up stories and sex.
She dished Wayne Senior. The details scared him. Wayne Senior was FATHER RABBIT. Janice dished him. Janice loathed him. Janice still felt his hold.
The boat cruised by. The blue dress vanished. Littell called the Sands. Janice was out. Littell called the DI. Littell checked his messages.
One message: Call Lyle Holly-he's at the Riv. Shit-WHITE RABBIT wants you.
Littell got the number. Littell put the call off. Littell prepped a tape. Littell grabbed a spool.
Sam scared him. Sam waxed profane. Bobby/cocksucker/rue the fucking day.
Littell prepped his tape-rig. Littell memory-laned.
Chicago, 1960-the Phantom loves Bobby. Chicago, 1965-Bobby lives on tape.
79
(Las Vegas, 7/20/65)
Tiger teemed.
Scribes pressed Sonny-give us quotes-rag that punk Cassius X. Sonny ignored them. Sonny quaffed Chivas. Sonny pawed mink coats.
Donkey Dom stole them. Donkey Dom sold them. Donkey Dom namedropped. I pop fur shops/I bone Rock Hudson/I poke Sal Mineo.
His bun boy sulked. His bun boy griped hypocritical. His bun boy pimped drag queens full-time.
Wayne watched. Barb watched.
Dom shagged calls. His bun boy buzzed drivers. They juked the noon rush. Sonny bought mink mittens. Sonny bought mink jockstraps. Sonny bought mink earmuffs.
A scribe said, "Are those furs hot?"
Sonny said, "Your mama's hot. I'm your daddy."
A scribe said, "Why don't you join the civil-rights movement?"
Sonny said, "Cause I ain't got no dog-proof ass."
The scribes yukked. Wayne yukked. Barb walked out to the lot. She popped pills. She chased them. She chugged flat 7-Up.
Wayne walked out. Wayne braced her in close.
"Pete's rotating back. You start flying the second he's gone."
Barb stepped back. "Think about what _you_ do, and tell me you disapprove then."
Wayne stepped close. "Look who we sell to."
"Look at _me_. Do I look like one of the junkie whores you've created?"
"I'm looking. I'm seeing lines you didn't have a year ago."
Barb laughed. "I've earned them. I've got fifteen years in the Life."
Wayne stepped back. "You're dodging me."
"No. I'm just saying I've been around longer, and I know how things work better than you."
"Tell Pete that. He won't buy it, but tell him anyway."
Barb stepped close. "You're hooked, not me. You're hooked on the Life, and you still don't know how it works."
Wayne stepped close. They bumped knees. Wayne smelled Barb's soap.
"You're just pissed that there's no place in it for you."
Barb stepped back. "You're going to do things that you won't be able to live with."
"Maybe I have already."
"It gets worse. And you'll do worse things, just to prove you can take it."
o o o
Test run:
Four collections. Four junkie deadbeats. Sonny's collection debut.
Said junkies annexed a church basement. Said junkies had squatters' rights. Their pastor skin-popped Demerol. Said junkies geezed up in church.
Wayne drove. Sonny cleaned his nails with a switchblade. Sonny sipped scotch. West LV sizzled. Folks soaked in kiddie pools. Folks lived in air-cooled cars.