“Yes. I’ve got a good informant prospect now, and–”
“I don’t want to know specifics just yet. I just want you to convince me that you understand the risks from both within and outside the Bureau, and that you won’t behave foolishly.”
Littell smiled–and almost looked bold. “Hoover would crucify me. If the Chicago Mob knew I was investigating them without sanction, they’d torture and kill me. Kemper, I’ve got a wild notion about where you’re leading me.”
“Tell me.”
“You’re thinking of working for Robert Kennedy for real. He’s gotten to you, and you respect the work he’s doing. You’re going to turn things over a notch and start feeding Hoover a minimum of information and selected misinformation.”
Lyndon Johnson waltzed a redhead by the back booths. He’d seen her before–Jack said he could arrange an introduction.
“You’re right, but it’s the senator I want to work for. Bobby’s more your type. He’s as Catholic as you are, and the Mob is just as much his raison d’être.”
“And you’ll feed Hoover as much information as you deem fit.”
“Yes.”
“The inherent duplicities won’t bother you?”
“Don’t judge me, Ward.”
Littell laughed. “You enjoy my judgments. You enjoy it that someone besides Mr. Hoover has your number. So I’ll warn you. Be careful with the Kennedys.”
Kemper raised his glass. “I will be. And you should know that Jack might damn well be elected President two years from now. If he is, Bobby will have carte blanche to fight organized crime. A Kennedy administration might mean considerable opportunities for both of us.”
Littell raised his glass. “An opportunist like you would know.”
“Salud. Can I tell Bobby that you’ll share your intelligence with the Committee? Anonymously?”
“Yes. And it just hit me that I retire four days before the next presidential inauguration. Should your profligate friend Jack be the one taking office, you might mention a worthy lawyer-cop who needs a job.”
Kemper pulled out an envelope. “You were always a quick study. And you forget that Claire has both our numbers.”
“You’re smirking, Kemper. Read me what you’ve got there.”
Kemper unrolled a sheet of notebook paper. “Quote, ‘And Dad, you wouldn’t believe this one a.m. phone call I got from Helen. Are you sitting down? She had a hot date with Uncle Ward (date of birth March 8, 1913, to Helen’s October 29, 1937) and necked with him in her room. Wait until Susan finds out! Helen’s always sideswiped older men, but this is like Snow White attacking Walt Disney! And I always thought you were the one she had eyes for,’ unquote.”
Littell stood up, blushing. “She’s meeting me later, at my hotel. I told her men liked women who traveled for them. And she’s been the pursuer so far.”
“Helen Agee is a college girl in the guise of a Mack truck. Remember that if things get complicated.”
Littell laughed, and walked off primping. His posture was good, but those dented glasses had to go.
Idealists disdained appearances. Ward had no flair for nice things.
Kemper ordered a second martini and watched the back booths. Echoes drifted his way–congressmen were talking up Cuba.
John Stanton called Cuba a potential Agency hotspot. He said, I might have work for you.
Jack Kennedy walked in. Lyndon Johnson’s redhead passed him a napkin note.
Jack saw Kemper and winked.
Part II
C O L L U S I O N
January 1959–January 1961
12
(Chicago, 1/1/59)
Unidentified Male #1: “Beard, schmeard. All I know is Mo’s real fuckin’ nervous.”
Unidentified Male #2: “The Outfit’s always covered its bets Cuba-wise. Santo T. is Batista’s best fuckin’ friend. I talked to Mo maybe an hour ago. He goes out for the paper and comes back to watch the fuckin’ Rose Bowl on TV. The paper says Happy fuckin’ New Year, Castro has just taken over Cuba and who knows if he’s pro-U.S., pro-Russian or pro-Man-from-Mars.”
Littell tilted his seat back and adjusted his headphones. It was 4:00 p.m. and snowing–but the Celano’s Tailor Shop talkfest talked on.
He was alone at the THP bug post. He was violating Bureau rugs and Mr. Hoover’s direct orders.
Man #1: “Santo and Sam got to be sweating the casinos down there. The gross profit’s supposed to run half a million a day.”