Stanton checked his watch. “Guy, take Teo over for his medical. Teo, go with Mr. Banister. Mr. Boyd will drive you into Miami in a little while.”
Banister hustled Paez out Kemper watched them walk to the X-ray shack.
Stanton shut the door. “Dump the dead man somewhere, Kemper. I’ll debrief all the personnel who’ve seen him. And don’t rattle Guy’s cage, he can be volatile.”
“I’ve heard. Rumor has it that he was assistant superintendent of the New Orleans Police for about ten minutes, until he got drunk and shot off his gun in a crowded restaurant.”
Stanton smiled. “And rumor has it that you’ve fenced a few hot Corvettes in your day.”
“Touché. And parenthetically, what did you think of Pete Bondurant’s gun donation?”
“I was impressed. We’re thinking of making Pete an offer, and I’ll be bringing it up the next time I talk to the deputy director.”
Kemper said, “Pete’s a good man. He’s good at keeping rowdies in line.”
“Yes, he is. Jimmy Hoffa uses him to good effect at that Tiger Kab place. Keep going, Kemper. I can tell that you’ve got your thinking cap on.”
Kemper turned off the tape recorder. “John, you’re going to find that a sizable percentage of those men out there are uncontrollably psychopathic. Your notion of indoctrinating them and training them as potential anti-Castro guerrillas may not work. If you house them with stable Cuban immigrant families and find them work, per your existing plan, you’ll find them reverting to their former criminal predilections as soon as the novelty of being in this country wears off.”
“You’re saying we should screen them more thoroughly.”
“No, I’m saying I should. I’m saying we should extend the detention period at the Agency’s motel, and I should be the one with final authority as to who we recruit.”
Stanton laughed. “May I ask what qualifies you for this?”
Kemper ticked off points on his fingers. “I worked undercover for nine years. I know criminals, and I like them. I infiltrated car theft rings, arrested the members and worked with the U.S. Attorney’s Office in building their cases for prosecution. I understand the need certain criminals have to acquiesce to authority. John, I got so close to some of those car thieves that they insisted on deposing their confessions to me only–the agent who betrayed them and arrested them.”
Stanton whistled–out-of-character for him. “Are you suggesting that you expand your duties and remain with the men you select as their field officer? That seems unrealistic to me, given your other entanglements.”
Kemper slapped the table. “No. I’m strongly proposing Pete Bondurant for that job. What I’m saying is this: A hardcore criminal contingent, properly indoctrinated and supervised, could be very effective. Let’s assume that the Castro problem extends. I think that even at this early date, it’s safe to assume that the Agency will have a large pool of future deportees and legally emigrated Cubans to choose from. Let’s make this first cadre an elite one. It’s ours, John. Let’s make it the best.”
Stanton tapped his chin. “Mr. Dulles was ready to request green cards for all the men. He’d be pleased to know that we’re being so selective early on. He hates begging the INS for favors.”
Kemper put a hand up. “Don’t deport the men we reject Banister knows some Cubans in New Orleans, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. There’s a large Batistaite community there.”
“Then let Guy have the men we reject Let them find jobs or not find jobs, and have them file for visas on their own in Louisiana.”
“How many men do you think will meet your qualifications?’
“I have no idea.”
Stanton looked eager. “Mr. Dulles has approved the purchase of some cheap south Florida land for our initial training site. I think I could convince him to keep our permanent cadre there small and contained, if you think the men you select can also train future arrivals before we disperse them to the other camps that I’m certain will be springing up.”
Kemper nodded. “I’ll make training skills one of my criteria. Where is this land?”
“It’s on the coast, outside a small town named Blessington.”