A)–TEOFILIO PAEZ himself. DOB 8/6/21. Former Security Chief for United Fruit. Skilled in weaponry and interrogation techniques. Former Cuban Navy frogman. Adept at political recruitment.
B)–TOMAS OBREGON. DOB 1/17/30. Former Castro guerrilla. Former Havana dope courier and bank robber. Skified in Jujitsu and the manufacture of explosives.
C)–WILFREDO OLMOS DELSOL. DOB 4/9/27. OBREGON’s cousin. Former leftist firebrand turned rightist zealot when his bank accounts were “Nationalized.” Former Cuban Army drill instructor. Small arms weaponry expert.
D)–RAMON GUTIERREZ. DOB 10/24/19. Pilot. Skilled propaganda pamphieteer. Former torturer for Batista’s Secret Police. Expert in counterinsurgency techniques.
3.–I’ve toured the area surrounding the land the Agency purchased for the Blessington campsite. It is impoverished and inhabited by poor white trash, a fair number of them Ku Klux Klan members. I think we need an impressive white man to run the campsite, a man capable of instilling fear in any local rednecks who become perturbed at the notion of Cuban emigres squatting in their bailiwick. I recommend Pete Bondurant. I checked his World War II Marine Corps record and was impressed: he survived fourteen hand-to-hand combat charges on Saipan, won the Navy Cross and rose from buck private to captain via field commission. I strongly urge you to hire Bondurant on an Agency contract basis.
That’s all for now. I’ll be at the St. Regis in New York if you need me.
Yours,
KB
PS: You were right about Castro’s U.S. trip. He refused to register in a hotel that didn’t admit Negroes, then went up to Harlem and began issuing anti-U.S. statements. His behavior at the U.N. was deplorable. I salute your prescience: the man was “forcing a rejection.”
DOCUMENT INSERT: 5/12/59. Memo: John Stanton to Kemper Boyd.
Kemper,
The Deputy Director has approved the hiring of Pete Bondurant. I have minor qualms, and I want you to send him on a trial run of some sort before we approach him. Use your own discretion.
JS
23
(Chicago, 5/18/59)
Helen buttered a slice of toast. “Susan’s slow burn is getting to me. I don’t think we’ve spoken more than three or four times since she heard about us.”
Mad Sal was due to call. Littell pushed his breakfast aside–he had absolutely no appetite.
“I’ve spoken to her exactly twice. Sometimes I think it’s a pure tradeoff–I gained a girlfriend and lost a daughter.”
“You don’t seem too bothered by the loss.”
“Susan feeds on resentment. She’s like her mother that way.”
“Claire told me Kemper’s having an affair with some rich New York City woman, but she won’t divulge details.”
Laura Hughes was one-half Kennedy. Kemper’s Kennedy incursion was now a two-front campaign.
“Ward, you’re very remote this morning.”
“It’s work. It preoccupies me.”
“I’m not so sure.”
It was almost 9:00–7:00 a.m. Gardena time. Sal was an inveterate early-bird gambler.
Helen waved her napkin at him. “Yoo-hoo, Ward! Are you listening to–?”
“What are you saying? What do you mean, ‘I’m not so sure’?”
“I mean your Red Squad work bores and vexes you. You always describe it with contempt, but for months you’ve been engrossed in it.”
“And?”
“And you’ve been having nightmares and mumbling in Latin in your sleep.”
“And?”
“And you’re starting to hide out from me when we’re in the same room. You’re starting to act like you’re forty-six and I’m twenty-one, and there’s things you can’t tell me, because I just wouldn’t understand.”
Littell took her hands. Helen pulled them away and knocked a napkin holder off the table.
“Kemper tells Claire everything. I would think that you’d try to emulate him that way.”
“Kemper is Claire’s father. I’m not yours.”
Helen stood up and grabbed her purse. “I’ll think about that on my way home.”
“What happened to your 9:30 class?”
“It’s Saturday, Ward. You’re so ‘preoccupied’ that you don’t know what day it is.”
o o o
Sal called at 9:35. He sounded agitated.
Littell made nice to calm him down. Sal enjoyed sweet talk.
“How’s the tour going?”
“A junket’s a junket. Gardena’s good ‘cause it’s close to L.A., but fuckin’ Jewboy Lenny keeps taking off to dig up shit for Hush-Hush and keeps showing up late for his gigs. You think I should slice him like I did that guy who–”