He could afford Laura now. He had three paychecks and two full-time hotel suites. He had a low six-figure bank-account balance.
And if Trafficante says yes…
o o o
Trafficante understood abstract concepts.
“Self-budgeted,” “autonomous” and “compartmentalized” amused him.
“Agency-aligned pharmacological sources” made him laugh outright.
He wore a nubby-weave silk suit. His office was turned out in blond-wood Danish modern.
He loved Kemper’s plan. He grasped its political thrust immediately.
The meeting extended. A yes-man served anisette and pastry.
Their conversation veered in odd directions. Trafficante critiqued the Big Pete Bondurant myth. The paper bag by Kemper’s feet went unmentioned.
The yes-man served espresso and Courvoisier VSOP. Kemper marked the moment with a bow.
“Raul Castro sent this in, Mr. Trafficante. Pete and I want you to have it, as a symbol of our good faith.”
Trafficante picked up the bag. He smiled at the weight and gave it a few little squeezes.
Kemper swirled his brandy. “If Castro is eliminated as a direct or indirect result of our efforts, Pete and I will insure that your contribution is recognized. More importantly, we’ll try to convince the new Cuban ruler to allow you, Mr. Giancana, Mr. Marcello and Mr. Rosselli to regain control of your casinos and build new ones.”
“And if he refuses?”
“We’ll kill him.”
“And what do you and Pete want for all your hard work?”
“If Cuba is liberated, we want to split 5% of the profits from the Capri and Nacional Hotel casinos in perpetuity.”
“Suppose Cuba stays Communist?”
“Then we get nothing.”
Trafficante bowed. “I’ll talk to the other boys, and of course, my vote is ‘Yes.’”
32
(Chicago, 9/4/59)
Littell picked up static interference. House-to-car bug feeds always ran rough.
The signal fed in from fifty yards out. Sid Kabikoff wore the microphone taped to his chest.
Mad Sal had arranged the meet. Sam G. insisted on his apartment–take it or leave it. Butch Montrose met Sid on the stoop and walked him up to the left-rear unit.
The car was broiling. Littell kept his windows up as a sound filter.
Kabikoff: “You’ve got a nice place, Sam. Really, what a choice pad-a-terre.”
Littell heard scratching noise–flush on the mike. He visualized the at-the-source cause.
Sid’s stretching the tape. He’s rubbing those bruises I inflicted down in Texas.
Giancana’s voice came in garbled. Littell thought he heard Mad Sal mentioned.
He tried to find Sal this morning. He cruised his collection turf and couldn’t locate him.
Montrose: “We know you knew Jules Schiffrin back in the old days. We know you know some of the boys, so it’s like you’re recommended from the gate.”
Kabikoff: “It’s like a loop. If you’re in the loop you’re in the loop.”
Cars boomed by. Windowpanes rattled close to the feed-in.
Kabikoff: “Everybody in the loop knows I’m the best smut man in the West. Everybody knows Sid the Yid’s got the bestlooking cunt and the boys with the putzes down to their knees.”
Giancana: “Did Sal tell you to ask for a Pension Fund loan specific?”
Kabikoff: “Yeah, he did.”
Montrose: “Is Sal in some kind of money trouble, Sid?”
Traffic noise covered the signal. Littell timed it at six seconds even.
Montrose: “I know Sal’s in the loop, and I know the loop’s the loop, but I’m also saying my own little love shack got burglarized in January, and I got rammed for fourteen Gs out of my fucking golf bag.”
Giancana: “And in April some friends of ours got clouted for eighty grand they had stashed in a locker. You see, right after these hits Sal started spending new money. Butch and me just put it together, sort of circumstantially.”
Littell went lightheaded. His pulse went haywire.
Kabikoff: “No. Sal wouldn’t do something like that. No… he wouldn’t…”
Montrose: “The loop’s the loop and the Fund’s the Fund, but the two ain’t necessarily the same thing. Jules Schiffrin’s with the Fund, but that don’t mean he’d roll over for a loan for you, just because you shared spit way back when.”
Giancana: “We sort of think somebody’s trying to get at Jimmy Hoffa and the Fund through a goddanm fake loan referral. We talked to Sal about it, but he didn’t have nothing to say.”