They took a room at the Hollywood-Roosevelt. The Grauman’s Chinese marquee blipped their window.
Pete tripped out of his pants. Barb pulled off her Twist gown. Loose rhinestones hit the floor-Pete gouged his feet on them.
Barb kicked his holster under the bed. Pete pulled the covers down. The stale perfume stuck to the sheets made him sneeze.
She raised her arms and unhooked her necklace. He saw the white-powdered stubble where she shaved.
He pinned her wrists to the wall. She saw what he wanted and let him taste her there.
The taste stung. She flexed her arms so he could have it all.
He felt her nipples. He smelled the sweat dripping off her shoulders.
She pushed her breasts up to him. The big veins and big freckles looked like nothing he’d ever seen. He kissed them and bit them and pushed her into the wall with his mouth.
Her breath went crazy. Her pulse tapped his lips. He slid his hands down her legs and put a finger inside her.
She pushed him off. She stumbled to the bed and lay down crossways. He spread her legs and knelt on the floor between them.
He touched her stomach and her arms and her feet. He felt a pulse every place he touched. She had big veins all over, pulsing out of red hair and freckles.
He jammed his hips into the mattress. The movement got him so hard it hurt.
He tasted her hair. He felt the folds underneath it. He made her pulse go crazy with little bites and nuzzles.
She buckled and thrashed off his mouth. She made crazy funny sounds.
He came without her even touching him. He shook and sobbed and kept tasting her.
She spasmed. She bit through the sheets. She lulled and spasmed, lulled and spasmed, lulled and spasmed. Her back arched and slammed the mattress into the box springs.
He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want to lose the taste of her.
82
The air conditioner short-circuited and died. Kemper woke up sweaty and congested.
He swallowed four Dexedrine. He started building lies immediately.
I didn’t tell you about the links, because:
I didn’t know myself. I didn’t want Jack to get hurt. I only found out recently, and I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie.
The Mob and the CIA?-it boggled my mind when I learned.
The lies felt weak. Bobby would investigate and trace his own links back to ‘59.
Bobby called last night. He said, “Meet me in Miami tomorrow. I want you to show me around JM/Wave.”
Pete called from L.A. a few minutes later. He heard a woman humming a Twist tune in the background.
Pete said he just talked to Santo. Santo told him to hunt down the dope heisters.
“He said find them, Kemper. He said don’t kill them under any circumstances. He didn’t seem too concerned that I might find out the deal was Castro-fmanced.”
Kemper told him to rig another forensic charade. Pete said, I’ll fly to New Orleans and get started. Call me at the Olivier House Hotel or Guy Banister’s office.
Kemper mixed a speedball and snorted it. The coke piggybacked the Dexedrine straight to his head.
He heard cadence counts outside. Laurent pushed the Cubans through calisthenics every morning.
Flash and Juan came up to his chest. Nйstor could fit in his knapsack.
Nйstor shanked a redneck yesterday. All the man did was nick his fender. Nйstor had the post-heist screaming mimis.
Nйstor fled. The cracker survived. Flash said Nйstor stole a speedboat and headed for Cuba.
Nйstor left a note. It said, Save my share of the stuff. I’ll be back when Castro’s dead.
Kemper showered and shaved. His little pick-me-up had the razor jumping.
Lies wouldn’t come.
o o o
Bobby wore dark glasses and a hat. Kemper convinced him to tour JM/Wave incognito.
The AG with shades and a stingy-brim fedora. The AG as Rat Pack reject
They strolled the facility. Bobby’s getup inspired odd looks. Contract men walked by and waved hello.
Lies wouldn’t come.
They toured at a leisurely pace. Bobby kept his famous voice to a whisper. A few Cubans recognized him and played along with the ruse.
Kemper showcased the Propaganda Section. A case officer rattled off statistics. Nobody said, Jack Kennedy is a vacillating sob sister.
Nobody dropped Mob names. Nobody dropped hints that they knew Kemper Boyd before the Bay of Pigs invasion.
Bobby liked the air recon plans. The communications room impressed him.
Lies wouldn’t come. Details wouldn’t mesh with any degree of verisimilitude.
They toured the Map Section. Chuck Rogers walked up, halehearty. Kemper steered Bobby away from him.
Bobby used the men’s room and stormed out in a huff. Somebody scrawled anti-Kennedy remarks above the urinals.
They walked over to the Miami U cafeteria. Bobby bought them coffee and sweet rolls.
College kids carried trays past their table. Kemper forced himself not to fidget-the Dexedrine was surging especially strong.
Bobby cleared his throat. “Say what you’ve been thinking.”
“What?”
“Say that coastal harassment and intelligence gathering aren’t enough. Tell me we need to assassinate Fidel Castro for the three hundredth time and get it out of your system.”
Kemper smiled. “We need to assassinate Fidel Castro. And I’ll memorize your response, so you won’t have to say it again.”
Bobby said, “You know my response. I hate redundancy, and I hate this hat. How does Sinatra manage it?”
“He’s Italian.”
Bobby pointed to some coeds in short shorts. “Don’t they have a dress code here?”
“The code is as little as possible.”
“I should tell Jack. He could address the student body.”
Kemper laughed. “I’m glad to see that you’ve become more accepting.”
“More discerning, maybe.”
“And more specifically disapproving?”
“Touchй.”
Kemper sipped coffee. “Who’s the man been seeing?”
“Some fluff. And a Twist performer Lenny Sands introduced him to.”
“Who isn’t fluff?”
“Let’s say she’s mentally overqualified for some cheap dance craze.”
“You’ve met her?”
Bobby nodded. “Lenny brought her to Peter Lawford’s house in Los Angeles. I got the impression that she thinks a few steps ahead of most people, and Jack always calls me from the Carlyle to say how smart she is, which is not what Jack usually comments on in a woman.”
Lenny, the Twist, L.A.-a puzzling little triad.
“What’s her name?”
“Barb Jahelka. Jack was on the phone with her this morning. He said he called her at 5:00 a.m. L.A. time, and she still managed to come off smart and funny.”
Pete called from L.A. last night A woman was humming “Let’s Twist Again.”
“What is it about her that you disapprove of?”
“Probably just the fact that she doesn’t behave like most of Jack’s quickies.”
Pete was a shakedown man. Lenny was an L.A. show-biz reptile.
“Do you think she’s dangerous in some way?”
“Not exactly. I’m just suspicious because I’m the attorney genera! of the United States, and suspiciousness goes with the job. Why do you care? We’ve given this woman two minutes more than she deserves.”
Kemper crumpled his coffee cup. “I was just steering talk away from Fidel.”
Bobby laughed. “Good. And no, you and our exile friends cannot assassinate him.”
Kemper stood up. “Do you want to look around some more?”
“No. I’ve got a car picking me up. Do you want a lift to the airport?”
“No. I have to make some phone calls.”
Bobby took off his shades. A coed recognized him and squealed.
o o o