Joe nodded. Jack and Bobby nodded.
“I think it’s a smart, cautious move. And while I’ve got the floor, I’d like to bring up the Cuban issue. Eisenhower and Nixon have declared themselves anti-Castro, and I’ve been thinking that Jack should establish some anti-Fidel credentials.”
Joe fiddled with his tie pin. “Everybody’s starting to hate Castro. I don’t see Cuba as a partisan issue.”
Jack said, “Dad’s right. But I’ve been thinking that I might send some Marines down if I’m elected.”
Joe said, “When you’re elected.”
“Right. I’ll send some Marines down to liberate the whorehouses. Kemper can lead the troops. I’ll have him establish a spearhead in Havana.”
Joe winked. “Don’t forget your spear, Kemper.”
“I won’t. And seriously, I’ll keep you posted on the Cuban front. I know some ex-FBI men with good anti-Castro intelligence.”
Bobby brushed hair off his forehead. “Speaking of FBI men, how’s the Phantom?”
“In a word, he’s persistent. He’s chasing those Pension Fund books, but he’s not making much headway.”
“He’s starting to impress me as pathetic.”
“Believe me, he’s not.”
“Can I meet him?”
“Not until he retires. He’s afraid of Mr. Hoover.”
Joe said, “We all are.”
Everybody laughed.
o o o
The St. Regis was a slightly downscale Carlyle. Kemper’s suite was a third the size of the Kennedys’. He kept a room at a modest hotel in the West 40s-Jack and Bobby contacted him there.
It was stifling hot outside. The suite was a perfect 68 degrees.
Kemper wrote a note to Mr. Hoover. He said, It’s confirmed-if elected, Jack Kennedy won’t fire you. He played a game of Devil’s Advocate next-his standard post-Kennedyconference ritual.
Doubters questioned his travels. Doubters questioned his complex allegiances.
He sprang logical traps on himself and evaded them brilliantly.
He was seeing Laura tonight-for dinner and a recital at Carnegie Hall. She’d ridicule the pianist’s style and practice his showstopper piece endlessly. It was the Kennedy quintessence: Compete, but don’t go public unless you can win. Laura was halfKennedy and a woman-she possessed competitive spirit but no family sanction. Her half-sisters married skirt chasers and stayed faithful; Laura had affairs. Laura said Joe loved his girls but deep down considered them niggers.
He’d been with Laura for seven months now. The Kennedys had no iniding of the liaison. When an engagement was formal ized, he’d tell them.
They would be shocked, then relieved. They considered him trustworthy and knew that he kept things compartmentalized.
Laura loved ballsy men and the arts. She was a solitary woman-with no real friends except Lenny Sands. She exemplifled the pervasive Kennedy orbit: A mobbed-up lounge lizard gave Jack speech lessons and forged a bond with his half-sister.
That bond was borderline scary. Lenny might tell Laura things. Lenny might tell her grisly stories.
Laura never mentioned Lenny-despite the fact that he facilitated their meeting.
She probably talked to Lenny long-distance.
Lenny was volatile. An angry or frightened Lenny might say:
Mr. Boyd made Mr. Littell hit me. Mr. Boyd and Mr. Littell are nasty extortionists. Mr. Boyd got me my Hush-Hush job-which is very nasty employment.
His Lenny fears peaked in late April.
The Boynton Beach auditions revealed two security risks: a child molester and a homosexual pimp. CIA guidelines mandated termination. He took them out to the Everglades and shot them.
The pimp saw it coming and begged. He shot him in the mouth to cut his squeals off.
He told Claire he killed two men in cold blood. She responded with anti-Communist platitudes.
The pimp reminded him of Lenny. The pimp sparked Devil’s Advocate impromptus that he couldn’t lie his way out of.
Lenny could ruin him with Laura. Further coercion might backfire-Lenny was volatile.
There was no cut-and-dried Lenny solution. Easing Laura’s loneliness might help-she’d be less inclined to contact Lenny.
He brought Claire up from Tulane and introduced her to Laura in mid-May. She was wowed by Laura-a big-city sophisticate ten years her senior. A friendship clicked-the two became great phone chums. Claire joined Laura for occasional weekends, full of concerts and museum tours.
He traveled to earn his three paychecks. His daughter kept his future fiancйe company.
Laura told Claire her whole story. Claire inspired full disclosure. Claire was wowed-My Dad might be the President’s secret brother-in-law someday.
He pimped for the maybe future President. Jack went through his little black book and sideswiped a hundred women inside six months. Sally Lefferts called Jack a de facto rapist. “He backs you into a corner and charms you until you’re plain bushed. He convinces you that turning him down would make you just about the most worthless female who ever lived.”
His little black book was near-depleted. Mr. Hoover might tell him to fix Jack up with FBI-plant call girls.
It might happen. If Jack’s campaign flourished, Mr. Hoover might simply say, “DO IT.”
The phone rang. Kemper caught it on the second ring.
“Yes?”
A long-distance line crackled. “Kemper? It’s Chuck Rogers. I’m at the stand, and something happened I figured you should know about.”
“What?”
“Those pro-Castro guys I fired cruised by last night and shot up the parking lot. We were damn lucky nobody got hurt. Fulo says he thinks they’ve got a hole-up someplace close.”
Kemper stretched out on the couch. “I’ll be down in a few days. We’ll fix things up.”
“Fix things how?”
“I want to convince Jimmy to sell the stand to the Agency. You’ll see. We’ll work something out with him.”
“I say let’s be decisive. I say we can’t lose face in the Cuban community by letting Commie shitheads shoot at us.”
“We’ll send them a message, Chuck. You won’t be disappointed.”
o o o
Kemper let himself in with his key. Laura left the terrace doors open-concert lights had Central Park sparkling.
It was too simple and too pretty. He’d seen some Cuban reconnaissance shots that put it to shame.
They showed United Fruit buildings torched against a night sky. The pictures were pure raw spellbinding-
Something said:
Check Laura’s phone bills.
He rifled her study drawers and found them. She’d called Lenny Sands eleven times within the past three months.
Something said, Convince yourself decisively.
It was most likely nothing. Laura never mentioned Lenny or ncted in any way suspicious.
Something said, Make her tell you.
o o o
They sat down to martinis. Laura was sunburned from a long day shopping.
She said, “How long were you waiting?”
Kemper said, “About an hour.”
“I called you at the St. Regis, but the switchboard man said you’d left already.”
“I felt like a walk.”
“When it’s so grisly hot out?”
“I had to check my messages at the other hotel.”
“You could have called the desk and asked for them.”
“I like to show myself every so often.”
Laura laughed. “My lover’s a spy.”
“Not really.”
“What would my ersatz family think if they knew you had a suite at the St Regis?”
Kemper laughed. “They’d consider it imitative, and wonder how I could afford it.”
“I’ve wondered myself. Your FBI pension and salary from the family aren’t that generous.”
Kemper put a hand on her knees. “I’ve been lucky in the stock market. I’ve said it before, Laura. If you’re curious, ask.”
“All right, I will. You’ve never mentioned taking walks before, so why did you take a walk on the hottest day of the year?”