They danced nice. They danced hip. They danced by the table. Barb was loose. Barb was cool. Barb wore white dust on her nose.

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 9/16/65. Verbatim FBI telephone call transcript. (OPERATION BLACK RABBIT Addendum.) Marked: "Recorded at the Director s Request" / "Classified Confidential 1-A: Director's Eyes Only." Speaking: Director, BLUE RABBIT.

DIR: Good morning.

BR: Good morning, Sir.

DIR: Let's discuss WILD RABBIT's work in Mississippi. The oxymoronic phrase "Redneck Intelligence Network" comes to mind.

BR: WILD RABBIT has been doing well, Sir. Our stipends have allowed him to recruit and secure intelligence, and FATHER RABBIT has supplied him with funds as well. He told me that he's donating a portion of his hate-tract profits to WILD RABBIT's incursion.

DIR: And the well-funded WILD RABBIT is achieving results?

BR: He is, Sir. His Regal Knights have been infiltrating other hate groups and supplying WILD RABBIT with information. I think we'll have some mail-fraud indictments before too long.

DIR: FATHER RABBIT's donations are in part self-serving. He aids WILD RABBIT's cause and depletes the resources of his hatetract rivals.

BR: Yes, Sir.

DIR: Is WILD RABBIT remaining tractable?

BR: He is, although I've learned that he's running weaponry to Pete Bondurant's narcotics cadre. As I understand it, he secures the weapons from armory heists and army base pilfering, which is odd, because I haven't been able to find any recently filed reports on such incidents, anywhere in the south.

DIR: Yes, odd does describe it. That said, do you think WILD RABBIT will retain an acceptable level of deniability pertaining to his gun-running activities?

BR: I do, Sir. But should I tell him to stop?

DIR: No. I like his connection to Bondurant. Remember, we'll be approaching Le Grand Pierre when we move BLACK RABBIT into the shakedown phase.

BR: I heard that he had a heart attack last month.

DIR: A pity. And the prognosis?

BR: I think it's guardedly positive, Sir.

DIR: Good. We'll let him recover and then add some stress to his overtaxed arteries.

BR: Yes, Sir.

DIR: Let's discuss CRUSADER RABBIT. Have you accrued any substantive data?

BR: Yes and no, Sir. We've gotten nothing off the spot tails and the trash and mail covers, and I'm convinced that he's too technically skilled to bug and tap. He's retained his friendship with PINK RABBIT and visits him in D.C., which is hardly incriminating, since you urged him to do so.

DIR: Your tone betrays you. You're tantalizing me. Shall I hazard a guess?

BR: Please do, Sir.

DIR: Your revelations pertain to CRUSADER's women.

BR: That's correct, Sir.

DIR: Expand your answers, please. I have a lunch date in the year 2000.

BR: CRUSADER has been seeing Janice Lukens, FATHER RABBIT's ex-wife, in Las-

DIR: We know that. Pray continue.

BR: He lives with a woman in Los Angeles. Her alleged name is Jane Fentress.

DR: "Alleged" is correct. I helped to establish her identity two years ago. A New Orleans agent planted her college transcript.

BR: There's much more to her, Sir. I think she could serve as our wedge if we need to disrupt CRUSADER.

DIR: Expand your thoughts. The millennium bodes.

BR: I had her spot-tailed. My man took a set of prints off a glass she left at a restaurant. We ran them and got her real name, Arden Louise Breen, B-R-E-E-N, married name Bruvick, B-R-U-V-I-C-K.

DIR: Continue.

BR: Her father was a left-wing unionist. The Teamsters killed him in '52, and it's still a St. Louis PD unsolved. Allegedly, the woman held no grudge against the Teamsters, allegedly because her father forced her to become a call-house prostitute. She absconded on a KCPD receiving stolen goods warrant in '56, at the same time her husband embezzled some money from a Kansas City Teamster local and disappeared.

DIR: Continue.

BR: Here's the ripe part. Carlos Marcello's front corporation bailed her out on the Kansas City bounce. She disappeared then, she's got a bookkeeping background, and she's rumored to have had a long-term affair with that old Mob hand Jules Schiffrin.

DIR: Boffo news, Dwight. Well worth your vexing preambles.

BR: Thank you, Sir.

DIR: I think your tale boils down to one salient truth. Carlos Marcello does not trust CRUSADER RABBIT.

BR: I came to that conclusion, Sir.

DIR: Pull the tails, along with the trash and mail covers. If we need to get at CRUSADER, we'll go through the woman.

BR: Yes, Sir.

DIR: Good day, Dwight.

BR: Good day, Sir.

86

(Saravan, 9/22/65)

Torture:

Six slaves strapped down. Six Cong-symps wired. Six hot seats / six juice buttons / six testicle feeds.

Mesplиde worked the juice box. Mesplиde ran the juice. Mesplиde asked the questions. Mesplиde talked franglogook.

Pete watched. Pete chewed Nicorette gum. It was wet and hot-rainstorm boocoo. The hut sponged heat. The hut stored heat. The hut was a hot-plate boocoo.

Mesplиde talked gook. Mesplиde talked threat. Mesplиde talked fast. His words slurred-gobblede_GOOK_.

Pete knew the gist. Pete wrote the script. Pete read six faces.

Slaves escape. All pro-Cong. Who let them? I no know!-all six say it-I know no who!

It droned on-you tell me!-no no! Pete watched. Pete chewed gum. Pete read eyes.

Mesplиde lit a Gauloise. Pete cued him. Mesplиde hit the buttons. Juice flooowed.

Testicle ticklers-black box to balls-nonlethal volts. Gooks tingle. Gooks absorb. Gooks yell boocoo.

Mesplиde cut the juice. Mesplиde pidgin-gooked: Congs run! Steal Mbase! Tell what you know!

The gooks buzzed. The gooks squirmed. The gooks afterglowed. Talk now! You tell me! Tell what you know! Six gooks jabbered-this gook ensemble-we no know who!

One gook squeals. One gook yips. One gook salivates. Loincloths to ankles/grounded gonads/feed plugs to feet. One gook squirms. One gook prays. One gook urinates.

Pete cued Mesplиde. Mesplиde hit the buttons. Juice flooowed.

The gooks buckle. The gooks absorb. The gooks gyrate. The gooks scream. The gooks thrash and pop veins.

Pete cogitated. Pete chewed gum. Pete brainstormed eyes shut.

Tran tells Wayne-slaves escape-steal M-base boocoo. They cook it. They dump it. Fuck up our GIs boocoo.

But:

You don't dump Big "H." You _sell_ it.

And:

Wayne rotates home. Wayne's lab is empty. Rival dope cooks could sneak in. Said cooks could utilize. Said cooks could appropriate.

Surveille the lab-do it soon-before _you_ rotate.

Mesplиde coughed. "Has that chewing gum put you in a trance, Pierre?"

Pete opened his eyes. "One of them has to know something. Ask them _why_ the guys ran, and turn up the juice if they shit you."

Mesplиde smiled. Mesplиde coughed. Mesplиde pidgin-gooked. He talked fast. He blurred inflections. He fastballed his words.

Gooks listen. Good absorb. Gooks say: No No No No-

Mesplиde hit the buttons. Juice flowed. Near-lethal volts. The gooks screamed. Their nuts flushed. Their nuts swelled.

Mesplиde cuts the juice. Gooks absorb pain. Gook 5 talks ricky-tick. Mesplиde smiles. Mesplиde absorbs. Mesplиde translates.

"He said he woke up and saw Tran pull them out of the hut. Tran… _qu'est-ce_… forced them to run, and he heard shots a few minutes later."

Pete spit his gum out. "Cut them loose. Give them some extra beans for dinner."

Mesplиde said, "I appreciate compassion."

o o o

The hills hurt.

He breathed hard. He walked slow. He trailed back. Mesplиde walked fast. Two guards flanked him.