Train lights coming-that whistle full blast.

Littell stood tiptoed. A kid jostled him. Littell stepped back. Littell got perspective.

Sparks flew. The train braked. The train stopped and sat. The crowd shoved. Flashbulbs popped. The crowd scattered.

They hit the train. They cupped their eyes. They peeped window slats. Doors cranked open-up and back-the crowd tailed the cop with the gurney.

Littell laughed. Littell knew Drac strategy. Littell knew diversions.

Look:

There's gurney 2. There's tent 2. They're _all_ the way back.

Mormons stepped out. Mormons signaled. Mormons dropped a ramp. Mormons formed a cordon. Mormons pushed a wheelchair. Mormons wheeled Drac.

He's tall. He's thin. He's wearing a Kleenex-box hat.

94

(Las Vegas, 11/27/66)

_He's coming_.

He's off the train. He's in the car. He's got this dumb hat.

Wayne walked the DI. The floor buzzed electric. Ghouls circulated. Wayne logged rumors.

He's overdue. He's due soon. He's due _now_. He's got plane-crash scars. He's got skin disease. He's got neck bolts like Frankenstein.

Ghouls positioned. Ghouls vultured. Ghouls swarmed the casino. Ghouls stood on chairs. Ghouls slung cameras. Ghouls perched with autograph books.

Ghouls swarmed outside. Wayne saw Barb there. Glass walls provided views. Barb saw Wayne. Barb waved. Wayne waved back.

Ghouls prowled. Hotel fuzz prowled. Somebody yelled, "Limos!" Somebody yelled, "_Him!_"

Ghouls whooped. Ghouls dispersed. Ghouls ran outside. Wayne checked the glass walls. Wayne caught a view.

He saw cops. He saw limos. He saw a mock Howard Hughes. He made him. He _popped_ him-back in '62.

He hosted a kid's show. He flashed his dick. He groped prepubescents. Cops called him "Chester the Molester."

Ghouls jumped him. Chester posed for pix magnanimous. Chester signed autographs. A limo eased by. A window went down. Wayne caught a blip: White hair/dead eyes/dumb hat.

Somebody yelled, "He's a fake!" The ghouls up and ran. The ghouls chased the limo.

Barb walked inside. Wayne saw her. Wayne detoured up.

"Aren't you working tonight?"

Barb laughed. "I could ask you the same thing."

Wayne smiled. "I was thinking of Pete and Ward, and how this whole thing started."

Barb yawned. "Tell me over coffee, all right?"

A ghoul ran by. They dodged him. They walked to the bar. They grabbed seats and faced the casino.

A waitress showed. Barb cued her. She brought coffee fast. The floor was slow. Chester shot craps. Ghouls meandered through.

Barb sipped coffee. "It's been months, and I still want a cigarette."

"Not like Pete does."

Chester rolled. Chester crapped out. Chester blew money.

Barb watched him. "There's these secrets that people know."

"Not _everyone_."

Barb unrolled her napkin. Barb twirled her spoon.

"To start, there's a certain city in Texas. Then there's the plans the Outfit has for Mr. Hughes."

Wayne smiled. "Tell me some secrets I don't know."

"For instance?"

"Come on. Pete has half the rooms in Vegas bugged."

Barb twirled her knife. "All right. Donkey Dom's shacked at the Cavern. He's four nights in with Sal Mineo, and they haven't left the suite. Bellboys are bringing them poppers and K-Y. Pete's wondering how long it can last."

Wayne laughed. Wayne checked the floor. Chester rolled. Chester made his point. Chester made money.

Barb smiled. Barb walked. Barb hit the john. Ghouls swarmed Chester. Chester-Hughes magnetized.

Chester sponged love. Chester bowed magnanimous. Chester posed for pix.

Barb walked back. Barb walked unsteady. She sat down. Her lids dipped. Her eyes went smack-back.

She smiled. She twirled her knife. Wayne slapped her. She gripped the knife. She stabbed down. She missed Wayne's hands.

Wayne slapped her. Barb stabbed down. The blade hit the table. It stuck. It twanged. The knife held.

Barb touched her cheek. Barb rubbed her eyes. Barb shot some tears.

Wayne grabbed her hands. Wayne bent her arms. Wayne jerked her head low.

"You're strung out. You're sticking shit up your nose and fucking over Pete every time you do it. You think you're high and mighty because you hate the war and Pete's business, but it's just a bullshit excuse, because you're a no-talent lounge chick with a dope habit and limited fucking-"

Barb jerked her hands. Barb grabbed the knife. Wayne slapped her. She dropped the knife. She rubbed her cheek. She wiped her eyes.

Wayne touched her hair. "I love you. I'm not going to let you fuck yourself over without a fight."

Barb stood up. Barb wiped her eyes. Barb walked off smack-back unsteady.

o o o

Floorshow:

Chester performed. Crowds cliqued up-all drunks and geeks. Chester posed. Chester huckstered Las Vegas. Chester ran airplane crash riffs.

Newsmen bopped by. Newsmen yukked. Fuck you-you're that kidsshow freak.

Wayne watched. Wayne scoped the floor.

He sipped bourbon. He sulked. He sniffed Barb's napkin. He smelled her hand cream. He smelled her bath oil.

Chester signed autographs. Chester riffed on Jane Russell's breasts. Chester eyed little kids.

Wayne sipped bourbon. His thoughts raced. He saw Janice walk by. She still limped. She still strutted. Her gray streak still glowed.

She walked the floor. She fed baby slots. She blew money. She nailed a jackpot. She scooped coins. She tithed a slot-machine bum.

The bum groveled. The bum gave thanks. The bum wore mismatched shoes. The bum braced a baby slot. The bum yanked the arm. The bum blew his dole.

He shrugged. He regrouped. He panhandled. He hit up Chester. Chester said, "Fuck you."

Janice limped. Janice strolled. Janice left Wayne's view. She's out the back door now-dig that golf-course view.

She's heading to Ward's suite. It's a late-night rendezvous.

Wayne sniffed the napkin. Wayne smelled Barb. Wayne got a Janice jolt. His thoughts raced. He vibed rendezvous.

o o o

He drove straight out. The road dipped. He drove eighty-proof. He walked straight in. He grabbed a jug off the bar. He walked straight through.

There's the deck. There's Wayne Senior. He's close to old now. He's sixty-plus. He's old as brand-new.

He's got the same grin. He's got the same chair. He's got the same view.

"You drink from the bottle now. Two years away gets me that."

Wayne grabbed a footstool. "You make it sound like it's the only thing I've learned."

"Not hardly. I get reports, so I know there's more."

Wayne smiled. "You've been putting out feelers."

"You've been rejecting them."

"I guess the time wasn't right."

Wayne Senior smiled. "Howard Hughes and my son the same evening. Be still, my heart."

The stool sat low. Wayne looked straight up.

"Don't labor it. It's just a coincidence."

"No, it's a confluence. Bondurant precipitates Hughes. Hughes means that Ward Littell will be begging favors soon."

Wayne heard gunshots due north. Call it cop familiar. Broke gambler blows town. Broke gambler unwinds.

"Ward doesn't beg. You should know that."

"You're leading me, son. You're trying to get me to praise your exlawyer."

Wayne shook his head. "I'm just trying to steer the conversation."

Wayne Senior toed the footstool. Wayne Senior toed Wayne's knee.

"Shitfire. What's a father-son reunion without a few blunt questions?"

Wayne stood up. Wayne stretched. Wayne kicked the stool.

"How's the hate business?"

"Shitfire. You're more of a hater than I ever was."