NDK:… like a kitty, I mean.

RMDJ: I get it. Guys pitch in, you watch the kitty grow.

NDK: We don't pitch in. Guys with real coin do, until you got a big enough pot to attract a guy who can do it.

RMDJ: Right. It's a bounty. The word goes out that it's there, you do the job, you prove you did it, you collect.

NDK: Right. You attract a pro, and he gets away with it. It's not like Oswald, you know with Kennedy.

RMDJ: Oswald was a Commie and a psycho. He wanted to get caught.

NDK: Right. And people loved Kennedy.

RMDJ: Well, some people. Personally, I hated the son-of-abitch.

NDK: You know what I'm saying. With King you got a nigger that everyone hates. The only white people who don't hate him are some Jews and pinkos, but every other white person knows that integration will put this country in the toilet, so you get rid of Public Nuisance Number One and nip that eventuality in the bud.

RMDJ: He's dead, the country rejoices.

NDK: You put the word out. That's the thing.

RMDJ: Yeah, the bounty.

NDK: We ain't got the scratch, but there's guys around here who do.

RMDJ: He's begging for it.

NDK: That's the part I like. You beg for it, you get it.

(Non-applicable conversation follows.)

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 6/14/67. Hate-mail extract. Compiled by: FATHER RABBIT. Sealed and marked: "Destroy Without Reading in the Event of My Death."

Mail sender: Anonymous. Postmark: Pasadena, California. Recipient: Senator Robert F. Kennedy. From page 1 (of 19):

I KNOW THAT YOU THE ZIONIST WORLDWIDE PIG ORDER HAVE PUT THE PUS IN THE JEWISH CANCER MACHINE AND GAVE ME HEADACHES, NOT FALLS FROM HORSES AS DR'S BELIEVE. YOU SAY THAT ALLAH DRIVES AN IMPALA BUT I KNOW THAT THE JEWISH CONTROL APPARATUS CONTROLS AUTOMOBILE PRODUCTION IN DETROIT AND BEVERLY HILLS. YOU ARE A PUS PUPPET IN THE CONTROL OF THE JEWISH VAMPIRE AND MUST STOP EMITTING HEADACHES IN THE NAME OF THE CHIEF RABBI OF LODZ AND MIAMI BEACH AND THE PROTOCOLS OF THE LEARNED ELDERS OF ZION.

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 7/5/67. Hate-mail extract. Compiled by: FATHER RABBIT. Sealed and marked: "Destroy Without Reading in the Event of My Death."

Mail sender: Anonymous. Postmark: St. Louis, Missouri. Recipient: Dr. M. L. King. From page 1 (of 1):

Dear Nigger,

You better fear the ides of July and June;

There's going to be a bounty on you, Coon;

You're a traitor and a Commie and an evil ape;

All you do is lie, steal and rape;

But the White Man's wise to your evil ways;

The bounty means you'd better pray and count your days;

You can't dodge bullets like Superman;

You can't run away from the White Man's Plan;

When you get this letter you better hide;

Because you can't escape the White Man's fearless tide.

Signed,

U.W.M.A. (United White Men of America)

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 7/21/67. Hate-mail extract. Compiled by: FATHER RABBIT. Sealed and marked: "Destroy Without Reading in the Event of My Death."

Mail sender: Anonymous. Postmark: Pasadena, California. Recipient: Senator Robert F. Kennedy From page 2 (of 16):

[And] YOU HAVE BETRAYED THE ARAB PEOPLE AND STOLEN OUR LAND OF MILK AND HONEY TO MILK PUS FROM THE WORLDWIDE ZIONIST PIG ORDER AND THE JEWISH CANCER MACHINE. BAYER ASPIRIN AND BUFFERIN AND ST. JUDE'S HOSPITAL CANNOT STOP MY HEADACHES FROM THE PUS INFLICTED BY THE JEWISH VAMPIRE AND CANNOT HEAR ME SAY RFK MUST DIE RFK MUST DIE RFK MUST DIE RFK MUST DIE RFK MUST DIE RFK MUST DIE RFK MUST DIE RFK MUST DIE!!!!!!!!!!!

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 7/23/67. Boston _Globe_ headline and subhead:

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 7/29/67. Detroit _Free Press_ headline and subhead:

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 7/30/67. Boston _Globe_ headline and subhead:

KING TO PRESS:

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 8/2/67. Washington _Post_ subhead:

RIOT DAMAGE MOUNTS; POLICE CALL DISTRICT "COMBAT ZONE"

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 8/5/67. Los Angeles _Times_ headline and subhead:

KING ON RIOTS:

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 8/6/67. Telephone call transcript. Taped by: BLUE RABBIT. Marked: "FBI-Scrambled" / "Stage- 1 Covert" / "Destroy Without Reading in the Event of My Death." Speaking: BLUE RABBIT, FATHER RABBIT.

BR: Senior, hi.

FR: How are you, Dwight? It's been a while.

BR: Don't mind the clicks. My scrambler's on the fritz.

FR: I don't mind. I'd rather talk than mess with pouches.

BR: Have you been watching the news? The natives are restless.

FR: King predicted it.

BR: No, he promised it, and now he's gloating.

FR: He's making enemies. There's times I think we might not get there first.

BR: There's times I agree. The Outfit hates him, and every cracker in captivity has got his tits in a twist. You should hear my listening-post tapes.

FR: Shitfire, I'd like to.

BR: There's a joint in St. Louis. A dump called the Grapevine. Outfit guys and sub-lease hoods frequent it. They've been talking up a fifty-grand bounty. It's starting to feel like a giant wet dream out there in the spiritus mundi.

FR: You slay me. "Wet Dream" and "Spiritus Mundi" in the same sentence.

BR: I'm a chameleon. I'm like Ward Littell that way. I alter my vocabulary to suit the company I'm with.

FR: At least you know it. I can't say Littell's that much in control of his effects.

BR: He is and he isn't.

FR: For instance?

BR: For instance, he watches for tails everywhere he goes. Mr. Hoover's been running spots on him off and on for years, and he knows it. He catches 90% and misses 10. He's probably got just enough hubris to think he's batting a hundred.

FR: Hubris. I like it.

BR: You should. I picked it up at Yale Law.

FR: Boola, boola.

BR: Tell me about the intercepts. By my lights, your son should be twelve weeks in.

FR: More like eight. You know how he travels for Bondurant. It took him months to set up his system.

BR: Tell me about it.

FR: He rented a place in D.C. He's pulling mail off King, Barry Goldwater, and Bobby Kennedy. The Bureau's running normal intercepts, and all their mail comes addressed to the SCLC headquarters and the Senate Office Building. There's a four-agent team running a mail drop at 16th and "D." The night shift goes home at 11:00, so Wayne lets himself in at 1:00, pulls the mail, copies it and returns it at 5:00. He shuttles down from New York when he rotates in from Saigon.

BR: How does he get in?

FR: He made a mold of the door lock and had duplicate keys made.

BR: And he picks up at irregular intervals?

FR: Right. All synced to his rotations. He print-dusts the mail he picks up, since those hate-mail guys never put their return addresses on the envel-