Wayne had white horse-one spike in his pocket-one short test dose.

He found a vein. He geezed the man. The man gasped. The man smiled. The man nodded out.

Wayne timed his death. He went out in sixteen seconds. He went out wispy and numb.

Pete was World War II. Pete had a rule: Don't sell to GIs. It was naive. It negated the real rule: provocation meets response.

"Our Boys" would fight the war. "Our Boys" would look for outs. "Our Boys" would find Big "H."

Stanton had terms: "the Agency's War" and "the Personal Commitment."

He killed Bongo. He committed. He joined the war then. He squashed a bug. It felt right. It felt impersonal. He killed Bongo. He dumped Bongo. He took his own pulse. Sixty-two beats a minute-no malice/no stress.

Rats ate Bongo. Some Marvs found his bones. A rumor spread: Chemist do it-chemist kill pimp.

Whores braced Wayne. They said be our pimp-we love you. He said no. He saw that colored whore. He saw her trailer.

The rumor spread. Chuck heard it. Chuck told Bob. Bob braced him. Bob said come south and join my Klan-we'll fuck niggers up.

Wayne said no. Bob dropped hints: I work for your dad. Wayne said no. Bob laughed. Wayne said he might come to WATCH.

He watched in Saigon. He watched in Bao Loc. He watched in Vegas. He watched the pushers. He tailed the pushers. He ensured subservience.

He watched West LV. He watched the bars. He watched that trailer. Junkies used it now. Junkies geezed within. They ignored the soot. They ignored the smell. They ignored the whore's bones.

He watched West LV. He asked around. He trawled for Wendell Durfee. The locals ignored him. The locals misled him. The locals spit on his shoes.

He logged tips. He paid rewards. He logged futile data. He hit the bars. He logged fear. He brought Sonny Liston along.

Sonny quaffed J B. Sonny popped pills. Sonny ran riffs: Wendell Durfee went Muslim-Muhammad speaks-it gots to be!

Wendell runs a mosque. Wendell knows Cassius Clay. Wendell knew the late Malcolm X.

Storm the Nigger Mosques. Climb the Nigger Grapevine. Comb the Nigger Underworld. Patch the Nigger Switchboard. Punch the Nigger Teletype-and track that nigger down!

Sonny peeled his nigger eyes. Sonny filed his nigger claws. Sonny tapped his nigger intuition. Sonny logged tips. Sonny dished out rewards. Sonny pledged results.

Pete said Durfee was dead. DPD killed him unpublicized. They killed him for Maynard Moore.

Wayne said no-you're wrong. Wayne logged tips and WATCHED.

He logged lounge time. He watched Barb. He took side seats. He looked backstage. He got candid shots.

The Bondsmen smoked weed there. Barb popped pills. Barb popped Johnnie Black. Her eyes showed it. Her pulse showed it. She cleaned up for Pete's rotations.

He watched. He saw things everywhere. He felt invisible.

He logged lounge time. He caught Barb's gigs. He saw Janice and Ward Littell. They sat close. They held hands. They brushed knees.

He saw them. They never saw him. Sonny had a theory: Only niggers see you.

71

(Las Vegas, 6/18/65)

Janice hit balls.

She chipped off her porch. Said porch as golf range-tee/putting strip/net.

It was hot. Janice wore a middy blouse and shorts. Littell watched her concentrate. Littell watched her hit.

Janice teed balls. Janice hit shots. Janice stretched the net. She swiveled. Her blouse gapped. Her beating scars flexed.

She said, "I saw Wayne Senior at the DI. He was making a phone call."

Littell smiled. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you hate him, and you're curious about the men I've slept with."

Littell sipped coffee. "I hope I haven't been prying."

"That's impossible with me. You know how I love to divulge."

"I do know. It's something that separates-"

"Me from Jane, I know."

Littell smiled. "Tell me what you heard."

Janice teed a ball. "He was in the casino, and he was using one of those courtesy phones. He didn't see me behind him."

"And?"

"And he was talking to a man named Chuck. He was talking about the bad reception from Vietnam, and he was cracking jokes about Bogalusa and 'Bombalusa.'"

Littell stirred his coffee. "That's it?"

"That and the way he was gloating, with that Indiana drawl of his."

Hold it. Stop right-

Littell stirred his coffee. Littell thought it through. Bogalusa was East Louisiana. Bogalusa was Klan kountry.

Vote drives-right now-fronted by SCLC. BLACK RABBIT on go. Wayne Senior as FATHER RABBIT

Hold it. Stop right-

_You're_ CRUSADER RABBIT Bayard Rustin's PINK. You taped PINK. PINK told you about Bogalusa. You told Mr. Hoover.

Mr. Hoover knows. Mr. Hoover never calls. Mr. Hoover pledges memos. Mr. Hoover sends none.

Janice built a martini. "Is there room for two in that trance of yours, or should I leave you alone?"

Littell coughed. "Do you have any idea who Chuck is?"

"Well, I'd say he's that little man who flew a plane to Wayne Senior's Christmas party, and showed up with your caveman friend Pete."

Hold it. Stop right-

Chuck Rogers: Pilot/killer/racist nut/Dallas shooter. Vietnam and Pete's gig-covert CIA.

FATHER RABBIT runs WILD RABBIT. WILD RABBIT is Army. WILD RABBIT serves "overseas." Mr. Hoover talked rabbits. Mr. Hoover talked dates. WILD RABBIT to leave the Army-5/65. WILD RABBIT to go Klan then.

"Ward, am I going to have to do a striptease to pull you out of that trance?"

o o o

He worried it. He tested it. He dreamed RABBITS. He carried it with him. He brought it home. He slept with it.

BOMBalusa. BOMBingham: September '63. A bomb blows at 16th Street Baptist Church. Four Negro girls die.

He woke up. He made coffee. He built rationales:

Don't call Mr. Hoover. Don't raise an alarm. Don't call Pete. Don't mention Chuck. Don't breach need-to-know. Don't call Bayard. Don't probe Bogalusa. Don't sound his alarm.

Don't call BLUE RABBIT. Don't call WHITE RABBIT Don't rouse the Holly boys. They hate Negroes. They love Mr. Hoover.

Wayne Senior's FATHER RABBIT FATHER knows Chuck. FATHER runs WILD RABBIT WILD RABBIT runs a klavern. The Feds fund it and impose rules:

"Operational guidelines." "Violence to sustain informant credibility." BOMBingham/BOMBalusa/BOMB-

Littell grabbed the phone. Littell called Barb. Littell ran a riff:

Laos. Pete's dope clique. Is Chuck Rogers in?

Barb said, "Yes."

Littell hung up. Littell called the switchboard. Littell braced an operator: Get me U.S. Customs-the passport office-New Orleans.

The operator ran it. Littell got the number. Littell dialed direct.

A man picked up. "Customs, Agent Bryce."

"My name's Ward Littell. I'm ex-FBI, with reserve credentials. I was hoping you'd do me a favor."

"Well, sure, if I can."

Littell grabbed a pen. "I need you to check your recently collated entries for flights from Laos and Vietnam. I'm looking for commercial or military landings at Customs-manned facilities in your jurisdiction, and I need the names on the passport-check lists."

Bryce coughed. "Can you hold? I doubt if we've had more than three or four of those, tops."

Littell said, "I'll hold."

Bryce hit a button. The connection fuzzed. Static hit the line. Littell held. Littell checked his watch. Littell counted rabbits.

BLUE RABBIT/WILD RABBIT/RED RABBIT Three minutes/forty-two sec-

Bryce picked up. "Sir? We've only got one. I-"

"Can you give-"

"One ordnance flight. Saigon to the Air National Guard facility near Houston. The crew plus one passenger, a man named Charles Rogers."