DIR: To digress. Tell me how WILD RABBIT is behaving.

BR: He's doing well, Sir. He's building up his Klan unit nicely, chiefly on the basis of FATHER RABBIT's recruitments. He's debriefed a number of recruits with mail-fraud information on rival kiaverns and paramilitary groups. The Bogalusa incident appears to have chastened him, and he seems to be adhering to his operational parameters.

DIR: WILD RABBIT is an obstreperous bunny who has endured very obvious reprimands.

BR: That's my assessment, Sir. But I don't know who the reprimander is, and the Rogers angle eludes me.

DIR: The chain of events is seductive. Rogers kills his parents and disappears. A Negro church explodes 800 miles east.

BR: I only like riddles I can solve, Sir.

DIR: I had the Houston SAC run a passport check. Pete Bondurant and Wayne Tedrow Junior arrived in Houston shortly after Rogers. I think they killed him, but their motive flummoxes me.

BR: Again, Sir. CRUSADER RABBIT and his proximity.

DIR: Yes, an additional vexation.

BR: Sir, do you-

DIR: RED RABBIT will seek to attend WHITE RABBIT's funeral. Will you allow it?

BR: Yes, Sir.

DIR: May I ask why?

BR: My reason may sound ifip, Sir.

DIR: Indulge yourself. Walk on the wild side.

BR: My brother enjoyed RED RABBIT, Sir. He knew him for what he was and liked him anyway. He can come and give a big oration and repeat his "I Have a Dream" speech for all I care. Lyle only made 46, so I'm prone to humor his memory.

DIR: The fraternal bond deconstructed. Bravo, Dwight.

BR: Thank you, Sir.

DIR: Has it occurred to you that CRUSADER and WHITE RABBIT share certain characteristics and a common moral void?

BR: It has, Sir.

DIR: Is your hatred for RED RABBIT escalating?

BR: It is, Sir. It was my hope that we could escalate BLACK RABBIT and recoup our loss.

DIR: In due time. For now I want to wait and assess an adjunct plan.

BR: Covert ops?

DIR: No, a formal shakedown.

BR: Run by field agents?

DIR: No, run by one Pierre Bondurant, known in unpolite circles as "Mr. Extortion" and "The Shakedown King."

BR: He's a rough piece of work.

DIR: He's close to CRUSADER RABBIT. We might learn a few things.

BR: Yes, Sir.

DIR: Good day, Dwight. And, again, my condolences.

BR: Good day, Sir.

82

(New Hebron, 8/12/65)

He never thought it. He never said it. It was ugly. It was stupid. It made you THEM.

Wayne took back roads. Wayne saw shit shacks and crop rows. Wayne saw THEM.

They tilled dirt. They hauled brush. They dished slop. Wayne watched. Wayne made them Bongo. Wayne made them Wendell D.

Wicked Wendell-last seen in Bakersfield-redneck California. Work first/Bakersfield _soon_/New Hebron now.

New Hebron was redneck. New Hebron was small. New Hebron was _trиs_ Mississippi. Bob Relyea gigged there. Bob ran Wild Rabbit's hutch. Bob ran his Klan kompound.

Bob had kadre guns. Wayne had kadre money. Kall it: Kadre meets Klan.

Wayne drove slow. Wayne watched THEM. He felt bifurcated. He felt travel-fucked.

He'd rotated west. He split Saigon. He had three weeks in. He cooked horse. He packaged horse. He followed horse west.

Pete was in Laos. Ditto Mesplиde. Mesplиde just rotated in. They ran Tiger Kamp. They ran slaves. They cooked base.

Pete got antsy there. Pete got bored. Pete bought a bomb raid. Pete bought some Marv pilots. Said pilots napalmed Ba Na Key.

They deforested. They depilatoried. They defoliated. They torched a dope camp. They torched a dope field. They spared the camp lab. They cued in Tran Lao Dinh. Tran sacked the lab. Tran stole M-base and equipment. Tran fed it to Tiger Kamp.

Laurent was in Bon Secour, Alabama. Ditto Flash E. Pete nailed a boat there. Flash knew boats. Laurent knew carpentry.

One charter boat-one overhaul-one war boat boocoo.

Pete's plan: You view the guns. You pay Bob. You route said guns-New Hebron to Tiger South. _You_ drive to Bon Secour then. _You_ play backup. _You_ jam this clown Danny Bruvick.

Loops. Rotations. Travel fucks.

Flash was travel-fucked. Flash looped through Cuba. Flash dipped in via speedboat. Flash dropped Fuentes and Arredondo. They stayed there. Flash looped on back. Flash looped to Bon Secour.

Soon:

Arms run #1. The _Ebbtide_ revamped-the new _Tiger Klaw_ boocoo.

Wayne cut east. Wayne hit dirt roads. Wayne saw paper mills and compost burning. Wayne saw Bob's "farm."

One shack-Bob's "Fьhrer Barn." One gun range adjacent. Klan klowns kluster. Klan klowns klique. Klan klowns klip targets.

Wayne pulled in. Wayne parked. Wayne smelled cordite and horse shit. Wayne walked in the barn. Cold air hit him-the "Fьhrer Igloo."

He shut the door. He laughed. He sneezed.

Rebel-flag drapes. Rebel-flag rugs. Rebel-flag furniture. Tracts on a table-Wayne Senior's script-"Red Racemixers"/"Spook Coonfidential."

Ammo on a couch/sheets on a table/hoods on a stool. Dry-cleaned and folded. All cellophaned.

Wayne laughed. Wayne sneezed. The door popped open. Bob Rabbit walked in. Bob wore fatigues. Bob wore jump boots. Bob detached his Klan hood.

Wayne laughed. Bob shut the door. Bob refroze the igloo.

"It ain't _GQ_, but it works."

Wayne tapped his pockets. "I brought the money."

"Your daddy says hi. He always asks about you."

"Let's see the guns."

"Let's jaw first. 'Hey, Bob, how's the hammer hangin'?' 'Long and strong, Wayne, how about you?'"

Wayne smiled. Pete whomped on Bob. Pete boxed his rabbit ears. Pete avenged Ward Littell.

"Let's see the guns."

Bob packed his nose. Bob jammed in Red Man snuff.

"The niggers are rioting in L.A. I told my boys, 'It'd take some napalm and two hundred Wayne Juniors to stop that thing.'"

Wayne sneezed-cold air and snuff.

"Cut the shit and show me the guns."

"Let's jaw first. We discuss the nigger problem, and I show you my correspondence file from the Missouri State Pen."

Wayne said, "You're wearing me thin."

Bob rubbed his nose. "I got letters from Jimmy Ray and Loyal G. Binns. They're both good haters and pliable as shit. I think they'll join up when they get-"

Wayne walked. Wayne bumped Bob deliberate. Wayne walked to the kitchen.

A TV was on. Negroes cavorted. Negroes threw rocks. Negroes stole liquor. The sound was off. Said Negroes yelled. Their teeth glowed bright.

Bob walked in. Bob bumped Wayne deliberate. Bob popped an unplugged meat freezer.

Guns: M-14s/pumps/bazookas.

Bob pinched a nostril. Bob blew excess snuff.

"I got all the requisite ammo and eight M-132 Zippos out at the range. Some guys heisted a National Guard post in Arkansas. My contact knows them, so we got first dibs. I figure you got plenty of shit for Tiger South and your Cuban run."

"How much?"

"Thirty-five, which is a yard-sale fucking price, if you want my opinion.

Wayne grabbed a pump. Wayne checked the slide. Burn marks/no maker code.

"It's been dipped. There's no serial numbers."

"They're all that way. The guys didn't want the shit to be traced back to the heist."

Wayne grabbed an M-14. Wayne grabbed a bazooka.

"It's good ordnance. It looks too good to be Guard issue."

"Don't complain. We got a fucking bargain."

Wayne grabbed an M-14. Wayne checked the barrel lug.

"Pete wanted the serial numbers to show. It's a terror tactic. If the stuff gets captured, the Castro guys will know it's U.S. donation stock."

Bob shrugged. "It's not like you got it at Sears, with the fucking price tag attached and the lifetime warranty."