Read The Cold Six Thousand Online
Authors: James Ellroy
The Cold Six Thousand (36 page)
“Tell true. Is he good?”
“No, but he’s got qualities.”
“You mean money.”
“Not exactly.”
“He’s got to have something, or you’d’ve found yourself a steady before me.”
Janice winked. “I’ve sent out invitations, but nobody knocked on my door.”
“Some boys don’t know how to read signs.”
“Some boys need to look first.”
“Shit, if your hubby could see you now.”
Janice raised her voice. Janice talked overt slow.
“I had a thing with a musician once. Wayne Senior found out.”
“What did he do?”
“He killed him.”
“Are you ribbing me?”
“Absolutely not.”
Kinman kissed his Saint Chris. “You’ll be the ruin of me. Shit, and I thought Junior was the only killer in the family.”
Janice got up. Janice walked to the mirror.
She primped. She fogged the glass. She licked a finger. She drew arrows and hearts.
A dust storm kicked through. Hot winds kicked sand and sagebrush.
Wayne drove to the ranch. Wayne walked to the guest house. Wayne saw a stray car en route.
There’s Ward Littell.
He ducked the wind. He blocked Wayne’s door. He looked sandblown and storm-fucked.
He said, “Your father sent you to Dallas.”
DOCUMENT INSERT
: 10/1/64. Covert Intelligence Dossier. From: John Stanton. To: Pete Bondurant. Marked: “Hand-Courier Only/Destroy Upon Reading.”
P.B.,
I’m hoping this gets to you in time. It’s really no more than a highlighted summary & I’ve edited out the extraneous details. I’m routing it through the Mexico City Station to meet that deadline you requested. Note: Data culled from Interpol files in Paris & Marseilles. Agency copy file #M-64889/Langley.
Per: MESPLEDE, JEAN PHILIPPE, W.M., 8/19/22. LKA: 1214 Ciudad Juarez, Mexico City.
1941–’45: Conflicting accts. MESPLEDE (an alleged anti-Semite) was either a Nazi collaborator or a member of the Armed French Resistance in Lyon. Conflicting accts: MESPLEDE turned over Jews to the SS/MESPLEDE assassinated Nazis at a health retreat in the Arbois. Note: One Interpol wag concluded that he did a little of both.
1946–’47: Whereabouts unknown.
1948–’50: Mercenary work in Paraguay. The Asuncion Ops Station has a 41-page file. MESPLEDE infiltrated leftist student groups at the behest of the Paraguayan Association of Police Chiefs. MESPLEDE (Spanish fluent) assassinated 63 suspected Communist sympathizers per association guidelines.
1951–’55: French Army service (Indochina—now Vietnam—& Algeria). MESPLEDE served as a paratrooper, saw action at Dien Bien Phu & allegedly became bitter over the French defeat & withdrawal. Reports (unconfirmed)
have him moving opium base & hashish to his next duty station in Algiers.
In Algiers, MESPLEDE transferred to an occupation unit & taught torture techniques to members of a mercenary police unit employed by wealthy French colonialists. MESPLEDE (a committed anti-Communist) allegedly executed 44 Algerian nationalists suspected of Communist ties & gained a reputation as a superb wet arts specialist.
1956–’59: Whereabouts largely unknown. MESPLEDE is believed to have traveled extensively in the U.S. during this time. The Atlanta (Ga) PD has a 10/58 file note on him. MESPLEDE was suspected of taking part in the bombing of a synagogue targeted by neo-Nazis. The New Orleans PD has a 2/9/59 file note. MESPLEDE
was suspected of 16 armed robberies in N.O., Metairie, Baton Rouge & Shreveport. Note: unconfirmed rpts. state that MESPLEDE traveled in Organized Crime circles during this interval.
1960–’61: Mercenary work in the Belgian Congo. MESPLEDE (a known associate of our KA LAURENT GUERY) served as an enforcer for Belgian landowners & worked with an Agency liaison in the anti-Lumumba incursion. MESPLEDE & GUERY engineered the capture & execution of 491 leftist rebels in Katanga Province. The landowners gave MESPLEDE carte blanche & told him to implement a deterrent measure to scare would-be rebels. MESPLEDE and GUERY herded the rebels into a gully & killed them with flamethrowers.
1962–’63: At large in France. MESPLEDE (who lost land holdings when DeGaulle granted Algerian independence) allegedly joined the French OAS & took part in the 3/62 & 8/63 assassination attempts on DeGaulle. MESPLEDE resurrected in Mexico City (9/63) & has allegedly been in touch with our KAs GUERY & FLASH ELORDE. MESPLEDE is known to be committed to the anti-Castro cause & as previously stated, is determinedly anti-Communist, Spanish fluent & has both probable narcotics experience & military experience in the Southeast Asian Theatre. All in all, I think we can use him.
I’m heading back to Saigon. Pouch all future communications through my P.O. box at Arlington. We’ll use drops & cutout couriers from here on in. Remember: We’re Stage 1 Covert, like our Tiger ops in Miami. You know the old drill: Read, memorize & burn.
Thumbs up on MESPLEDE, if you think he fits in. You can recruit the rest of the team on your own autonomy. Per MESPLEDE: Watch out. His curriculum vitae is a bit scary.
For the Cause,
J.S.
(Mexico City, 10/2/64)
A
Mex brought coffee. Said Mex kissed ass. Big teeth/big bows/big compliance.
Pete lounged. Pete noshed rolls. Pete taped his piece under the table. The trigger sat flush. The silencer worked. The barrel faced the opposite seat.
Pete sipped coffee. Pete rubbed his head. Mexico City—
nyet
.
It’s a skunk zone. It’s rife with dog turds. Give me pre-Castro Havana.
He looked for Flash and Laurent. He tapped out. He dropped a note. Mesplède dropped a note back:
Let’s talk—I’ve heard about you.
He killed time. He called Barb every day. He called the K.C. Local. He dropped names. He asked questions—per Arden Elaine Bruvick.
The gist: She was Frau Danny Bruvick. Danny ran Local 602—’53-’56. Danny stole Teamster money. Danny split. Jimmy H. decreed a hit. Danny vanished. Arden stayed in K.C.
Jimmy pulled strings. The KCPD popped Arden. Arden bailed out fast. Arden split K.C.
Pete knew a KCPD guy. Pete called him. He ran Arden’s bail stats. He called Pete back.
Arden bailed out—3/10/56. The T&C Corp bailed her. Carlos M. owned T&C. T&C was his tax front.
A frayed cord. A teaser. Carlos says, “Clip Arden.” His front corp bails her.
Get more. Learn more. Don’t warn Littell
yet
. The cord felt thin. The cord could fray. The cord could strip.
A man walked in. He was fat. He wore glasses. His hands were smudged black. Odds on: French Para tattoos.
Para pit dogs—
très
French—fangs and parachutes.
Pete stood up. The man saw him. The man grabbed a front table.
Pete ad-libbed:
He crouched. He untaped his gun. He reholstered and walked over. He bowed to the man. They shook hands. The pit dogs had red eyes.
They sat down. Mesplède said, “You know Chuck Rogers.”
“Chuck’s a piece of work.”
“He lives with his parents. A man more than forty years old.”
He sounded
sud-Midi
. He looked
marseillais
. He dressed
très fasciste—
all-black ensemble.
Pete said, “He’s a committed man.”
“Yes. You can forgive his more outlandish beliefs.”
“He’s got a sense of humor about them.”
“The Ku Klux Klan disgusts me. I enjoy Negro jazz.”
“I like Cuban music.”
“I like Cuban food and Cuban women.”
“Fidel Castro should die.”
“Yes. He is a
cochon
and a
pédé.
”
“I saw Pigs. I ran troops out of the Blessington campsite.” Mesplède nodded. “Chuck told me. You shot
communistes
out an airplane window.”
Pete laughed. Pete mimed gunshots. Mesplède lit a Gauloise. Mesplède offered one.
Pete lit up. Pete coughed—it was rolled muskrat shit.
“What else did Chuck tell you?”
“That you were a committed man.”
“That’s all?”
“He also said that you,
qu’est-ce que c’est
?, ‘snipped links.’ ”
Pete smiled. Pete showed his pix. There’s Jack Z. trussed up. There’s Hank the K. dumped.
Mesplède tapped them. “Unfortunate men. They saw things they should not.”
Pete coughed. Pete blew smoke rings.
Mesplède coughed. “Chuck said the blond woman killed herself in jail.”
“That’s right.”
“You did not take her picture?”
“No.”
“Then Arden is the only one left.”
Pete shook his head. “She’s unfindable.”
“No one is that.”
“She has to be.”
Mesplède chained cigarettes. “I saw her once before, in New Orleans. She was with one of Carlos Marcello’s men.”
“She’s unfindable. Leave it at that.”
Mesplède shrugged. Mesplède dropped his hands. There’s the click. There’s the slide. There’s the hammer back.
Pete smiled. Pete bowed. Pete showed his gun. Mesplède smiled. Mesplède bowed. Mesplède showed
his
gun.
Pete grabbed a napkin. Pete draped the table. Pete covered the guns.
Mesplède said, “Your note mentioned work.”
Pete cracked his knuckles. “Heroin. We move it from Laos to Saigon and funnel it to the States. It’s Agency-adjunct and completely unsanctioned. All the profits go to the Cause.”
“Our colleagues?”
“We work under a man named John Stanton. I’ve run dope and exiles for him. We bring in Laurent Guéry, Flash Elorde, and an ex-cop to do the chemical work.”
A whore walked by. Said whore looked down. Mesplède flashed his tattoos. He flexed his hands. The dogs snapped. The dogs grew big
chorizos
.
The whore crossed herself. The whore buzzed off—
gringos malo y feo!
Mesplède said, “I am interested. I am devoted to the cause of a free Cuba.”
“
Mort à Fidel Castro. Vive l’entente franco-américaine.
”
Mesplède grabbed a fork. Mesplède cleaned his nails.
“Chuck described you as ‘soft on women.’ I will concede the unfind-ability of Arden if you further prove your loyalty to the Cause.”
“How?”
“Hank Hudspeth has defrauded the Cause. He has sold faulty weaponry to exile groups and has diverted the good merchandise to the Klan.”
Pete said, “I’ll take care of it.”
Mesplède flexed his hands. The dogs went priapic.
“I would appreciate a memento.”
The setup worked—let’s talk guns—my money/your stuff.
Pete called from Houston. Hank was eager. He said catch you a plane. I got a bunker near Polk.
Pete flew to De Ridder. Pete rented a car. Pete hit a Safeway. Pete bought a cooler. Pete bought dry ice.
He hit the local PO. He bought a box. He air-mail-stamped it. He wrote Jean Mesplède’s address on top.
He hit a gun shop. He bought a Buck knife. He hit a camera store. He bought a Polaroid. He bought some film.
He drove north. He took back roads. He cut through the Kisatchee Forest. It was hot—80 at dusk.
Hank met him. Hank was eager—I got the stuff!
The bunker was a mine shaft. Part gun hut/part igloo. Ten steps below ground.
Hank walked ahead. Hank hit the top step. Pete pulled his piece and shot him in the back.
Hank tumbled. Pete shot him again. Pete blew his ribs out.
He turned him over. He prepped his camera. He snapped a close-up. The bunker was hot—paved walls in tight.
Pete pulled his knife. Pete stretched Hank’s hair. Pete cut side to side.
He notched the blade. He hit the bone. He sheared over and up. He stepped on Hank’s head. He jerked hard. He pulled his scalp up.
He wiped it off. He dry-iced it. He boxed it. His hands shook—first-timer shakes—he’d scalped a hundred Reds.
He wiped his hands. He inscribed the snapshot. He wrote “Viva la Causa!” on the back.
(Las Vegas, 10/4/64)
J
anice was in. Wayne Senior was out. Wayne paced his room. Wayne groomed and primped.
He saw Pete at Tiger. They talked an hour back. Pete worked on him. Pete hit him up.
You’re a chemist. Let’s go to Vietnam.
You’ll
cook heroin.
We’ll
work covert ops.
He said yes. It felt logical. It felt wholly right.
Wayne shaved. Wayne combed his hair. Wayne dabbed a razor cut. Ward slammed him—four nights back—Ward fucked him way up.
He tracked Ward’s logic. He improvised. Wayne Senior ran snitches. Wayne Senior thus ran Maynard Moore. Thus he was in on the hit.
Ward left blank spots. Wayne improvised. Wayne Senior dumped his late snitch files. Wayne Senior ran Maynard Moore
then
.
Wayne brushed his hair. His hand jerked. He dropped the brush. It hit the floor and shattered.
Wayne walked outside. It was windy. It was hot. It was dark.
There—her room/her light.
Wayne walked inside. The hi-fi was on. Cool jazz or some such shit—matched horns discordant.
He turned it off. He tracked the light. He walked over. Janice was changing clothes. Janice saw him—bam—like that.
She dropped her robe. She kicked off her golf cleats. She pulled off her bra and golf shift.
He walked up. He touched her. She pulled his shirt off. She pulled down his pants.
He grabbed her. He tried to kiss her. She slid away. She knelt down. She put his cock in her mouth.
He got hard. He leaked. He got close. He grabbed her hair and pulled her mouth away.
She stepped back. She pulled off his pants. She tripped on his shoes. She sat on the floor. She balled up a skirt. She tucked it under her.
He got down. He ratched his knees. He spread her legs. He kissed her thighs. He kissed her hair and put his tongue in.
She trembled. She made funny sounds. He tasted her. He tasted her outside. He tasted her in.
She trembled. She made scared sounds. She grabbed his hair. She hurt him. She pulled his head up.
He jammed her knees out. He spread her full. She pulled him in. She squeezed a fit. She shut her eyes.
He squeezed her brows. He forced them back open. He put his face down. He keyed on her eyes. He saw green flecks he never saw before.
