American tabloid

OL6-4809

No address-he didn’t want clients to know that he worked out of his apartment. No glossy stock or embossed letters-he couldn’t really afford them.

Littell cruised the third-floor hallway. Indicted felons took the cards and looked at him like he was crazy.

Shyster. Ambulance chaser. Middle-aged lawyer on the skids.

The Federal courthouse did a brisk business. Six divisions and full arraignment docketing-all unaccompanied lowlifes qualified as potential clients.

Littell passed out cards. A man flicked a cigarette butt at him.

Kemper Boyd walked up. Beautiful Kemper-so fit and groomed that he sparkled.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t drink like I used to.”

“Lunch then?”

“Sure.”

o o o

The Hay-Adams dining room faced the White House. Kemper kept glancing out the window.

“…And my work entails taking depositions and filing them in Federal District Court. We’re trying to insure that Negroes previously barred from voting aren’t excluded on the basis of illegally levied poll taxes or constrained by literacy tests that the local registrars want them to fail.”

Littell smiled. “And I’m sure the Kennedys will rig binding legal clauses to insure that every Negro in Alabama registers as a Democrat. You have to consider things like that in the early stages of building a dynasty.”

Kemper laughed. “The President’s civil rights policy isn’t that cynically conceived.”

“Is your application of it?”

“Hardly. I’ve always considered suppression ill-advised and futile.”

“And you like the people?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Your southern accent’s back in force.”

“It disarms the people I deal with. They appreciate it that a southern white man’s on their side. You’re grinning, Ward. What is it?”

Littell sipped coffee. “It occurred to me that Alabama is rather close to Florida.”

“You were always quick.”

“Does the attorney general know that you’re moonlighting?”

“No. But I do have a certain sanction on my Florida visits.”

“Let me guess. Mr. Hoover’s supplying you with cover, and as much as he professes to hate him, Bobby would never do anything to upset Mr. Hoover.”

Kemper waved a waiter off. “Your hatred’s showing, Ward.”

“I don’t hate Mr. Hoover. You can’t hate someone who runs so true to form.”

“But Bobby-”

Littell whispered. “You know what I risked for him. And you know what I got back. And what I can’t abide is that the Kennedys pretend to be better than that.”

Kemper said, “You’ve got the books.” He shot his cuffs and displayed a solid gold Rolex.

Littell pointed to the White House. “Yes, I do. And they’re booby-trapped a dozen different ways. I filed instruction contingency briefs with a dozen different lawyers when I was drunk, and even I can’t remember them all.”

Kemper folded his hands. “With depositions on my Kennedy incursion to go to the Justice Department in the event of your death or prolonged disappearance?”

“No. With depositions on your incursion and depositions on astronomically lucrative Joseph P. Kennedy Mob-linked fmancial malfeasance to go to municipal PD gangster squads nationwide, and every Republican member of the House and the Senate.”

Kemper said, “Bravo.”

Littell said, “Thank you.”

A waiter placed a phone on their table. Kemper placed a folder next to it.

“Are you broke, Ward?”

“Almost.”

“You haven’t expressed a word of rancor regarding my recent behavior.”

“It wouldn’t do any good.”

“How do you currently feel about organized crime?”

“My current feelings are relatively charitable.”

Kemper tapped the folder. “That’s a pilfered INS file. And you’re the best deportation-writ lawyer on God’s green earth.”

Littell’s shirt cuffs were soiled and frayed. Kemper wore solid gold cufflinks.

“Ten thousand dollars to start, Ward. I’m certain I can get it for you.”

“For doing what? For releasing the books to you?”

“Forget the books. All I ask is that you don’t release them to anyone else.”

“Kemper, what are you talk-?”

“Your client will be Carlos Marcello. And it’s Bobby Kennedy who wants to deport him.”

The phone rang. Littell dropped his coffee cup.

Kemper said, “That’s Carlos. Be obsequious, Ward. He’ll expect a certain amount of fawning.”

DOCUMENT INSERT: 4/2/61. VerbatIm FBI telephone call transcript: “TRANSCRIBED AT THE DIRECTOR’S REQUEST”/”DIRECTOR’S EYES ONLY.” Speaking: Director J. Edgar Hoover, Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy.

RFK: It’s Bob Kennedy, Mr. Hoover. I was hoping I could have a few minutes of your time.

JEH: Certainly.

RFK: There were a few matters of protocol I wanted to discuss.

JEH: Yes.

RFK: Communications, to begin with. I sent you a directive requesting carbons of all summary reports submitted by your Top Hoodlum Program squads. That directive was dated February 17th. It’s now the 2nd of April, and I’ve yet to see a single report.

JEH: These directives take time to Implement.

RFK: Six weeks seems like ample time to me.

JEH: You perceive an undue delay. I do not.

RFK: Will you expedite the implementation of that directive?

JEH: Certainly. Will you refresh my memory as to why you issued It?

RFK: I want to assess every scrap of anti-Mob intelligence the Bureau acquires and share it where needed with the various regional grand juries that I hope to impanel.

JEH: You may be acting injudiciously. Leaking information that could only have originated from THP sources might jeopardize THP informants and electronic survefflance placements.

RFK: All such information will be evaluated from a security standpoint.

JEH: That function should not be trusted to non-FBI personnel.

RFK: I adamantly disagree. You’re going to have to share your information, Mr. Hoover. The simple cultivation of intelligence will not bring Organized Crime to its knees.

JEH: The Top Hoodlum Program mandate does not provide for information-sharing to expedite grand jury indictments.

RFK: Then we’re going to have to revise it.

JEH: I would consider that a rash and heedless act.

RFK: Consider it what you like, and consider it done. Consider the Top Hoodlum Program mandate superseded by my direct order.

JEH: May I remind you of this simple fact: you cannot prosecute the Mafia and win.

RFK: May I remind you that for many years you denied that the Mafia existed. May I remind you that the FBI is but one cog in the overall wheel of the Justice Department. May I remind you that the FBI does not dictate Justice Department policy. May I remind you that the President and I consider 99% of the left-wing groups that the FBI routinely monitors to be harmless if not outright moribund, and laughably inoffensive when compared to Organized Crime.

JEH: May I state that I consider that burst of invective to be ill-concelved and fatuous in its historical perspective?

RFK: You may.

JEH: Was there anything of a similar or less offensive nature that you wish to add?

RFK: Yes. You should know that I intend to Initiate wiretap accountability legislation. I want the Justice Department to be informed of every single instance of wiretapping undertaken by municipal police departments nationwide.

JEH: Many would consider that undue Federal meddling and a flagrant abuse of States’ Rights.

RFK: The concept of States’ Bights has been a smokescreen to obscure everything from de facto segregation to outmoded abortion statutes.

JEH: I disagree.

RFK: Duly noted. And I would like you to duly note that from this day on you are to inform me of every electronic surveillance operation that the FBI engages in.

JEH: Yes.

RFK: Duly noted?

JEH: Yes.

RFK: I want you to personally call the New Orleans SAC and have him assign four agents to arrest Carlos Marcello. I want this done within seventy-two hours. Tell the SAC that I’m having Marcello deported to Guatemala. Tell him that the Border Patrol will be contacting him to iron out details.

JEH: Yes.

RFK: Duly noted?

JEH: Yes.

RFK: Good day, Mr. Hoover.

JEH: Good day.