American tabloid

REBELS RESCUE CUBA!

COMMIES PANDER POISON DOPE IN RAPACIOUS REVENGE!

DESPERATE DICTATOR IN EXILE! DOPE DEATH TOLL MOUNTS!

Kemper printed the headlines on a dispatch sheet. Tiger Kab swirled all around him-the midnight shift was just coming on.

He wrote a cover note.

Have Lenny Sands write up Hush-Hush articles to accompany the enclosed headlines. Tell him to expedite it and to check the Miami papers over the next week or so for background details and call me if necessary. This, of course, pertains to the invasion, and my feeling is that we’re very close to a godate. I can’t go into my plan in detail yet, but I think it’s something you’d appreciate. If Lenny finds my orders confusing, tell him to extrapolate off the headlines in the inimitable Hush-Hush style.

I know you’re somewhere in Nicaragua or Guatemala, and I’m hoping this pouch gets to you. And try to think of WJL as a colleague. Peaceful coexistence doesn’t always mean appeasement.

Kemper stamped the envelope: C. ROGERS/NEXT FLIGHT! URGENT. Fulo and Nйstor walked by, looking befuddled-he never explained why he killed Don Juan.

Santo Junior had a pet shark named Batista. They drove to Tampa and dumped Don Juan in his pool.

Kemper pulled a phone into the men’s room. He rehearsed his pitch three times, complete with pauses and asides.

He called Bobby’s secretary. He told her to turn on her tape recorder.

She jumped to it. She bought his perfectly honed urgency.

He lauded. He gushed. He praised exile morale and combat-readiness. The CIA had a brilliant plan. Their pre-invasion security was water-tight.

He raved like a skeptic newly converted. He inserted New Frontier rhetoric. His Tennessee drawl oozed convert righteousness.

The woman said she’d rush the tape to Bobby. Her voice quivered and broke.

Kemper hung up and walked out to the parking lot. Teo Paez swung by and passed him a note.

W. Littell called. Said all is well with CM. CM’s N.Y. lawyer says Justice Dept. agents are searching Louisiana for CM. W. Littell says CM should stay at Guat. camp or at least out of country for awhile.

Ward Littell in ascent-truly amazing.

A breeze kicked in. Kemper stretched out on a tiger-striped hood and looked at the sky.

The moon hovered close. Batista had bright white teeth the same color.

Kemper dozed. Chants woke him up. He heard GO GO GO GO GO-that one word and nothing else.

The shouts were ecstatic. The dispatch hut boomed like a giant echo chamber.

The invasion date was set. It coubdn’t be anything less than that.

Santo fed Batista steaks and fried chicken. His pool was an Olympic-sized grease spill.

Batista bit Don Juan’s head off. Nйstor and Fulo turned away.

He didn’t. He was starting to enjoy killing more than he should.