The cold six thousand

88

(Las Vegas, 9/28/65)

The cat abused him. He loved it. He lived for his shit.

The cat clawed his pants. The cat snagged his socks. The cat dropped turds on his shirts. He loved it. Shit on me more now. I live for your shit.

The AC dipped. Pete slapped the wall unit. The cat clawed his shirt.

Biz was slow. The p.m. lull dragged. Pete shagged calls. His drivers smoked outside.

New rules: The Tiger Kab Manifesto.

Don't smoke near me. Don't eat near me. Don't snarf fat-rich food. Don't tempt me with taste treats-let me get back.

I've got more wind now. I've got more spunk. I've got more pizzazz. I dumped the pills. They fucked with me. I let the cat do that.

Don't smoke. Don't eat bad food-the docs said that.

Okay-I'll play.

Don't worry. Don't work hard. Don't pull rotations-fuck you on _that_.

Tran iced himself. He worried it. He worked it. He hired some Marvs. They surveilled the lab. They reported:

Some Can Lao snuck in. They let chemists in. Said chemists brought M-base boocoo. Said chemists cooked white horse. Said chemists used Wayne's shit.

Pete braced Stanton. Stanton was sheepish. Stanton said: "I was going to tell you-_after_ you got well."

Pete said TELL ME NOW. Stanton said the new regime's tough. You know that. No fuck with Can Lao cat Mr. Kao. He's tough. He's greedy. He's savvy. He's cooking "H" in our lab-on Wayne's rotations. He's shipping "H" to China. He's routing "H" west. He's got a French clientele.

Pete blew up. Pete kicked walls. Pete strained arteries. Stanton smiled. Stanton jollied him. Stanton popped a ledger book.

Said book held figures. Said figures said: Mr. Kao _bought_ his lab time. Mr. Kao paid big coin. The kadre made money.

Stanton reasoned. Stanton explicated. Stanton mollified. He said Kao's pro-U.S. and pro-kadre. He said Kao won't sell dope to GIs.

Pete reasoned. Stanton reasoned. They rehashed Tran's suicide.

Tran killed the slaves. Tran stole the M-base. Mr. Kao bought Tran's base ricky-tick. Tran fears Kao. Tran won't snitch Kao. Tran electrifies.

Stanton said he'd brace Kao. Stanton said he'd say this: We're your friends. Don't use us. Don't fuck us. Don't sell dope to GIs.

Pete was relieved. Pete rotated west. Pete relieved his arteries. Wayne was stateside now. Wayne was in Bon Secour. Wayne dipped south per gun-run rotations.

Pete called him. Pete spilled on Tran. Pete spilled on Can Lao Kao.

Wayne went nuts. Wayne loved his lab/Wayne loved his dope/Wayne loved his chemistry. Pete calmed him down. Pete yelled and cursed. Pete strained his arteries.

Donkey Dom swished in. The cat hissed. The cat hated fags. The cat hated wops.

Dom hissed back. Pete laughed. The phone rang.

Pete picked up. "Tiger."

"It's Otash. I'm in L.A., and I don't need a cab."

Pete stroked the cat. "What is it? Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, I did. The trouble is, I won't fuck one client in favor of another, which means I found those files for Littell, which contained some racy shit on his girlfriend and Carlos M., so I'm telling you, because you're paying me for some version of the same-"

Pete hung up. Pete plugged the switchboard. Pete dialed Bon Secour direct. He got dial tones. He got rings. Ward _knows_ now. Ward will-

"Charthouse Motel."

"Wayne Tedrow. He's in room-"

Dial tones/clicks/rings-

Wayne picked up. "Yeah?"

"It's me. I want-"

"Jesus, calm down. You'll have another-"

"Lock up Bruvick. Make him call Ward at 10:00 p.m. L.A. time."

Wayne said, "What _is_ this?"

Pete said, "I'm not sure."

(Los Angeles, 9/28/65)

Trashed: the living room/the bedrooms/the kitchen.

He saw wisps. He saw cords. They weren't there. He trashed the phones. He looked for taps. They weren't there. He trashed the TV. He looked for bugs. They weren't there.

He trashed his study. He trashed Jane's den. They were cord and bugfree. He walked to a liquor store. He bought Chivas Regal. He walked it on back.

He opened it. He smelled it. He dumped it out.

He rebuilt the phones. He reread the story. Arden Breen Bruvick/Carlos and Jane.

He clipped the piece. He cropped the pic. He taped them inside the front door. He taped them at Jane's eye-level.

Jane was late. Jane was due-Arden Breen Bruvick Smith Coates.

Littell grabbed a chair. Littell sat outside. The terrace view enticed. West L.A/count the lights/gauge that long drop.

There's the key. It's her. It's Arden Breen Bruv-

The lock clicked. The door slammed. There's the pause. There's the gasp.

She dropped her keys. She scraped a match. She's scheming. She's lighting up. She needs hand props.

Littell heard her foot scuffs. High heels tapped hardwood. Littell smelled her smoke.

There-she's behind you.

"It's not what you're thinking. There's an explanation for all of it."

His neck went warm. He felt her breath. He stared at the lights. He hid from her face.

"Carlos protected you before Dallas. I protected you after. You went back to Carlos and started spying on me."

Jane traced his shoulders. Jane traced his neck. She probed. She worked his kinks. Geisha/spy/whore.

"Carlos found me _after_ Dallas. He knew I had to be the Arden at the safe house. He lied to Pete and pretended that he didn't know who I was."

She probed. She worked his neck. Call girl/liar/whore.

"Carlos was hiding my husband. He said he'd hand us up to Jimmy Hoff a if I didn't report back on you. I'd had a thing with Jules Schiffrin, and Carlos told me about your Teamster-book plan."

Her hands _worked_. Her voice _worked_. Concubine/whore.

"But I loved you, and I loved our life, and I loved what you'd done for me."

She traced his neck. She kissed his neck. Mob slattern/whore.

"Yes, I went through your things. But I didn't tell Carlos that you were stealing from Howard Hughes, or that you were sending money to the SCLC, or that you sleep with Janice Tedrow when you're not sleeping with me, or that you hoard these pathetic mementos of Robert Kennedy."

Littell rubbed his eyes. Streetlights blurred. Littell gauged the drop.

"You've got a file. You're too good not to have one."

Jane dropped her hands. Jane went through her purse. Jane dropped a key in his lap.

"The Encino B. of A. You can have it. That's how much it means to me now."

Littell squeezed the key. Jane kissed his neck.

"I loved my father. That rumor that I hated him was nonsense. Danny and I didn't kill him. Jimmy Hoff a did."

Littell rubbed his eyes. Jane leaned in. Jane rubbed her tears on his neck.

"This all goes back to Jimmy and the Outfit. I was going to complete my commitment to Carlos and go to the FBI. I was going to give them everything I had on every Outfit man I knew, and try to cut a deal to save you."

Littell rubbed his eyes. Littell rubbed his neck. Traitor/spy/whore.

He stood up. He turned around. He _saw_ Jane. He made fists. Her eyes were wet. Her cheeks were wet. She'd trashed her makeup.

The phone rang. He stared at Jane. Jane stared hard back. The phone rang. He stared. He saw:

New gray hairs. New face lines. Neck veins on a roar.

The phone rang. He stared. He saw: One hip cocked/those cheekbones/her pulse on a roar.

The phone rang. Jane broke the stare. Jane walked and got it. She said, "Hello." She trembled-pulse on a roar.

He followed her. He stared at her. He saw her neck veins and cheek veins. He saw her pulse on a roar.

She turned away. She cupped the receiver. He walked around her. He grabbed the hall phone.

He heard a man. He heard "run." He heard "blown with Littell." He heard the man falter. He heard Jane get strong.

She said, "Run." She said, "Hush now." She said, "Carlos _will_ care."

She hung up. The line-click boomed. Littell dropped his phone.

He walked over. He saw her eyes start to dry. He saw her pulse ebb off that roar.

"Were we ever real?"

"I think we loved risk more than we ever loved each other."

"You were always an Arden. You were never really a Jane."

_DOCUMENT INSERT_: 10/2/65. Atlanta _Constitution_ headline: