That's right. But Jefferson never did talk very much. He'd have made a pretty poor guest on Ed Sullivan, I reckon.'
But you talked about something, surely? I mean, you went to dinner. You and this other guy, Bosch. The one you say is still down in Key West.' Sorges nodded. So what did you talk about?'
Sorges shrugged. Broads. Key West. Hemingway. The election.'
I guess he was a big Kennedy fan, his wife working for the Democrats 'n all?'
Matter of fact I got the impression he didn't care for Kennedy at all.'
Did he say why?'
Nothing specific.'
Didn't that surprise you?'
I didn't think anything about it, at the time.'
Okay. Broads. You talked about broads. Did he talk about his wife much?'
Not at all. We had this ongoing argument about Marilyn Monroe. Me, I prefer Kim Novak, or Jayne Mansfield. But he liked Marilyn. One time-' Sorges stopped, seeming to think better of what he had been about to say.
What?'
Nuthin'.
I'll be the judge of that,' snapped Nimmo. Sam Giancana's already taken me into his confidence, Frank. I'd hate to have to tell him I thought you were holding out on me about something.' This time Nimmo caught the look that flicked between Sorges and Rosselli, and clapped his hands loudly. Come on guys. It's show time at Grossingers. If you've got a routine, put your fucking skates on, and let's see it before the ice melts.' Rosselli was nodding now, urging full disclosure on Frank Sorges.
Sorges told Nimmo about the JFK-Marilyn tape-recording.
The prince and the show-girl, huh?' commented Nimmo. Makes sense, I guess. Sounds like some tape, Johnny. And some squeeze, too. More like a hug from a fucking grizzly bear.'
Rosselli shook his head. There's no squeeze. No shakedown. Not yet anyway. And Kennedy doesn't even know about the tape. No more than she does. It's what you might call an insurance policy. Just in case the President-elect doesn't deliver on a done deal. You see, Mooney helped old Joe Kennedy out of a bind with Frank Costello. Not to mention what happened during the election, when he delivered Illinois on a silver salver. The way old Joe likes things. In return, Jack and Joe promised to lay off with senate investigations and shit like that.'
Nimmo nodded grimly, drank some wine, and then pulled a face. Suddenly this wine doesn't taste as good,' he said. I'm beginning to understand why this Tom Jefferson lit out. You boys are playing some serious fucking cards here. And for high stakes. I ought to tell you to deal me out only I'd kind of like to hear what happens next. Can I hear it? The tape, I mean.'
If you think it's necessary. Frank? Fetch the tape.'
But it's at home,' protested Sorges. In the safe. Like you said.'
Fetch it anyway.'
Grumbling loudly about a wild goose chase, Frank Sorges stood up and shuffled his bulk out of the suite.
Nimmo waited for the door to close behind him and then said, Where the fuck did you find him, Johnny?'
Frank? He's a good man.'
Yeah?'
You remember Norman Morgan?'
Rough House Morgan? Mob gofer from Havana?' Rosselli nodded. Sure, I remember him.'
He introduced us.'
Do you trust him?'
We share a common interest in the liberation of Cuba from the communists. Why not?'
I don't know. Only Mooney told me the fee you guys were paying Jefferson to hit Castro. Frank may have figured that he could do the job himself, him being part Cuban 'n all. Maybe he got rid of Jefferson, and kept the money. Or maybe he split it with this other guy, Orlando Bosch.'
You paint a very surreal picture, Jimmy.'
That's my job. Bringing together seemingly unrelated fragments of life into a new reality. I do everything except soft watches.'
Rosselli glanced at his own watch. How shall we amuse ourselves? A little gin-rummy, perhaps? He'll be gone about an hour.'
No, thanks.' Nimmo collected the second file off the table in front of him and burped. Pardon me. It's not every day I have such rich food for thought.' He opened the file and took out a solitary sheet of typewritten paper and a photograph. This our man?'
Yes. The rest of what's there is rather bland fare. The make and registration of our missing gunsel's car. Foreign bank accounts, passport number, that kind of thing. Just a few odds and ends I had put together to try and make your life a little easier.'
Thanks a lot,' Nimmo said, returning the sheet of paper and the photograph to the file. Tell me, did Kennedy fuck Marilyn here, or someplace else?
I can assure you, there are no peepholes, or hidden microphones, or anything else of that nature in this suite. I believe the recording was made at a house in Virginia, just outside Washington. Of course, there have been lots of other assignations. But you know, I think those two young people are genuinely fond of each other.'
By the time Sorges came back with the tape, a little less than a hour later, Rosselli and Nimmo were watching the basketball on television. They watched the game, between Detroit and Los Angeles, to its conclusion and then turned their attention to the tape now ready to play on Rosselli's portable Grundig.
I forgot to tell you,' mumbled Sorges. This isn't actually the Marilyn tape. But it's the one I played Jefferson. I couldn't get my hands on the one featuring Marilyn. Because Johnny had hidden it away someplace safe.'
Wait a minute,' said Nimmo. You mean this is Kennedy fucking some other broad?' Sorges nodded. How many fucking tapes are there?'
Our President-elect,' Rosselli said smoothly, gets himself laid as often as eggs. When I was in Hollywood, I met some very accomplished swordsmen. Charlie Chaplin, Errol Flynn. But there never was a man for pussy like Jack Kennedy. Not that any of this excuses what Frank did. He was way out of order letting Jefferson listen to this tape at all.'
Hey, not that he was really interested, you know?' said Sorges, switching on the tape machine. For him, it was Marilyn, or nothing.'
I can dig that,' said Nimmo. He knocked out his pipe in an ashtray and set about refilling it with tobacco.
He was no stranger to material obtained from wiretaps, and, usually, most of what you heard was of a sexual nature. As someone who had worked for the OSS and, penultimately, the FBI, Nimmo had often participated in cases involving blackmail. On one occasion he had heard a tape that purported to prove that Eleanor Roosevelt and her close companion Lorena Hickock had enjoyed a lesbian relationship, but it wasn't the best of recordings and, as far as Nimmo was concerned, the jury was still out on that one. Another time he had listened to a wiretap of President Eisenhower discussing his impotence with mistress Kay Summersby. Nimmo liked Ike, but unfortunately he thought that tape had been the genuine article. It was certainly possible that J. Edgar Hoover was being blackmailed by Meyer Lansky, just as Hoover himself was supposed to have pictures and recorded material of everyone, from civil rights leaders to the Queen of England's favourite Uncle Louis. So Nimmo was only a little surprised that Jack Kennedy should have fallen victim himself to some kind of covert surveillance operation. What did surprise him, however, was that the recording should be so explicitly sexual.
Kennedy - his Boston drawl easily recognisable - was the kind of guy who liked his partner to talk dirty to him, encouraging the anonymous girl on the tape - Honey' was what he called her - to direct his fingers, or the way to use his tongue, or even how deep to take his cock in her mouth.
After they had brought their lovemaking to a loud conclusion - a sound recordist's nightmare, Nimmo figured - and the conversation had moved from sexual praxis to American foreign policy, Rosselli nodded at Sorges, who got up and switched off the machine.
I hope that satisfies your curiosity, Jimmy,' said Rosselli. It seemed to satisfy Jack all right.'
Nimmo said nothing, just puffed his pipe thoughtfully, and frowned.
After a two-minute silence, Rosselli lit a cigarette and said, What's this, Jimmy? The Great Detective? Not so much elementary, my dear Watson, as alimentary. I think that girl must have swallowed a gallon of the President-
