You're right,' she laughed. I never thought of it that way.'
One day, after they had returned from another shopping trip to Stern's on West 42nd Street, Edith lit a cigarette and coolly asked him what might happen if they got caught.
We won't get caught,' insisted Tom.
Please, Tom. I want to know. What method of capital punishment do they use in the state of Massachusetts?'
We're not going to get caught,' he insisted. Believe me.'
All the same,' she smiled, I should still like to know.'
Very well. Not that it matters much, since it just isn't going to happen that way.' Tom shrugged. They use the electric chair.'
Edith nodded. She had thought it was the electric chair, only she knew that there were some states still using the gallows, and a few now using gas. She grimaced and shook her head. The electric chair seemed so peculiarly American. She muttered, Yes, of course. I was forgetting Sacco and Vanzetti. They went to the electric chair in Boston, didn't they? Myself, I think I should prefer to be executed by a firing squad.'
Don't even think about it. It's not going to happen. Besides, even if they did catch you, which they won't, the most that would happen to you is that you might go to prison.'
Why do you think so?'
Because you're a woman.'
Edith laughed bitterly. Tell that to Ethel Rosenberg.'
Edith, that was during the Korean War. Things were a lot different then.'
It was only seven years ago.'
Look, this whole thing has been planned too carefully for any of us to get caught.' Even as he said it, Tom knew this simply was not true. Much remained still to be done. And there were considerable risks, but Edith's risk still seemed smaller than his own. Don't worry,' he insisted. I've thought of everything.'
Something always goes wrong. That's to be expected.'
It won't. So let's change the subject, shall we?'
Okay. Tell me about your wife.'
LA3pez told you about her, did he?'
And what happened to her.' Edith stubbed out her cigarette and smiled. Tell me about her. About how you met.'
We met in Tokyo, after my release from the Korean POW camp. It was Mary who showed me how capitalism needed to live up to its own principles of liberty and equality, and that socialism was the best way of achieving this. Neither of us was a communist. She said that it was an accident of history that being a socialist in America was as bad as being a communist. Which was why she had been helping the Russians, although not in any important way. Just passing on the odd bit of information that came her way. Soon after bringing her back to America as my wife, we both came to the conclusion that we might as well be hanged, or electrocuted, for a sheep as for a lamb. And I started to work for the KGB. This wasn't difficult. I never had a problem killing fascists. Still don't. But things became harder when Mary became more actively involved. Her sleeping with other men -important politicians, government officials - wasn't so easy to accommodate.'
Evidently.'
Of course, once the KGB has you, they have you for ever. There's no going back. The best we can hope for now is to help defeat the fascist counter-revolutionaries in Cuba. And that would seem to require something singular.'
Tom took Edith's hand and added, That's what really scares you, isn't it? It's not the electric chair. It's the idea that you'll end up like Mary.'
Will I?'
Believe me, Edith. I wouldn't ever let that happen.'
Chapter 15
The Other 0.1
We're in the wrong fucking place,' snarled Sam Giancana, his mouth a rictus of hoodlum distaste.
It was Wednesday morning, 23 November, and Nimmo was back in Miami, at the safe house on Riviera Drive. Seated around the boardroom table, examining the details of Jack Kennedy's pre-inauguration schedule, were Nimmo, Giancana, Rosselli, and Paul Ianucci. Licio Montini was away, on the trail of another contract killer who might once have worked with Tom Jefferson.
Look at this,' Sam Giancana continued, in a rough note of complaint. Kennedy flies to Palm Beach tomorrow. For the weekend, says the note. Then he flies back to Washington on Tuesday, for a meeting at Dean Acheson's house. Then, hey whaddya know? It's back to Palm Beach, Thursday, the first of December. I mean, this guy's supposed to be getting ready to run the fuckin' country, for Christ's sake. But most of the time he's sunning his ass by the pool, at his old man's hacienda. As far as I can see he's only in Washington for two nights a week.
Sunning his ass, some of the time, maybe,' objected Nimmo. But not all the time.'
Saturday third, tenth, seventeenth, he's playing golf at the Palm Beach Country Club.'
The Everglades Club is a better course,' reflected Rosselli. If it comes to that, it's a better club. I wonder why the Kennedys don't belong.'
They wouldn't have Joe because he was a fucking crook,' explained Giancana. Then the old bastard put out that he was joining the Palm Beach Country Club because he didn't like the Everglades' anti-Semitism. But everyone knew Joe was the biggest Hebe hater of the lot.'
Look,' said Nimmo. He doesn't have to be in Washington to do the job of President-elect. He can pick his cabinet anywhere. For example, he's meeting Dean Rusk in Palm Beach, on Monday the twelfth.'
Why are all these Washington types called Dean anyway?' grumbled Rosselli.
Because their Harvard daddies wanted them to grow up to be the head of something,' said Giancana. Only punks are called Johnny.'
Maybe so, but I heard of a President called Tom Jefferson.'
Being called Dean is like being called Dulles,' said Ianucci. It's the right kind of handle for being some crappy old politician. Everyone knows there's dull, there's duller, and there's Dulles.'
That's what a college education gets you,' said Rosselli. A smart mouth. You're going to make a great lawyer, kid.'
It looks to me,' said Giancana, that after his meeting with the British Ambassador in Washington, on the sixteenth - Sir Harold whatever his fucking name is - that Kennedy is in Palm Beach right through New Year. Seems I've spent an awful lot of money to put a fucking playboy in the White House.' Giancana counted his way down the list of appointments for the President-elect that Murray Weintraub had provided. And since he's there for thirty days out of the next forty, it leads me to suppose that Palm Beach is the more likely venue for a hit, given what you've said, Jimmy, about how hard it would be for a sniper to go after Kennedy, outside his Georgetown home. In which case, maybe we should be there, too.'
He flies to New York on January second,' said Rosselli. He's there until the night of Wednesday January fourth, when he flies to Washington. Thursday the fifth he's back in New York. Then on Sunday evening he's going to Boston to make some speech on the Monday at the Board of Overseers, then right on back to the Big Apple.'
Wouldn't Boston be a good place to try to take him down?' asked Ianucci.
Listen to him,' snorted Rosselli. Anyone would think he'd made his bones, instead of a promising career. Don't let your Uncle Santos hear you talking like that, kid.'
Overseers? In The Ten Commandments, an overseer was a guy with a whip and a naked broad at his feet,' laughed Giancana. Sounds like Jack's kind of party.'
I think it just means a kind of superintendent, or supervisor.'
I know what it means, kid.' Giancana grinned patiently. Besides, it's more of an opportunity for a handgun than a marksman, I'd have thought. But you're right, Pauli. A public speech is a target standing still. Maybe we should try to check the place over. See what opportunities it might present.'
But apart from that, Mrs Kennedy,' quipped Rosselli, how did you enjoy your husband's speech?'
Let's hope this sonofabitch Jefferson isn't moved by historical parallels,' said Giancana. What month was Lincoln shot?'
