Not personally. But I've heard of him. He used to be a fed, didn't he? Just like you.'
Not like me. He was New York SAC for a while. Pretty damn good agent until he got drunk and hit someone. During the war, he ran an operation with Lansky and Luciano, which is how he's connected down here. Probably always was. The mob has pulled out all the stops on the organ to help him find Jefferson. And when he does I don't think he's planning to buy Jefferson lunch. You see, Rosselli and co., they're taking this thing very personally. They wanted to fix the problem before we found out that they had one. Not to mention the fact that your pal disappeared with a hundred grand of their money. So, now we do know about it, we'd like to catch up with Jefferson before this Nimmo guy does. Maybe even use him ourselves. Turn him back.'
Why not just speak to Johnny Rosselli and have him call off his dog?'
There's no point in doing that if he's on Jefferson's scent. By all accounts Jefferson's not so easy to find. Nimmo may actually be the best chance we have of finding him ourselves. Unless you have any bright ideas, Alex. That's really why I'm here.'
Goldman inspected his pipe and went over to the window. Where's Nimmo now?'
That's about the only thing we do know. A month ago he told his office he needed to take some personal leave. Then, about ten days before Christmas, they heard that he had to go to New York. And that if they needed to get in touch with him, he would be staying at the Shelburne Hotel.'
Goldman turned and leaned on the sill. I guess he's on the scent, all right. Tom used to go to New York a lot. He had a safe house somewhere.' Goldman sighed as he tried to remember. I'm not exactly sure where, though. Was it the Upper West Side, or the Upper East Side? My brain's like shit since this fucking cholera. But I reckon it'll come to me. I'll call when I do remember.'
Do you think he still trusts you?'
Why shouldn't he?'
Then we were thinking that maybe you were the one to bring him in.'
For you guys?' Goldman laughed and, returning to his desk, knocked out the pipe in the crystal ashtray. For a moment it hummed like a bell. Hey, I'm only just back on my feet, you know. Until just a few days ago, my throat led straight into my asshole. You want me to go to New York for you, and find Jefferson before Nimmo does?'
If that's where he is.'
I reckon it is. Tom always did like New York.'
ASAP.'
What's the all-fired hurry?'
I'm not sure I understand your question, Alex.'
The mob is pulling out all the stops, you said. Now you guys. So he's got a hundred grand. So he's fucked up your plan to kill Castro. You are telling me everything, aren't you?'
Unless he's planning to kill Santa Claus, that's really it, Alex. If there's any urgency on our part, it's because we don't like Russian spies running around the country, maybe finding out things they shouldn't. I can only imagine Rosselli feels much the same way. He may be a mobster, but he's a patriotic kind of guy.'
What's my deal?'
Your expenses.'
Natch.'
Signed without scrutiny.'
Goldman made a face. For pulling your nuts out of the fire? Goes without saying.'
He was your agent, Alex. I'd have thought you'd be quite glad to avoid any potential embarrassment.'
There might be some heat on me, it's true. But nothing I can't handle. If his cover did include killing commie scumbags, then I'd say I was pretty much in the clear, Jim.'
Okay,' shrugged O'Connell. Name your price.'
Goldman grinned. Now you're talking, Big Jim. You know, this is a pretty weird town. We've got all kinds of Cuban scum, commies, looney tunes, niggers, homo fucking sexuals - this town is lousy with fags, Jim - goddamned radicals, you name it. I'm supposed to fuck them around with not much more than my imagination, and lately that's been getting just a little tired. I need some new ways of provoking some of these mothers. They need to be encouraged a little before you can nail their asses. Their violent, irrational, embarrassing, and crazy ways need a little enhancement, so that the proper action can be taken against them. Anyway, I've been hearing this rumour that some of the mad scientists who work in your TSS Chemical Division have come up with this mind-control drug. I don't know what it's called. MKULTRA is all I know. But I was hoping you could get me some supply. It would sure make a change from anonymous letters and telephone wiretaps.'
That stuff can send you nuts,' objected O'Connell.
Then it sounds like exactly the sort of juice I'm looking for, Big Jim. Something to radicalise the radicals, and agitate the agitators. Just the thing to make 'em do something that'll put them in jail where they belong.
I'll have to clear it with Bissell,' said O'Connell. He's kind of interested in that MKULTRA shit. Anything scientific or technological, he's hot for. Now that your friend Jefferson has let us all down with the plan to hit Castro, Bissell's got all sorts of weird ideas about how to fix the Big Barbudo without risking security. MKULTRA's just one of them.' O'Connell shrugged. Hell, I don't see why not. Matter of fact, that might work out rather well, that is if you are going to New York. One of the places they've been testing the stuff is in a cathouse in Greenwich Village. The hookers give the stuff to their Johns, and our guys film the results through a two-way mirror. I'm told it's turning into quite a home movie.'
Goldman nodded. One more thing. Suppose I do catch up with Tom Jefferson. And suppose I do persuade him to speak to you guys.
What then?'
Our New York station will give you any assistance you need, Alex.'
What about Jimmy Nimmo? Suppose he doesn't care to be pushed out of the picture? Chances are he's on a fat finder's fee from Rosselli. I don't think he'll just calmly walk away from that, do you?'
If he gets in your way, then deal with him. Use your own discretion. Take a management decision.'
He's a cop, Big Jim.'
He's a bent cop. If necessary, New York station will help you to dispose of the situation.'
Goldman nodded and said, New Year in New York, eh? It'll sure beat Christmas Eve on the toilet.'
Chapter 22
On the Trail of the Assassins
As soon as Jim O'Connell, from the Security Division of the CIA, left FBI headquarters in Miami, Alex Goldman went home and called Tom Jefferson in Cambridge. He told Tom about how Giancana and Rosselli had contracted a Miami cop who was ex-FBI to try to find him and kill him, and how the CIA had, it seemed, finally woken up to what Mary Jefferson's purpose had been when she went to bed with Jack Kennedy.
I'm not sure they know exactly how many times he fucked her, but either way, since she's now dead, it means they're kind of anxious to speak to you, Paladin. Because the fact is they still don't know shit. They seem to think that I might be able to help them to find you, before Nimmo does it for the mob, on account of the COINTELPRO work you've done for me in the past, and to bring you in for the CIA. Since Nimmo's currently in New York, I believe, then it's even possible that he may actually be on your trail.'
What trail?' asked Tom. I've been careful. There's no way he could have trailed me here.'
Yeah, well, they must know something. The mob is real good at finding people. I'm flying to New York tonight to try and find out exactly how much he knows. The good news is that the CIA don't seem to mind if Nimmo gets taken out of the way for good. They really don't want any harm to come to you. Now, isn't that comforting? Like I say, I'll try to find out what he knows, if anything, and then kill him.'
If you do that, won't the CIA figure you know where I am after all?'
Not necessarily. I'll probably tell them that I met Nimmo, who told me that you were already dead. That he'd killed you. After all, that's what he's supposed to do. Giancana's kind of pissed at you, taking his money like that, Rosselli, too. Pissed and embarrassed. They don't want anything upsetting their thing with the CIA, because the CIA's going to get them off the hook with the FBI, and McLellan. That's what they believe, anyway. Besides, I'm not actually going to put a gun to Nimmo's head. Nothing so crude. I leave that kind of thing to you, Paladin. No sir, Mister Nimmo is going to have an accident. I'll simply tell O'Connell that I was supposed to meet him somewhere, but that he never showed up. The way I'll pitch it, things will sound like maybe the mob killed him because he was getting greedy. That he wanted a lot of money to keep his mouth shut about Castro, and stuff. They're real paranoid
