is that people forget to tell a story. But nothing's more important than that. Story is everything.'
When they were safely back in the Center Street apartment, Tom made them both some hot coffee and sandwiches and, while Alex developed the cine film, he watched The Guiding Light on TV. For a while he even closed his eyes and dozed a little. He was exhausted. The dummy assassination had been every bit as tiring as the real thing. More so. The sense of anti-climax was almost too much to bear. But it wasn't over yet. Not by a long way.
An hour or so later, at around two thirty, Alex emerged from the darkroom holding a small spool of developed film in his hand.
Here it is,' he announced triumphantly. Today's rushes.'
Tom got to his feet and, holding it up to the light, inspected some of the forty or fifty feet of sixteen- millimetre film Alex had shot on the Bolex Rex, and for which they had risked so much.
When can we view it?' he asked.
But Goldman was already unrolling a forty-inch screen.
No time like the present,' he said. Of course, you understand this little film classic is unedited. The lab'll need to make a copy before they slice this up.'
Tom turned the TV off. Goldman threaded the film on to a Bell and Howell projector, pulled the drapes, and then sat down on the sofa to watch. The two viewed the short film through several times with Goldman continuing to comment favourably on his own camerawork.
I reckon it's come out real fine,' he declared. Like I was Alfred fucking Hitchcock. Nicely lit, and nicely framed. Even though I say so myself. Damn good camera, that Bolex. I just wish we'd had sound.'
We agreed,' said Tom. The Fairchild was too complicated.'
Colour's good, though. You and Kennedy make quite a pair,' said Goldman. I always knew he was photogenic, but you look good, too. Maybe you should have been a movie actor, Tom. You've got presence, I'll say that much for you.'
A rifle can do that for you. It lends you a certain something.' Tom lit a cigarette. And what about you? Looks like you've missed your vocation, too. Maybe when you get back to Miami you can try your hand shooting skin- flicks.'
I might just do that.' Goldman glanced at his luminous wristwatch. Speaking of skin-flicks, where the hell are those two girls? I thought they'd be back here by now. We've got a plane to catch.'
They'll be here,' said Tom. Relax, will you? There's plenty of time yet.'
Okay. Do you want to look at it again?'
You look, Alex. I'm going to take a leak.'
Tom went towards the lavatory, and then halfway along the corridor ducked into Alex's bedroom where he quickly searched the other man's coat pockets and briefcase. Instead of the three air tickets to Miami, he found only one air ticket, in Alex Goldman's name. And a Walther automatic with a silencer. Wherever Goldman was planning to take Edith and Anne, it certainly wasn't Miami. Tom thought it looked very much as if Goldman was planning to shoot them both in the car, most likely in the parking lot at Logan.
Tom came back into the lounge and stood at the back of the room, in the shadows, watching the flickering film.
If you'd actually done it,' said Alex. If you'd actually gone ahead and shot him, this would be the most famous piece of film in the world, I guess.'
I guess it would at that,' agreed Tom.
I wonder if we could have got away with it?'
Sure we could. All those students? We'd have been gone with the wind.' Tom paused. When will you take it to Tampa?'
I told Ameijeiras I'd hand him the film the day after tomorrow.'
Alex?' Tom spoke carefully. You will look after those girls, won't you? Make sure they're all right when they get to Miami.'
Yeah, sure. I'll take care of them.'
Tom paused.
That's what I was afraid of,' he muttered.
Hmm?'
Well, I guess I'll be taking the film to Tampa myself, Alex.'
What's that you say, Paladin?'
The film ended and Alex turned to look at Tom in the white light of the Bell and Howell projector. He found himself staring into the silenced barrel of his own automatic.
Jesus Christ, Tom,' Alex said with a smile. What is this?'
Tom said nothing. What was there to say? Was it revenge? Or was it something else? A necessary precaution. Perhaps, in the final analysis, it was a little bit of both.
For Christ's sake, Tom. What's the idea?'
Have gun, will travel,' said Tom, and fired twice in quick succession. The first bullet caught Goldman in the throat, just below the Adam's apple, and, as the impact twisted his body around on the sofa, the second shot struck him in the back, high between the shoulder blades. For a moment Alex Goldman looked too surprised to move. His mouth stayed open on the word he had been about to utter, and then, slowly, he slid silently on to the floor and stayed still.
Tom leaned over the body and pressed his fingers close to Goldman's bloody neck, searching for a pulse. And finding a faint throb, he stood up and fired a third shot into the back of Goldman's head at point-blank range.
That made one for Mary, one for Edith, and one for Anne. Tom sighed and tossed the gun on to the blood- spattered sofa.
Sorry Alex. But you know, I think I'd better drive those two girls to the airport myself. Just in case. I like Edith. Fond of her, even. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her. Not like what happened to Mary.'
Chapter 27
The Cuba Memorandum
Five days later, Raul Roa, the Cuban Foreign Minister, sent a small package to the President-elect of the United States, at the White House, in Washington. The package contained a short memorandum personally written by Roa, and a number of what the memorandum described as evidentiary exhibits'. As a matter of routine the Secret Service removed the package for examination, and all its contents, including the memorandum, were subsequently destroyed. A second identical package, sent to the new Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, met the same fate at the hands of the same, acutely embarrassed, people. A third identical package was sent to Allen Dulles, at the Central Intelligence Agency, and was routinely intercepted by the Security Division. The package eventually found its way on to the desk of Colonel Sheffield Edwards who, upon reviewing its contents, immediately dispatched a number of agents, included Jim O'Connell, to Harvard University.
O'Connell reported back to Washington on the evening of 19 January. As soon as Edwards had heard his subordinate's report, he telephoned Richard Bissell at his home in Cleveland Park, near the Washington Cathedral, and was told that Mr and Mrs Bissell were attending the Pre-Inauguration Gala - a variety show at the city's Armory, hosted by Frank Sinatra. Edwards called the Armory and waited for several minutes while one of Bissell's aides tried to find him, during which time he managed to hear almost all of Ethel Merman singing Give Him the Oo- La-La', which was as near to any kind of Washington gala, or Georgetown party, that Edwards had ever been to. But at last Bissell came to the phone and, hearing Edwards out, called a meeting in his office at eight o'clock the following morning.
Eight inches of snow fell in Washington overnight, which made driving all but impossible. At seven o'clock on the morning of 20 January 1961, as Edwards slowly negotiated the treacherous road between his home and Bissell's L Street office, three thousand servicemen were already hard at work with snow ploughs and bulldozers, shovelling tons of snow into seven hundred army trucks in an effort to get the capital city moving. The sky was blue and the sun was shining, but it was unusually cold, even for Washington, with the temperature ten degrees below freezing. This was still not cold enough to deter the thousands of people all along the Mall, from the White House to the Lincoln Memorial, who had come to see John F. Kennedy become the thirty-fifth President of the United States. Many of them had spent the night sleeping out. And so determined were they to see something of the inauguration that some of them had even lit fires. Driving through the snow, past these fires, and the crowd of vagrant-like
