evidence and with photographic material only, the Parkland and the autopsy photos and X rays. I have suggested, without much success, a program of-'
'The photos are faked,' said Phelps, loudly and confidently. 'So are the skull X rays.'
He had their attention.
Without another word he pulled a packet of eight-by-ten glossies out of one of the envelopes and spread them across the desk.
'This is supposed to be the back of Kennedy's head,' Phelps said, 'with the entry wound of the head shot near the cowlick.' He indicated a photograph of the back of the dead man's head, the hair damp and matted, a rubber- gloved hand holding it in position by a lock of hair. 'This is an obvious composite forgery. You can see the matte lines where it was pieced together. That was done, of course, to hide the huge exit wound in the back of the skull.'
Karp stared at the photograph while Phelps traced the supposed join with a pencil. Karp shrugged and said 'Okay, let's say I take your word for it-'
'You don't have to take my word for it. I spoke to Floyd Riebe, the photographer who took the photograph at Bethesda. He said there was a huge hole in the back of Kennedy's head. The Parkland doctors said the same thing originally too. Also, look at this blowup of frame 335 of Zapruder.' He dealt a color eight-by-ten from the stack. 'The top of his head is obviously missing.' They all stared at the blurry horror. Karp turned to Wendt. 'Doc, what do you think?'
Wendt paused judiciously, then responded, 'This is obviously inconsistent with the X rays we have been given.'
Phelps had an answer to that too. He pulled out a positive print of an X ray and placed it next to a different glossy, the most gruesome picture yet. It showed a three-quarter right-side view of the corpse's face, with the brains bubbling up out of the skull like a party hat. 'This is supposed to be a right-side lateral X ray. It shows massive damage to the right front side of the face. But no damage to that side of the face was ever described by any witness, either at Parkland or at Bethesda. And obviously, from this photograph, there's no such damage.'
'Did the Warren people see this stuff?' asked V.T.
'Justice Earl Warren saw them,' replied Phelps in a sneering tone. 'The story is, he was so shocked by them that he refused to allow them to be made public, and they were never shown to the commission.'
While they thought about this, Phelps brought out some more pictures and added them to his gallery on the wooden desk. 'This is a picture of the top of the head. See this line? It's surgery. And nobody ever mentioned a surgical procedure on the top of the head. The Bethesda autopsy team said that the skull was so shattered that they were able to lift the brain out without any further cutting of the skull.'
'What are you saying?' asked Karp uneasily.
'I'm saying that between Parkland and Bethesda, somebody worked on the body. They cut out the brain and modified the skull to make the single-shot-from-the-rear theory plausible.' This was said with profound assurance, as if anyone with eyes could plainly see it.
Karp snapped a lidded-eye look toward V.T., who kept his face blank. It was Wendt who responded first, and with some vigor:
'There is absolutely no evidence for any such interference. None. Nor would any such alterations be feasible in the time allowed, even if we assume that the president's body was so poorly guarded that it could have been removed from its coffin on the presidential airplane and spirited away to a secret dissecting room before being delivered to Bethesda.'
'What about this photograph?' snapped Phelps 'There is clearly evidence of surgery and-'
'So you say,' replied Wendt, 'but I see a badly shattered calvarium from which nearly anything could be construed. I am not a photographic expert, of course, but I believe that interpreting autopsy photographs as to forensic content is well within my professional purview. You say the X rays and some of the prints are faked. It may well be so, but until I and the other members of the forensic pathology panel are so informed officially, we will continue to base our findings on them.'
'What, on faked evidence?' Phelps retorted. 'What's the goddamn point of that!' He addressed Karp, his eyes sparking. 'This is big, damn it. This is evidence of conscious treason by a huge conspiracy involving people close to the top of the government. How else could they have-'
'Stop!' said Karp, holding up his big hand like a traffic cop. Dueling experts, the prosecutor's nightmare, and he was sick of it. 'First of all,' he said sharply, 'treason is not a word I want to hear around this office. We're not investigating treason, we're investigating, if that's still the right word, a homicide.'
'But, it's the president…,' Phelps began.
'Assassinating the president is not treason,' said Karp forcefully. 'Even a coup is not treason. Treason shall consist in levying war against the United States and giving aid and comfort to its enemies. It's in the Constitution, the only crime defined in the Constitution. So forget treason. Conspiracy to commit murder, interfering with an investigation, tampering with and withholding evidence-that's different, and we may have found evidence of all of that. It's enough.' He shot the famous stare around the table. Nobody spoke, and he resumed. 'Now, as to these photos: Jim, write your report. We'll get some independent source to confirm or reject your findings and then we'll see. Dr. Wendt-I'll try to get funds for the sort of experimental testing you're interested in, if you'll give me an outline of the sort of stuff you want to do.'
This speech was delivered in a tone of finality. Phelps, still bristling and muttering, shoved his photographs back into their envelopes. V.T. took him aside and spoke earnestly to him for some minutes in a low voice. Karp turned to the coroner. 'Sorry about this, Doc. Things are apt to get heated around here.'
Wendt tried on a smile. 'It was sweetness and light, I assure you, compared with some of our panel's meetings.'
'Oh? What's the problem? Murray throwing his weight around?'
'Not at all. But there seems to be a certain… reluctance to stray too far from the Warren findings. Whether Mr. Phelps's theories about the documentary material will have any weight with them I can't say.'
Karp couldn't say either. Wendt took his leave and Phelps left too.
'Well, that was certainly fun,' said V.T. when they were alone. He fussed with the projector and began to rewind the film. 'Don't mind Phelps. He really is a top-notch photo analyst.'
'Yeah, with a good imagination. Did you see the back of Kennedy's head missing in that film?'
V.T. shrugged. 'Like you said, we'll get somebody else to check it out.'
'Right. Meanwhile, the inmates are in charge of the asylum. The secret dissection, my God! You know we're doomed, don't you?'
'Semidoomed, maybe. One still has hopes. One of the little threads might pull something loose.'
'Maybe, but I doubt it,' said Karp. 'And you know why?' He clenched his fists and adopted a Job-like pose, his arms and face raised to the uncaring heavens, and shouted, 'Because this isn't a real investigation!'
'My, my, Butch,' said V.T. in a soothing tone. 'You seem to be having a nervous breakdown. Would you like to watch the executions film again? It might settle your nerves.'
Karp snorted and rumbled, 'Speak for yourself, buddy. You look like shit-you must've dropped ten pounds since you got here.'
'Yes, well, as you know, you can't get a decent knish in this town.'
There was some more of this weak humor, and they were laughing companionably when a secretary stuck her head in and said Fulton was on the line and did Karp want it sent in here.
'What's happening, Clay?' said Karp when they were connected.
'I'm at the Sheraton in Reston,' said Fulton. 'This old spooks' meeting's just breaking up.'
'And?'
'Zilch. I waltzed our boy up to Mr. David and he introduced himself as Antonio Veroa. David didn't bat an eye. He just said, 'I'm happy to meet you. I know the name, of course.' Then Veroa moved on. When I asked him if David was Bishop, he looked sort of funny, and he said, 'They are very similar in appearance but that is not Bishop.' '
'Oh, shit!'
'My feelings exactly. So-what should we do with Mr. Veroa now?'
'Crap, I don't know! We might as well ship him back to Miami. Did Al Sangredo pull up anything on the drug charge against Veroa?'
'Yeah, it's apparently some heavy weight of coke, found in his boat. He could go away for a long time.'
