testify about Dick Dobbs. So they said they wouldn't do it, couldn't do it, for national security reasons, and I said in that case, I'd settle for a subpoena duces tecum-the transcripts of all their debriefs of Gaiilov. Well, of course, they said I couldn't have that either. Judge Palmer hemmed and hawed, and I got shouted at a good deal, and accused of being a Red communist myself, but after Palmer had stared down the barrel of the Sixth Amendment for a while, he told them they had to let Gaiilov testify. He said, 'Gentlemen, the Constitution in the instant case allows me no leeway. The witness may indeed refuse to answer on grounds of national security or prior oath, at which point I will make a determination as to whether such refusal is justified, but there can be no prior bar to Mr. Dobbs's right to call whomsoever he will to his defense.' '
'And the government dropped the case.'
'They did.'
'Very fancy,' said Marlene, with sincerity.
'Why, thank you kindly, miss. I thought so myself at the time.'
'Weren't you worried that he might get up on the stand and lie for the Agency and say that Dobbs was the one?'
'Oh, that was a possibility, of course. On the other hand, a good half of the CIA had staked their reputations on the idea that Gaiilov was genuine. If he lied about Dick, I would've treated him as a hostile witness, and then I'd've had reasons to call the CIA big shots up there to confirm, or try to deny, Gaiilov's original exculpation of Dick. No way they were going to open up that bag of cats. They'd've looked like a bunch of fools. And, my dear, if there's one thing the CIA can't stand, it's public embarrassment. They don't mind one bit walking out there to the wall with a blindfold and a last cigarette, but make 'em look like a horse's ass? Hell, they'd do anything on God's earth to stop that.'
'Well, this has been real interesting, Mr. Blaine, and I don't want to take up any more of your time. I'd just like to ask: do you have any material you think would be useful on this project-from the case, or from your association with Mr. Dobbs? And could you give me the names of anyone who might've been familiar with the case that I could talk to?'
There was a pause while the man thought. 'No-o, as for the papers, I think I already sent the case papers and all some years back, when Hank started this thing. I told him then I didn't think it was a good idea to dredge all this up again, but he was determined, so I just sent him a whole stack of stuff.'
'Films too?'
'I guess there might've been some films. Hell, Dick and I could hardly ever tell which of our stuff was whose. He's probably got nearly everything I do. On the people side: hell, it's been a quarter of a century, near about. Like I said, judge, prosecutor, and defendant all in their graves, and the defense's got one foot in. The little fry? Well, any of them who had something to say, they've said it already in books and such. Look, miss, I got to go. This damn nurse's pestering me again, I reckon she found some poor inch of my hide without a needle hole in it and it offends her.'
'Oh, sure, sorry-one last thing. Would you know how I could find out what happened to either Reltzin or Gaiilov? Even if they're dead, they might have had friends or family. There might be papers left behind…'
'Oh, Lord! I couldn't even guess at how to help you there. Reltzin probably got shipped back to the Soviets. They got most of their nationals back in exchanges. Gaiilov? I heard he passed on, the lucky man.'
After she'd hung up, Marlene paged through her notes, puzzled. She found it odd that a man who recalled the exact words of a judge's decision a quarter century past should be so hazy about so much else, for example, about what had become of the Russians. Of course, he was obviously ill, and memory got funny when that happened; for all Marlene knew he had a brain tumor. But that business about overhearing the two CIA guys in a bar-that sounded funny too. She drew a circle around that section of her notes, and around the Russian names, and then made a note to herself to call on Mrs. Selma Hewlitt Dobbs. The Widow.
Karp got through to Ray Guma in New York late in the day.
'Goom? Butch.'
'Butch?' said Guma in exaggerated puzzlement. 'Do I know a Butch?'
Karp said, 'I'm sorry, perhaps I have the wrong number; I was trying to reach the Association of Chubby Italian Attorneys with Mob Connections.'
'Oh, that Butch. You never call, you never write… So, how the hell are ya, buddy? You solve the big one yet?'
'We expect an arrest momentarily. Actually, that's why I called. I'm gonna offer you a rare opportunity to serve your country.'
'Wait a minute, let me put my hand on my wallet. Okay, I got it. Shoot-what can I do for you?'
'The Buonafacci kid you got on that rape charge. I could use a little favor from Tony and I thought it might be better if the ask came from you.'
A loud noise, like the sucking of a gas pump at the dregs of a tank, came through the receiver.
'What's the joke, Goom?' snapped Karp.
'The joke, sonny boy, is that you got to take a number on that one. Stand behind the velvet rope. Narco's drooling, racket's got their nose so far up my ass I don't have room for my hemorrhoids. I'm the queen of the prom on this one. I got to pick and choose.'
'Goom, for Chrissake, it's not the Gambinos' next smack shipment; it's a lousy phone call to a retired wise guy, a soldier, is all. We just want to talk to him, and not about anything that's going to involve Tony or anybody current in any of the families.'
'Who's this soldier?'
'Guido Mosca. Jerry Legs.'
'Oh, yeah! V.T. called me about him a while back. So you found him, huh? I personally never had the pleasure. What, he's in Miami?'
'Yeah. We figure it'll jog his memory if Tony asks him.'
'Yeah, I guess,' said Guma reflectively. 'What do you want to ask him about? Like, did he pop a cap on JFK?'
'No, just some other stuff. About some things that went down in New Orleans in sixty-three. Mosca's name showed up on some documents. He was pally with some guys that Oswald was pally with-it's just background, painting in some of the numbers.'
'You're not off on this horseshit that it was a Mob contract on Kennedy, are you?' Guma asked.
'Well… I'd say it's still on the table. Why?'
'Because it's total garbage,' said Guma angrily. 'The Mob whacks their own guys or guys who take their dough and then try to fuck them. If they whacked people who just pissed them off or put them in jail, Tom Dewey and Estes Kefauver wouldn't have lasted long, not to mention you and me. You know why that is? Back in the nineteen-tens, I forget where, Cincinnati, or Columbus, some old-time wise guys knocked off a crusading police chief, a straight-up guy, just like they used to do in the old country, and what happened was a mob came stomping into the Italian section of town and burned it down and lynched any guinea they could get their hands on. So, since then, it's been a no go: don't fuck with the government guys, except with bribes. The other reason is, the Mob couldn't pull it off, not like whoever actually did it did it.'
'I don't see why not,' said Karp.
'Come on, Butch! It ain't their style. They don't go in for long-gun shots. Bugsy Siegel excepted, I don't know a case in this country where a Mob hit used a rifle. Short range is what they like, or a big bomb.'
'What about Jack Ruby? That was short range.'
Guma chuckled. 'Ah, well, Jack Ruby. I'll give you Jack Ruby.'
'So why did he kill Oswald, if the Mob wasn't involved in the JFK thing?'
'I didn't say they weren't involved. Fuck I know if they were or weren't involved. They're involved in everything else, they might've been involved in this too. They do stuff for money, you know? What I said was, the JFK hit wasn't a Mob contract.'
'Okay, whatever,' Karp said. 'I still need to talk to Jerry Legs. And don't tell me I got to stand on line, because if you do, I'll get on a plane and fly down to Miami and talk to Tony Bones myself, and if your name should come up in the conversation, I don't know, some of the smart shit you've pulled on him over the years might slip out…'
'Ah, Butch, come on, don't even joke about that business,' said Guma, genuine alarm in his voice. Guma had
