Karp sighed and told her about V.T.'s enlightenment concerning the meaning of PXK. He concluded the tale with, 'So according to Newbury, Kelly's yet another of the ten million false trails generated by the assassination. Hell, maybe the chess names are a coincidence too. Nah, that's hard even for me to swallow, that on top of the two murders, and seeing Oswald number two in Miami. I think the killer is really it, the core of the conspiracy. And there's not a goddamn thing we can do about it.'
He told her about Wilkey and the meeting that morning, about V.T. quitting.
'Well, a total disaster,' Marlene said when he was finished. 'What are you going to do?'
'Oh, I'll quit too, I guess. It gripes me, though. I can't make a case, but I'd just like to know who the queen was.'
'Queen?'
'Yeah, that's what V.T. said. King, pawn, knight, rook, bishop. We're not sure about the rook, Turm, except that he was apparently an expert in organizing assassinations, among other things. But the guy behind it all-the master piece on the board-V.T. called him the queen.' He laughed. 'It'd be funny if it turned out to be Clay Shaw, considering.'
'Yeah, but how's this for another fascinating coincidence. You know they have this King Ranch in Texas, supposed to be the largest ranch in the world? Well, when Harley Blaine went back to Texas, he added pieces to his parents' old property and set himself up as a gentleman rancher. And do you know what he called his ranch, the old funster?'
'Don't tell me.'
'Yes. The Queen Ranch.'
They were silent amid the noise from the radio and the TV. Karp reached for her hand. 'Jesus, Marlene, what're we going to do?' It was a rhetorical question, but Marlene responded with scarcely a thought.
'Well, obviously, we have to go and see Blaine. We'll fly out to Texas, to the old Queen Ranch and have a little talk. About Dick Dobbs and John F. Kennedy.'
Karp's wife had once again succeeded in amazing him. 'Why would we want to do that, Marlene?' he asked weakly. 'Why should Blaine talk to us? Because we found one of his home movies? He'll laugh in our faces.'
'No he won't. He'll talk. Maybe not on a witness stand, but he'll tell us what we want to know, which is all that matters right now. Aren't you dying to know how he did it? Speaking of which, he's dying himself. Maybe he's just waiting to spill his guts.'
'That I doubt, considering he's been working like crazy to kill the investigation, which he did. Not to mention killing people in the process. So why is he going to be such a sweetheart with you and me?'
'Because our hearts are pure and because we have a film of him screwing Selma Dobbs and proof that Richard Dobbs was a spy and a traitor. He's not going to want that to get out.'
Karp stared at her. 'Blackmail him? Are you serious?'
'Oh, silly, it won't come to blackmail,' said Marlene lightly. 'It'll be very civilized. I'll send him a copy of the film and tell him what we know about his involvement in Kennedy, and we'll go out there and talk.'
Karp held his hands to his head. 'I don't believe I'm hearing this!' he shrieked. 'If we're right, this guy has already aced a couple dozen people, not to mention the president of the United States. How about if you're wrong and he sends three guys with machine guns? Did you ever think of that?'
They locked eyes for a full minute, tense and breathing hard. At the end of this, Marlene nodded curtly once and got up from her chair. 'Fine, have it your way. I'll pack.'
'What? Wait a minute, Marlene…'
'Why? Why wait? Just call the goddamn office and tell them you're quitting. We can be on the road tonight, running back to New York with our tails between our legs.'
'Marlene…'
She stomped out of the room and he followed her up the stairs to their bedroom, where with violent motions she started flinging drawers open.
'Marlene, stop it!'
She turned to him, eye blazing. 'Why? Hey, you were the one who wanted to find out who whacked JFK. It was no big thing for me. I was happy in New York, remember?'
'You're not being fair,' he said, despising himself for saying it.
'Oh, for Chrissake, what does 'fair' have to do with it. What the problem is, is you still don't trust my judgment. Look-I know this guy. I studied him in films over thirty years. I read nearly everything he wrote. I know how his mind works. I know what the people who were most intimate with him thought about him. I read his fucking love letters. I'm telling you that this will work.'
'And if it doesn't?'
She paused and her face lost some of its tension. He was going to roll on it. 'If it doesn't,' she said, 'we'll both be dead. Which is why I'm going to call Harry Bello to come down here.'
'Bello? Why? What does he have to do with it?'
'Simple. We'll tell him the whole story and leave the stuff in the envelope with him. If anything happens to us, he'll take care of Lucy, one, and two, he'll track them down and kill them all, all the goddamn chessmen, every one.'
Karp let out a long breath. He shrugged. 'Well, since you put it that way, how can I resist?'
'Really?' said Marlene. 'Really and truly?'
'Yeah, uh-huh.'
'How do you feel?' she asked challengingly.
Karp consulted his feelings, always a creaky process.
'Um, relieved, I think. Pumped. Scared shitless.'
She flung her arms around him. They hugged. They kissed, with an intensity they had not experienced for some time. She drew back from him and looked into his face, smiling. She said, 'Good. That's how I feel. If you didn't want to feel like that a lot, you shouldn't have married a Sicilian.'
Marlene threw on her field jacket and her Yankees cap over sweatshirt and jeans and sneakers and drove her car to downtown Rosslyn, a concentration of high-rises and commercial streets across the Potomac from Washington. She stopped first at a bank and drew five hundred dollars against the MasterCard, feeling just a twinge of guilt. After consulting a Yellow Pages, she walked three blocks to a film lab.
Placing the Dobbs film on the counter, she asked how long it would take to make a copy.
The pencil-necked young technician across the counter weighed the film in his hand. 'Beginning of next week?'
'No, I need it now. I mean right now.'
He shook his head. 'No way, lady. I got work piled up-'
'You do this yourself?'
'Yeah, me and another guy.'
'Do mine at the head of the line and it's fifty in cash, under the table.'
'Uh, I don't know…'
'A hundred. Cash.'
He considered this for six seconds. 'Okay, I'll write up a ticket.'
'No ticket. Let's just do it.' She moved down the counter and lifted the flap.
'Hey, um…'
'I'm coming with you. You said you were going to do it now, right?'
'Uh, yeah, but…'
'I want to watch. This is a special film.'
The technician was familiar with 'special films,' although this one was not as naughty as many he'd seen. Two hours later, Marlene, smelling faintly of developer, emerged from the lab and made her way to the local FedEx office. She borrowed a phone and, charging the call to her own phone, got Harley Blaine's mailing address from a polite young voice in Texas. Then she borrowed a pen and paper from the clerk and wrote: Dear Mr. Blaine:
The enclosed film, which no one but me and my husband (and, of course, the photographer) has seen as yet, will be of interest to you. We know about the bishop and the pawn, the knight, the rook and the queen, and what they did. I believe a conversation would be useful. Please call at your convenience. We are prepared to depart for Texas whenever you wish. Like your own, this is not a government operation.
