The Third Bullet - Страница 61

“You must have brass balls, Irishman,” said Lon.

“Learned in the bog, sir,” said Jimmy.

“Tell me the rest, will you?” Lon said. “I don’t get it. I need to believe in it, and bloody Hugh here was so gung-ho and excited, I couldn’t follow him. I’m jumpy. I have to hear it from its author and know it’s going to work.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Scott,” said Jimmy.

“It’s a very good plan,” I said. “But we do need input. We need to know what to look for.”

Lon shook his head sadly.

“Tomorrow morning,” explained Jimmy, “around ten, I’ll show up at the Dal-Tex Building dressed in my best suit, my hair all pomaded fine-like, my eyes twinkly, my demeanor all charming Irish boyo. I will go into six offices on each of the fourth, fifth, and sixth floors of the Dal-Tex Building, those that front Elm as it nears Houston, and those on Houston as it looks down Elm. From any of those offices, Elm, as it passes the Book Depository and Dealey on its way to the triple overpass, is easily reached from the angle we need.

“In each office-I know what they are, I’ll spare you the details, but they’re garment wholesalers who move goods to Texas retailers in and around Dallas, some ladies’ lingerie, some men’s haberdashery, a tie specialist, two shoe lines, the rag trade, in short-and I’ll introduce myself to the girl and present her with my card.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of cards.

JAMES DELAHANTY O’NEILL

“JIMMY”

REPRESENTING

PREMIERE FASHIONS, BOSTON, MASS. 02102

DA9-3090

TELEX 759615 PREMIERE

“Then I hit her with my patter. Jimmy O’Neill, down from Boston, representing Premiere Fashions, purveyors of fine suitings, ladies’ wear and lingerie, and gents’ haberdashery. There is such a place, all will know it, but it’s not in this market. My pitch: we’re thinking of expanding, going national with the fine economy we’re experiencing, and I’m on a look-see tour to gauge the interest and was wondering if I could get a minute with the boss man to see if he’d be likely to take on a new line. In all instances, the answer should be no, not today. The reason is that the president’s coming to town, and we’re closing down the office from noon till two to go out and wave at the great young fellow. Darn, I say laughingly, my luck! I’ve seen him a thousand times in Boston, even in bars and restaurants, but I pick a day to come to Dallas, where nobody’s seen him, when he himself is here. She laughs and ushers me out.

“Of course, I’m scouting. First, will the office be closed? Second, how good is the angle to the street, particularly since we’re guessing the idiot will find some way to miss his first shot at the corner and Mr. Scott will have to pick it up as the limo goes down Elm and that little hill. Third, how big is the staff, in case there are any Republicans who might stay behind because they’re not about to admit a Democrat Irishman has become president. Fourth, what kind of lock’s on the door, and will it be easy to pop if I come back. Fifth- What’s fifth, you tell me. That’s what I need to know.”

“The windows,” said Lon. “We couldn’t tell from the street how they opened. We need an old-fashioned sliding window, up and down. No foldouts, because their hinges don’t let them fall low enough to be out of the line of fire.”

“Very good, sir,” said Jimmy.

“Books,” said Lon. “I’ve got to stabilize the rifle on something other than my lap. A heavy board that slides across and is supported on the arms of the chair would be best, but I can’t ask for that, I know. You’d never get it in. The best thing would be some heavy books to pack onto my lap. I’ll rest my elbows on them. That’s a request, not a demand. If it comes to it, we can secure the chair, and I can make that shot offhand. I still shoot offhand, sitting offhand, and I’m damned good, but the books would be helpful.”

“Books it’ll be, then,” said Jimmy.

“Finally, you said fourth, fifth, and sixth floors?”

“I did.”

“I’m thinking fifth is the preferable by far. I need as little angle downward as possible. Not for the shooting but for my placement in the room. If I’m on the sixth floor, I’ll have to be close to the window and maybe projecting the muzzle of the rifle beyond it in order to get the low angle. Not good, especially as it lets the muzzle of the suppressor out into the air, and the sonic boom won’t be contained in the room.”

“Is that it, Lon?” I asked.

“I can’t think of anything else,” Lon said.

“All right,” said Jimmy, “let me sum up how I see it happening. I find the most suitable of the offices that matches everything or nearly everything. I tell you by telephone which it is. Then I go back to the hotel, and around noon, I slip the rifle in its straps about my neck and cover it with the overcoat. I amble back through the crowds heading to the plaza to see the young president, head down Elm, and casually dip into the Dal-Tex Building. Should get there around twelve ten. No problem, though there is a busy sheriff’s station to the right of the lobby, but it’s a fine public building of commerce, with constant, unmonitored, in-out. I take the elevator to the proper floor. I’m guessing the place is largely deserted. I get to the office, pop the lock, slip inside. Quickly, I break out the rifle parts and assemble the rifle as Mr. Scott has shown me.

“You fellows hit the building at about twelve twenty. By that time most of the crowd has gathered and is awaiting His Highness. Mr. Meachum pulls Mr. Scott’s chair up the three steps and into the lobby, and again takes the elevator to the proper floor. Down the hall to the office. It’s open, and you slip in, time about twelve twenty-five. No need to rush, but we all know what’s got to happen. I’ll have cleared a space near the window and the rifle, loaded and assembled, will be there.”

“By the way,” said Lon, “the cartridge is too long to feed up through the magazine. You’ll have to carefully thread the rim into the bolt, then slide it forward. Only one. No need or time for a second. I’ll show you later.”

“Got that, sir. Then Mr. Meachum pushes Mr. Scott to the shooting position, and I pile and arrange the books in his lap. We hear the roar of the crowd as the motorcade comes down Main a block over, turns down Houston, then turns again down Elm. Mr. Meachum raises the window-”

“Say,” I said, “maybe it would be better if you opened the window first thing. That way, there’s no chance of somebody across the street being attracted to the moving window and then seeing evidence of the shot. I’m guessing even with the silencer, there’ll be some burst of gas.”

“That’s good,” said Lon. “It won’t be much, and it’ll be so light that I doubt it’ll be observable, but why take the chance?”

“So be it,” said Jimmy. “The second the job is done, down comes the window.”

“Shouldn’t he do that last?” Lon asked. “Anybody who hears a trace of the noise might have oriented to Dal-Tex and could catch the motion.”

“That’s good, sir,” said Jimmy. “Consider it done. Anyhow, I remove rifle and books from Mr. Scott, and Mr. Meachum wheels him out, down the corridor, and I’m guessing out of the building within two minutes, well before the police can have gotten over to seal it or investigate, though I’m sure they’ll be concentrating on our friend in the next building who’s making all the noise. In any event, it’s a man in a wheelchair and his attendant, who’d suspect them of mischief? Off you go, in whichever direction seems feasible, until you’re well clear of the mess. Possibly you stop off for lunch. Then back to the hotel.

“As for me, I break down the rifle, repack it in the whatever-you-want-to-call-it, throw on the coat, replace the books, close that pesky window as mentioned, and slip out, using my toys to lock the door. I’m out of the building a few minutes after you.”

“I thought of one more thing,” said Lon. “It just occurred to me. I don’t think it matters in the hallways, because there’s a lot of traffic, but if you can, the office has to have linoleum or bare wood. See, I’m a heavy guy, and the wheelchair leaves tracks. If they get back tomorrow and someone notices these mysterious wheelchair tracks on the floor, again, questions may be raised, maybe, I don’t know how investigations work, maybe-”

“It’s good,” I said. “The tracks, that’s very good. Jimmy, also try to find an office with thirteen-year-old Glenlivet Gold. Not the Glenlivet Red, but the Gold. I might want a highball during the-”

Everybody laughed, and so for the first time, I felt slightly optimistic.

I didn’t feel like breakfast that morning, but after a sleepless night, I had to get some air. Around 8 a.m. I left the hotel and took a little walk around downtown. It was dowdy, even shabby, since the miracle of Dallas with its steel and chrome skyline was years off. Absent the glow of the flying red neon horse fifteen or so stories up the Magnolia Oil Company building, it just looked crummy. The sky threatened rain, but the fresh air felt good to my lungs. The temperature would rise a bit, into the high fifties or low sixties, and these trees, at least, had lost most of their leaves, which blew about in the skittish wind. In those days, everyone raked their leaves, then piled them at the curb and burned them, so the odor of burning leaves was ever-present during the autumn; I tasted it as well, enough to give the air texture and remind me of boyhood days before I got myself into the president-killing business. (Remember the coup in Saigon? I’d killed other presidents.)