The Day John Fitzgerald Kennedy Past. Welby Thomas Cox, Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ his heart’s desire, pro-Castro, pro-Russian…we perfect his MO…it’s not every day, or everyone who shoots at the President.”

      “Let the Frenchman bring him in.” Mick said.

      Louie’had witnessed a flight of a U-2 once and as it taxied to the hanger, the sight of the huge black aircraft gave him a hard-on. This massive black chunk of technology just fell out of the sky and the handlers went to work on the wings tips folded up under a glider frame. The plane was capable of climbing at an angle steeper than forty-five degrees, soaring to eighty – five thousand feet with an armed camera path over a hundred miles wide. Dark lady of espionage, the Soviets called her.

      Louie’checked the lights and the oven before the real heat was turned on upstairs. After Louie’ had spread his wings, he was surprised that his wife wasn’t sleeping.

      “Who was that on the phone?” She asked.

      “Michael Flynt, you know him, met him on that Boca Raton trip.”

      “What did he want?”

      “He was just nosey tonight.”

      “Some nights I just need to be held Louie’, tonight you opened all my pores, my eyes, my heart. All my senses have been flushed and I have this raw energy. I want to talk about anything that has to do with you. Cover me as you did once, but fill me now with sweet words of wisdom…two old buddies in the cold of the night.”

      “Sounds kinky!”Louie’ said. “But that is what I like about you; you have a way of getting my blood boiling.”

      “Was it sexy stuff? Did you tell him that you were about to fuck my brains away?”

      “No my love, much sexier than that… It was about a U-2 spy plane which detected the missiles the Soviets had shipped and were installing in Cuba. President Kennedy viewed the e films which clearly showed the installation.”

      “You really get off on this spy game; it’s your porno, isn’t it?”

      “It’s all I know love.”

      “Tell me!”

      “This plane can see up to three hundred miles, what you can see at a hundred feet. The plane sees and hears…the on-board system collects and processes the data. All the secrets around the world from our enemies to our friends.”

      “Isn’t it just one of the marvels of nature to cool down on a night like this by the breath of God?”

      Chapter X

      THE TRAINING TAKES PLANCE

      The Flight he had taken from Virginia arrived late, and Mick Flynt was concerned that his meeting with Ray Ray Beltray might be at risk. He knew Ray Ray had driven, so maybe, he'll be content to chill-out, get some shut-eye and wait him out at the gates to the farm, the CIA's secret training facility. It was unusual for these flights to be late, they operated military cover and where used mostly by the company with short-term business.

      The Farm was known officially by the coded cryptonym, "Isometric” one of the thousands of codes managed by a secret society who maintained the code book. This group was a closed frat house. There were never any leaks, nor did the men selected ever leave for greener pastures unless carried on the shoulders by six team members. Camp Abe was the Farm, and the Farm was Isometric and Isometric was something else which led to a vault a thousand feet beneath Fort Knox.

      Mick smiled at the guard and passed along his coded badge which revealed to the trained eye the level of his security clearance. Mick had been demoted as a result of the reprimand, shipped off to the floor crew and was issued a new badge which contained a new set of codes. Mick had always secretly wanted a home address with a single number maybe that would happen on his ID.

      He found Ray Ray inside the gatehouse lounge where he had talked his way into a cup of coffee. His reputation had preceded him and he was entertaining the MP's with stories of declassified company activity. Ray Ray was dressed appropriately for military post and may have been taken for a Gunny if the colors had not been changed.

      The two men waved good-bye to an obliging group of MP's and went to the training area where instructors were covering counter­intelligence and paramilitary arts. They sat on one of the four bleachers which encircled the training field and watched the competition by a small group in hand-to-hand combat. An instructor hooted and hollered to correct any flawed move which may one day save his life.

      "We got a major break," Ray Ray started. "But things have stalled somewhat."

      "Give it to me straight, I got some heat."

      "I went down to New Orleans from the Denton meeting and had a good session with Guy Banister.

      "Still on Camp Street?" Mick asked.

      "Yep, run down as ever, but good cover for a covert activity. Guy spoke to the FBI in Dallas; our boy flew the coup with his wife and baby."

      "So the FBI doesn't know where they are?"

      "Are you joking, the FBI wouldn't know if the kid was stepping on their heels, and besides I didn't want to show a big interest."

      "Wise guy."

      "So, Banister doesn't know either." Mick asked.

      "Mick you know these guys better than I do, they play these little cat and mouse games, to see what is in it for them, and to determine the level of your intelligence."

      "Yeh, we have a little time, so don't put the heat on...and we haven't clearly placed this guy on the team...just a prospect."

      "Hell if that falls apart, I'll take the shot...what would be wrong with that?"

      "Look Ray Ray, I don't want to pump-up your head but the CIA figures your level of expertise would cost a million bucks to replace." Mick said.

      "So that is why they gave me a demotion." They laughed.

      "What about Louie' de what’s his name?"

      "He's in Haiti; again I don't want him close to the plan, the guys an octopus."

      "Do you think this kid is our man?" Mick asked.

      "Sounds right, politically and otherwise. Wagner is insisting on a shooter with metals. The kids an ex-Marine. I got his M-1 score and some of his other records." Ray Ray said.

      "Can he shoot?"

      "Spotty record!"

      "Maybe he cheated, remember this kid has mental issues and loves to play games."

      "From day-one I have had a nagging problem with this guy, if he chooses to go it alone in that final moment when the shots wake the monster in him and he unloads the shot that kills the President...we all have to remember this is a twenty-one year old punk-kid." Mick said.

      "You asked for something realistic, something the press and intelligence would not recognize as a ploy...we got three maybe four shooters and Lancer is in the middle with multiple rounds of munitions flying from various vantages."

      "Yes, there is risk." Mick said.

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