F i v EChicago, March 1959

EVEN in the early days, when she was so intimidated by even the catering people that she was mostly mute around them, her eyes had been her friends. They had always known how to return a gaze; even if words failed her, she didnt shrink in that way. One prolonged look, and she could tell the story of all the carnal possibilities. She could make love with her eyes. Jack, it seemed, had the same talent. Besides her, he was the shiniest object in the roomhe wore clothes the way she wore clothes; they hung lightly, temporarily, on a body well aware of its valueand even in a room packed with the fashion-able and rich, he never lost sight of her.

When she arrived at the Pump Room, on the second floor of the hotel, he was sitting in a booth, surrounded by men wearing white dinner jackets and deep in conversation. That was two hours ago, and though theyd both flitted from table to tablesaying hello to acquaintances (people shed met at parties, or through her husbands; others who admired her and merely wanted to touch her hand), occasionally accepting invitations to dancethey had not yet spoken.

What the old studio bastards called procrastination, she called patience. This was the essence of performance. She would never shout for attention when she could wait and draw it to her. Occasionally Jack glanced in her direction. Then she looked at him, looked away, lowered her lashes, let her shrouded eyes roll lazily back in his direction. Other women might have worried that they were losing their mark. Not her. She could feel the ten-sion building, and knew the moment he made his move. He rose from the booththe steaks his party had ordered for dinner lay half eaten on platters,

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and the ashtrays overflowedand began to maneuver through the crowd. She rested an elbow on her table, lifted her chin, relaxed her posture, held steady.

Marilyn Monroe, he said, when he was standing before her. He said her name low, emphasizing all five syllables, as though it signified some gor-geous stretch of landscape that he was appreciating for the first time. Then he thrust his hand forward and flashed his grin. Im Jack Kennedy. I hope Im not interrupting. I wanted to tell you I enjoy your pictures.

Thank you, Senator. A silly, suggestive wink as she dangled her fingers in the vicinity of his. Any picture in particular?

All of em. He caught her hand and pulled. Will you dance? Glancing in the direction of her publicity man, he added: If thats all right.

Shed worn her publicity man downhe only waved his hand indif-ferently as she allowed Jack to draw her onto her feet. The evening dress she wore was black, spangled with jet, and though the neck was somewhat higher than usual, the back was open down below the narrow of her waist. As Jack led her to the dance floor, he put his hand on the naked skin of her lower spine. One of her straps slipped, and she left it resting there, halfway between elbow and shoulder.

Ive been thinking about you, he said, leaving one hand on her back and using the other to draw her into a gentle sway. The band was playing mild jazz from a slightly raised stage in the corner, and she smiled at him mistily, as though she might have been thinking about him, too, or might not have. Youre dangerous. They shouldnt let you out looking like that.

They? The government, I guess. But you are the government.Neither had blinked since they began dancing. His face was lit with his

gaze, and though he was not quite smiling anymore his mouth hung open. I guess Id be a hypocrite if I tried passing any laws against you.

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Please dont. I make people happy, you know. I only care whether you make me happy. How am I doing so far?Grand. Others in the room had noticed them, but he didnt seem to

mind. I havent felt this happy in months.Good. She let her heavy lashes kiss the skin of her cheeks. I think Id

enjoy making you happy. They were quiet for a while after that. Now she saw that he wasnt really

so handsomeit was the combination of tanned skin and confident, intel-ligent eyes that made him seem so. In fact, his features were rather piggish. But he was more appealing for it, more original. He was a good dancer, too, and she enjoyed being led. Though he gripped her loosely, she could feel the energy of his bodyits heat was concentrated on her.

Time passed before she spoke again, and the pitch of her voice changed, as when something meaningful has occurred. Where did you come from? she asked.

Washington, he replied bluntly. Mmmmm.. . she purred, as though he were just making sounds and

she was in no state to absorb any information, instead of pressing him, on Alexeis behalf, for some secret detail. So youre here on business?

Pleasure. Come to my room tonight. It was half command, half request. His voice had lowered, too.

She shook her head faintly, a drop of sadness. I cant, she whispered, as though denying herself something she wanted badly. She did want him, a little. But if they went to bed too quickly, she knew he wouldnt talk at all. They couldnt both have what they wanted. But dont leave me yet. Talk to me. I like the way you talk. Tell me anythingabout your work. Did it bring you here?

In a way, he replied evasively, without meeting her eye. The tautness of his muscles changedabruptly his interest had slipped.

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She summoned a pink warmth, let it spread over her cheeks. She averted her gaze before raising it to meet his, the vulnerability quivering and dense. Her body got heavy with it, so he almost had to hold her up. If I did, she went on, helpless and hopeful as a child. If I came to your room, I mean, youd forget about me as soon as you were done, wouldnt you?

A broad like you? He shook his head in disbelief at the suggestion. The moment of his flagging attention had passed; she had him again, and stron-ger this time.

Maybe we could meet in Los Angeles. I keep a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Her voice was halting, as though she were afraid of the suggestion afraid of what it might mean, afraid it might be rejected. My husband prefers New York, so Im more free on the Coast. Plus its so nice in the sunshine, dont you think? When the sun makes your skin real hot. When she said hot she wrinkled up her nose, just like she had for Wilders picture.

Im going there in a couple of weeks. Maybe Ill call you.Would you? she whispered, as though she wanted to trust him but was

afraid to. They looked at each other, and she knew he couldnt wait for it, for balmy California, to hammer her on the sand. She made her eyes big as buttons, like Betty Boop. But tell me something now, she went on in the breathy voice she used when she performed. Tell me a secret. Tell me some-thing real, something you dont want anybody to know. That way Ill have something on you, and youll have to come back and treat me nice. Many times shed practiced saying nice like thatgirlishly, but so that any man who wasnt queer couldnt help but think of the word naughtybut it had never come out of her mouth quite so perfect.

He gave her that swanky grin, and turned her so that she was facing the direction he had been facing a moment ago. Over his white tuxedoed shoul-der she could see the booth where he had eaten dinner, a table full of men who had just been staring at her. Theyd changed their postures quickly, but

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she could always tell, and suddenly she knew what Jack had been doing. Hed been holding her, on that spot, so that his friends would have the best viewthe open back of her dress, that channel of white skin pointing down like an arrow to the fat black-sequined apple of her ass. The corners of her mouth curled, and she let her irises drift up till they were half obscured by her eyelids. Alexei had been rightshe was going to enjoy stealing some-thing from Jack.

See that man with the little glasses and the big sausage nose? You mean at your table? she asked innocently. Yes. The one in the middle? The one whos talking like everyone should pay

attention? Yes, that one. And everybody is paying attention. Thats Sam Giancana

he runs Chicago. What do you mean, runs? She gave him her widest eyes. I mean hes the capo, baby. La Cosa Nostra. Hes in the mob. He is

the mob. Oh. She let the fear shudder down her spine so that hed feel it in his

palmwhich, now that she was turned around and only the band could see her backside, had drifted south. You mean hes one of the bad guys?

Jack just kept giving her that grin, that fence of strong, bright teeth. He doesnt hurt people, does he? The same teeth. But what are you doing sitting at a table with him? I mean, if youre a

senator, isnt it your duty to bring him in or something? Thats not how it works, baby. Not in this world. What are you meeting with him for, then? He told it as matter-of-factly as though it were the story of how he was

going to order his sandwich. Its business. When I make my run for presi-dent, hes going to see that Cook County goes for Kennedy.

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I see, she said and closed her eyes. She rested her head against his shoul-der and let her body relax against his. I mean, arent you big and important, she cooed drowsily. But she wasnt tired. Her mind fizzed with the infor-mation. It had been so easyall shed had to do was act a little dumb and frightened, and hed told her something she already knew was even bigger than Alexei could have hoped for. She was almost sorry that this would be the end of her spying, because in fact she found it quite satisfying. She was a natural, which was probably why they chose her. Perhaps shed always liked digging for secrets.

Then her mind really did drift from their conversation, and she let him sway her for a few more songs. She enjoyed that part toohis appealing, assertive features, his ragged energy, the way the room spun around him like he was its center. After that she yawnedgirlishly, theatrically, sweetlyand told him she had better get her beauty rest.

But Ill see you on the Coast, he said when she stepped away. You better mean it. Remember, if you dont call me, Im going to the

papers with your secret. She winked and let him lead her over to her public-ity man. Jack was back at the booth of cronies before she was out the door, talking about what a fine ass she had, probably, but she didnt care. When she got back to New York she was going to meet her father, and maybe fix things with Arthur, or if not start fresh in Californiashed buy a place in the des-ert, and make Father bacon and eggs for breakfast every morning.

The elevator sank fast through the hotel, the following morning, but she wasnt frightened. She hadnt slept much, and for once this caused her no agi-tation. She was alert, and her eyes in the mirrored walls that had contained her first meeting with Jack were shining and focused. She felt everythingher hair framing her face, a pulsing from the soles of her feet, the collar of her fur coat against her jaw as she hugged it close to her body. When she stepped onto the curb outside the Ambassador East, she saw Alexei right away. He

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was carrying a sign that said TWENTIETH CENTURY-FOx, and wearing a chauf-feurs hat and the suggestion of a smile that was for her alone.

Leaving her publicity man to deal with her luggage, she wordlessly allowed Alexei to hold the door for her. She situated herself in the backseatcrossed legs, compact held aloft so that she could check her lipstick. It wasnt until hed pulled onto the freeway that she put away her makeup things and met his gaze in the rearview mirror. He had been watching her already, and she gave him the knowing, mischievous smile of a former lover who has never really gone away.

How was last night, my dear? he asked, returning her smile. Good. She beamed. I think youre going to be kinda impressed with me. The senator liked you, then? Yes, right away. Does he trust you?Oh, I dont know about that. I dont think trust means very much with a

man like that. He thinks Im not too sharp, thats the important thinghe didnt worry much about telling me important things, because he believes Im too dumb to understand.

The face Alexei gave her was better than any shed ever gotten from a director. You reallyhow do you say?got his number, didnt you?

Yes. She savored the yesthey both didas he maneuvered the car across the vast lavender ribbon of expressway.

And what did he tell you, my dear? He told me... She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. He told me the

reason he was in Chicago. Which was? He was in Chicago to see Sam Giancana, the man who runs the

Chicago Outfit. The story, as she recounted it, sounded almost harmless and quaint, like the oft-recited words of a fairy tale on the lips of a child. She closed her eyes and listened to herself tell the ending: He was there

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to make a deal with Giancana, so that when he runs for president, Illinois will go for Kennedy.

Beneath her white pumps, through the floor, she could feel the cars wheels slow slightly; Alexei was changing directions to bring her to her father. He was close by, and as a reward she would be taken there in time to make him coffee and read him the headlines. But when she finally opened her eyes she saw that the car was moving along in the same pathit was only that other cars were denser around them now, so he couldnt maintain the same speedand his gaze was no longer focused on her.

Isnt that what you wanted? She hoped her voice wasnt really so pathetic. I knew that already, he replied quietly. He didnt need to express his

disappointment, because it was obvious in his changed posture. How do you think I knew hed be in Chicago in the first place? We have a girl in Giancanas organization.

The skin of her face went cold and her stomach made a fist as she appre-hended what Alexei was involved inwhat she, by extension, was involved in. She thought of the little man at Kennedys booth, his small glasses and thin lips, his shoulders creeping up around his neck like the shoulders of all corrupt people. About how he was a killer. The nameless girl who reported to both Alexei and Giancana was a killer, too. And so was Alexei, probably, if the situation demanded.

Youre not going to introduce me to my father, then? She didnt sound like a child anymore, and her face was turned away.

He ignored her question. How did you leave it with Kennedy? The fur coat was draped over her shoulders, and under its cover she fixed

her arms across her chest. He said hed call me when hes in California next, she replied vaguely to the windowpane.

Good. Then thats where youre heading. Ill take you to the airport and get you a ticket. It will appear natural enoughits what Arthurs been ask-ing for; he wont object. And if you stay longer than planned, you can tell him

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that youre seeing to his business, both your business, by trying to convince Mr. Gable to be in the picture. We understand Arthur hasnt been able to convince Mr. Gable to play Gay yet.

Thats because Arthur doesnt understand Mr. Gable, she snapped bit-terly, before she thought to ask how Alexei knew about The Misfits, Arthurs latest obsession, or what she and Arthur fought about in private. He doesnt understand anybody besides himself.

But you do. It will be good cover for you, and if youre doing a little business it will be a perfect excuse to go to parties and see a lot of Kennedy.

Suddenly her head hurt, and the miles of expressway, the tangle of traffic, the great distance that lay between her and the airport lounge and a good, strong drink seemed impassible, impossible. When do I get to meet him, Alexei?

He glanced up at her in the rearview, and must have seen how her eyes burned when she asked this. He knew she meant her father, and did not make her say so out loud. Once youve done this one thing for us, then you can meet him. He was patient again, but some of the kindness was gone. Go to California. Wait for Kennedy. Let him romance you. Get him to tell you something. Anything. I want to know something about Mr. John Kennedy that no one else knows.