“Your customer assumes terms are the same as last time, with the exception that the amount has been increased to reflect inflation.”
“This conversation never happened.” Cleo veritably ran from the bank. Ducked into the train. Immediately transferred 50% of her balance to another bank. How did they find her and how much do they know, she wondered. Then she walked to a news stand and bought every periodical and paper on it.
Within a day she was sitting on a nondescript freighter for America, considering options. “Why Bobby Kennedy?” she wondered. “Should I accept?” There were no options for rejecting the assignment, although she thought she might transfer all but $5M from the account and instruct her banker to return that amount. Ultimately, she opted to keep the deposit and the assignment, but decided she would manipulate a new trigger.
Review of Bobby Kennedy’s positions included strong anti-communism, progressive rights for United States citizens, alignment with “flower children” (Kennedy staffers hated all uniforms, be they military or law enforcement) and an interest in supporting the state of Israel. “Israel… our old slaves?” wondered Cleo.
One of Bobby Kennedy’s anti-communist colleagues was a hotel magnate, David Schine. That might be helpful, she thought. The Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, was owned by Schine, and famous for its club, the entertainment there.
Cleo decided the Israeli link was most interesting and enrolled in a popular Palestinian alma mater of the day, Hartnell College. She contemplated her romantic options… first considered in many, many, years.
In one class, a student raved against Israel. Evidently Israel’s victory in the six day war drove young Sirhan and his family to the Old City of Jerusalem, a miserable place for a childhood. She smiled at him, and they had lunch. The Egyptian past was an interesting tie. Wasn’t hard to direct his anger from general anti-Zionism to hi-profile Kennedy, who promised to send the Israeli’s a bunch of US Phantom jets.
She thought about options. Street cars might be a challenge, she thought. Large caliber firearms are out of favor, she thought. 22 calibers are very accurate… and relatively quiet.
She and Sirhan traveled to Los Angeles in May. One day he showed her a 22 pistol he bought. “This guy is crazy,” she thought, one night before heading to the Coconut Grove for a vodka. The guy who bought it … said his name was Cesar. “I have an affinity for that name,” she said smiling, when he offered to buy her another. He was a security officer and liked the idea of working for the Kennedy campaign. Since police weren’t allowed to protect the candidate, staffers were exploring other options.
She found a little closet which shared a wall with the kitchen that night. A week later she cut a square hole at sitting height, then carefully reinserted the piece. It wasn’t hard to insert a false ceiling and place her Savage/Stevens 22 in the space above.
Cleo wore her favorite polka-dot dress the night of the California primary victory. She walked from the Coconut Grove with Sirhan, then whispered she forgot her coat. He glared at her… she knew he had his new pistol in his coat.
Cesar guided the Senator into the hotel kitchen, where a group wanted to shake the hand of a rising star.
With the commotion around the candidate in the kitchen, no one noticed her, even with the blue polka dots. She removed the rifle from the ceiling cavity and sat in her supported firing position. She pulled out the piece she had cut from the wall and gazed through the scope, waiting for her moment.
Just as the firing started, Kennedy stepped into her observation window. Cleo squeezed off two rounds intended for a spot behind the candidate’s ear. She saw him fall, then replaced the wall segment and returned the rifle to the ceiling cavity. She left her little closet and walked out of the hotel, never to return.The second five million arrived in her account the next day. She arrived in London the following week.
Buy Ukraine Skies, Baltimore Lights here.
Buy the prelude, Jung-gug-in, here.