TATOUR FOUR - 3
By J. A. Stapleton
- 1299 reads
III
Beautiful car he had, that Lincoln Continental, chrome wheels, crisp rectangular body, convertible, American flags, handmade in ’61 for him, beautiful. It’s a damn shame I had to blow his brains all over it.
***
The umbrella went up thirty three seconds before. He was coming. The radio hooted. The index finger on my right hand itched on the trigger. I tilted my cap and acted like a pissed cop on his day off.
You see, I didn’t really want to do it, they paid me and money spoke louder than my sense of patriotism. One of the most dangerous guys with a rifle on the planet I was – and that’s your hint.
’62 I was in Cuba clipping the Beard’s muchachos.
’63 I was cast out, CIA ransacked the operation – Kennedy was saving what was left of his reputation – he bankrupted me.
Late ’63 I worked a coup against Charles de Gaulle – it failed, I went back to America and fell in with some old military pals of mine.
That’s how I ended up behind the picket fence on November 22nd. It was solely for financial gain – no politics intended.
Travel and all other expenses paid. Test run of the XPR Prototype. A cross between a Winchester and a Model 37. Killing machine produced by the CIA on the sly – if you catch my drift. When he got into the KZ it became a free-for-all. $50 for a scalp.
#1’s shot struck a lamppost. #2’s shots caught him in the chest and the Governor in the wrist. Three triggers snapped. The XPR roared. I watched the President’s face blow up. Bone shards hit bystanders. Jackie’s face got residual-spritzed. Big booms overlapped. The chaos topped it I shit-you-not. Fuckin’ Greek tragedy.
The parking lot was no-one-out quiet. I beelined it to the other end. Hopped in the getaway and floored it. My son might understand when he’s older I told myself. When I hit the highway I sobbed up a little. RARE. Cried a little for America. But orders are orders. One Kennedy down: one more left. I just hope they spare his kid at least.
***
Phone booth: one call. No answer. Second: luck.
“Regroup at 15:00 hrs.” Captain X said.
Then, he hung up. And I won my fifty bucks.
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Comments
Hard-boiled, short and sharp.
Hard-boiled, short and sharp. I wanted longer sentences and more characterisation in the middle - but that's because I'm enjoying it. Off to read the rest.
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I agree with London, this is
I agree with London, this is more clipped than the previous parts. I've enjoyed it so far - is there more to come?
One thing I don't understand: what's the KZ?
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The hooks work
I agree with comments above --- it zips along and now from this part we know where the history is. Lee Oswald plus two other shooters and a Captain on the phone. It's well worn but not worn out, but I don't know your word limit. A few other hares have bounced out of your hat (our man's backstory in CIA Cuba and France, his twisted patriotism and confused motives), so to me it feels like a novel off the leash. I'm looking forward to seeing where you take it but meantime I'd cut your list of genres, especially biography and journal. Such an inclusive list sends out contradictory signals and can't be much help to you figuring out where you're going. I'm not picky about getting the period detail totally right but "motherfucking/er" stands out and signals a black guy for that time ---
anyhow, you've cracked off at a rate and it will be good to see the next piece (hopefully longer?).
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