He had always been taught that the road to wealth and privilege was to follow the wealth. American genius aside, the road to the development of any invention was fraught with traps from lawyers stealing it, to the virtual loss of control to share-holders and hostile take-over’s and the money lenders. Mick believed that a man had to bide his time while on the look-out for assets that could be verified and then leveraged in a TRUE ARBITRAGE.
The CIA held huge collections on intelligence of most of the southern hemisphere. Mick had invested time in Cuba, designing business plans with the blessings of the Batista government. He'd arranged mineral surveys, land development analysis, drilling contracts and Casino franchises. He traveled all over the world to discover its discontent...and when all else was failing around him, he still had the unproven oil properties in Cuba.
After Batista got the boot, a plan was put into motion to invade. Mick set-up several dummy corporations, which in many cases were difficult for him to determine who was what and that was a good thing. The corporate board always contained close family and former high-ranking intelligence officers. It was a business plan based in large part of the greater world where business has an almost surreal sense of overlap. This plan differed, it was tighter, and these were men dedicated to the perfection of history and their place in it.
Louis Wagner had discovered that JFK would not support air cover for the Cuban invasion. No one could believe how cruel and stupid this was on the part of the President.
Michael Flynt arrived from Miami, wrote a letter of resignation and flew back to Miami to be with the exile leaders under wraps in an old barracks at Opa-Locka in order to prevent leaks on the landing. He knew the men were not prepared to heal the carnage on the beach to friends and family and he wanted to be there to console them.
From the moment the CIA monitored a rebel broadcast on January 1, 1959, announcing that the tyrant Batista had fled the country at 2:00am and that Fidel Castro was now the leader of the country. From that moment until now, four and one-half years later, Louis Wagner had been in one plot or another to retake Cuba. His wife called it "The last call for the dining hall".
He'd have nothing to do with the gambling interest that carried cash out while buying off government officials sending camping bags through the Bahamas to the banks in Switzerland. He wanted nothing to do with those Dagoes.
Chapter XI
LEE HARVEY OSWALD
"I want to apply for a job." A young man said to Rita Simpson, Guy Banister Detective Agency the rattle of the big front door. She was startled to see the young man standing three feet from her. It was disconcerting because she was alone. She would ask Mr. Banister if she could lock the door until Mr. Ferre' came to work, giving her the chance to "size them up."
But she decided in that brief moment that she wouldlet this young man come in. That was her first mistake. Looks are deceiving; this was a natural born killer who disliked most people, especially women.
Rita smiled at him, her bright red freckles spread across her nose and her green eyes sparkled. The young man had often fantasized about redheaded women. There were many jokes in the barracks about the flaming red bush and how intensely hot red heads where. She had very white teeth but she was on the frumpy side. He did not smile back.
He was non-threatening, this young man, maybe 21, clean shaven with a military crew cut. His slacks and shirt were neatly pressed and he wore a thin black tie and matching belt which he secured on the right hip area. He looked like a Fuller Brush salesman, or an insurance premium collector.
"I seenyour sign in the window for an investigator to do undercover work." He said politely.
"Yes, please take this application, fill it out and return it to the office." she said handing him the application.
"I enjoy going to political meetings, and I am especially effective talking to the students at the University." he smiled.
She noticed that his teeth where clean but they were small and spaced.
"What would you say to them?"
"Oh I would begin by asking them where they are from and maybe what high school they went to back home...maybe I would ask them about the family...small talk just to make them comfortable." he said.
"And then." She gestured with hands to the throat, "You move in for the real dope?"
He laughed. "Something like that, try to get them to express any preference for either side of the political spectrum."
"You have to be careful to get their opinion and not that of their friends or their parents.”
"I have a lot to learn but I do know that this process is very sensitive and strange in a way because I have seen so many people that will deliberately tell you a lie...and you have to try to watch the eyes.” he smiled again.
"That is very perspective of you."
"Well I think it helps that I have been in the Marines, I have traveled all over the world, you know Japan; I lived in Russia and married a Russian woman." He said.
"Do you speak the language?"
"I am getting better at it, but I want our baby to speak English...my wife too...We are Americans first and foremost,” he said.
“I have papers for an alias, and I have a valid passport, I also know how to type for filing my reports, and I do not smoke in the office."
"Boy or girl?" She asked.
The question caught him off-guard and he stammered "Well, she, she is a girl." He responded proudly.
"The job pays well for a starting position."
"That is why I am here, I work around the corner at the coffee roaster, make nothing and it is a really dirty job."
"It takes a lot of money to raise a baby." she said, "And all that dust is unhealthy."
"You are very nice to speak to me."
"Well you look and sound like the type person Mr. Banister is looking for...and honey I'll put in a good word for you." she smiled in her best southern belle look with all the charm of a fully matured woman behind it, not a come on, but definitely not a put off. It gave him urges in a place that was rarely fulfilled these days with the wife still recovering.
"Thank you Ma’am, I'll bring the application back tomorrow."
The young man left as silently as he had arrived. Rita liked that, she was partial to men who were quiet and unassuming...loud, boastful men where turn offs and she always ignored them.
David Ferre' came from the men's room, drying his hands and tossing it into the trash, "Who was that sweet voice." He asked glancing at the door.
"Now, Now Mr. Ferre' you know what the boss says about the employees..."
Ferre' cut her off. "Yes, but he should practice what he preaches." he smiled.
Rita blushed and it was obvious with the blood rushing to her very white complexion.
"He wants to be an undercover agent." She said "I'd like to get him under the covers."
"Have you ever been with a woman, David...? I mean Mr. Ferre'?"
"What kind of question is that from such a sweet young Catholic girl...it will be the Saturday morning confessional for you...and might I ask have you been with a woman?"
"I asked first." She laughed.
"Well for now we have asked the question, and it may be best to let it lie."
"You are a very smart man, Mr. Ferre'."
Ferre' went into Mr. Banister's office which had floor to ceiling windows and looked out to the street which was busy at this hour of the morning but the sweet voice had flown the coop. Ferre' shrugged his shoulders and thought, "Just what the doctor