Blood's a Rover: A Novel - Couverture rigide

Ellroy, James

Couverture rigide

ISBN 10 : 0679403930 ISBN 13 : 9780679403937

Editeur : Alfred a Knopf Inc, 2009

Synopsis

Physical description: 633 p. ; 25 cm. Subjects: Nineteen sixties — Fiction.

A propos du livre

Extrait

Part I
 
CLUSTER FUCK
 
June 14, 1968-September 11, 1968  
 
Wayne Tedrow Jr.
 
(Las Vegas, 6/14/68)  
 
HEROIN: He'd rigged a lab in his hotel suite. Beakers, vats and Bunsen burners filled up wall shelves. A three-burner hot plate juked small-batch conversions. He was cooking painkiller-grade product. He hadn't cooked dope since Saigon.  
 
A comp suite at the Stardust, vouchered by Carlos Marcello. Carlos knew that Janice had terminal cancer and that he had chemistry skills.  
 
Wayne mixed morphine clay with ammonia. A two-minute heating loosened mica chips and silt. He boiled water to 182°. He added acetic anhydride and reduced the bond proportions. The boil sluiced out organic waste.  
 
Precipitants next-the slow-cook process-diacetyl morph and sodium carbonate.  
 
Wayne mixed, measured and ran two hot plates low. He glanced around the suite. The maid left a newspaper out. The headlines were all him.  
 
Wayne Senior's death by "heart attack." James Earl Ray and Sirhan Sirhan in stir.  
 
His front-page ink. No mention of him. Carlos had chilled out Wayne Senior. Mr. Hoover chilled out the backwash on the King/Bobby hits.  
 
Wayne watched diacetyl mass build. His blend would semi-anesthetize Janice. He was bucking for a big job with Howard Hughes. Hughes was addicted to pharmaceutical narcotics. He could cook him up a private blend and take it to his interview.  
 
The mass settled into cubes and rose out of the liquid. Wayne saw photos of Ray and Sirhan on page two. He'd worked on the King hit. His worked it high up. Freddy Otash ran fall guy Ray for King and fall guy Sirhan for Bobby.  
 
The phone rang. Wayne grabbed it. Scrambler clicks hit the line. It had to be a Fed safe phone and Dwight Holly.  
 
"It's me, Dwight."  
 
"Did you kill him?"  
 
"Yes."  
 
" 'Heart attack,' shit. 'Sudden stroke' would have been better."   Wayne coughed. "Carlos is handling it personally. He can frost out anything around here."  
 
"I do not want Mr. Hoover going into a tizzy over this."   "It's chilled. The question is, 'What about the others?' "  
 
Dwight said, "There's always conspiracy talk. Bump off a public figure and that kind of shit tends to bubble. Freddy ran Ray covertly and Sirhan up front, but he lost weight and altered his appearance. All in all, I'd say we're chilled on both of them."  
 
Wayne watched his dope cook. Dwight spieled more news. Freddy O. bought the Golden Cavern Casino. Pete Bondurant sold it to him.  
 
"We're chilled, Dwight. Tell me we're chilled and convince me."  
 
Dwight laughed. "You sound a little raw, kid."  
 
"I'm stretched a bit thin, yeah. Patricide's funny that way."  
 
Dwight yukked. The dope pots started boiling. Wayne doused the heat and looked at his desk photo.  
 
It's Janice Lukens Tedrow, lover/ex-stepmom. It's '61. She's twisting at the Dunes. She's sans partner, she's lost a shoe, a dress seam has ripped.  
 
Dwight said, "Hey, are you there?"  
 
"I'm here."  
 
"I'm glad to hear it. And I'm glad to hear we're chilled on your end."  
 
Wayne stared at the picture. "My father was your friend. You're going in pretty light with the judgment."  
 
"Shit, kid. He sent you to Dallas."  
 
 
 
Big D. November '63. He was there that Big Weekend. He caught the Big Moment and took this Big Ride.  
 
He was a sergeant on Vegas PD. He was married. He had a chemistry degree. His father was a big Mormon fat cat. Wayne Senior was jungled up all over the nut Right. He did Klan ops for Mr. Hoover and Dwight Holly. He pushed high-line hate tracts. He rode the far-Right zeitgeist and stayed in the know. He knew about the JFK hit. It was multi-faction: Cuban exiles, rogue CIA, mob. Senior bought Junior a ticket to ride.  
 
Extradition job, with one caveat: kill the extraditee.  
 
The PD suborned the assignment. A Negro pimp named Wendell Durfee shivved a casino dealer. The man lived. It didn't matter. The Casino Operators' Council wanted Wendell clipped. Vegas cops got those jobs. They were choice gigs with big bonus money. They were tests. The PD wanted to gauge your balls. Wayne Senior had clout with the PD. He had JFK hit knowledge. Senior wanted Junior there for it. Wendell Durfee fled Vegas to Dallas. Senior doubted Junior's balls. Senior thought Junior should kill an unarmed black man. Wayne flew to Dallas on 11/22/63.  
 
He did not want to kill Wendell Durfee. He did not know about the JFK hit. He got paired up with an extradition partner. The cop's name was Maynard Moore. He worked Dallas PD. He was a redneck psycho doing gofer jobs on the hit.  
 
Wayne clashed with Maynard Moore and tried not to kill Wendell Durfee. Wayne blundered into the hit plot in post-hit free fall. He linked Jack Ruby to Moore and that right-wing merc Pete B. He saw Ruby clip Lee Harvey Oswald on live TV.  
 
He knew. He did not know that his father knew. It all went blooey that Sunday.  
 
JFK was dead. Oswald was dead. He tracked down Wendell Durfee and told him to run. Maynard Moore interceded. Wayne killed Moore and let Durfee go. Pete B. interceded and let Wayne live.  
 
Pete considered his own act of mercy prudent and Wayne's act of mercy rash. Pete warned Wayne that Wendell Durfee might show up again.  
 
Wayne returned to Vegas. Pete B. moved to Vegas for a Carlos Marcello gig. Pete followed up on Durfee and logged tips: he's a rape-o shitbird and worse. It was January '64. Pete heard that Wendell Durfee had fled back to Vegas. He told Wayne. Wayne went after Wendell. Three colored dope fiends got in the way. Wayne killed them. Wendell Durfee raped and murdered Wayne's wife, Lynette.  
 
It was his very own free fall. It started in Dallas and spun all the way up to Now.  
 
Wendell Durfee escaped. Wayne Senior and the PD worked to get Wayne a walk on the dope fiends. Mr. Hoover was amenable. Senior's old chum Dwight Holly was not. Dwight was working for the Federal Bureau of Narcotics then. The dope fiends were pushing heroin and were targeted for prosecution. Dwight squawked to the U.S. attorney. Wayne Junior fucked up his investigation. He wanted to see Wayne Junior indicted and tried. The PD fabricated some evidence and snowed the grand jury. Wayne got a walk on the killings. It left him hollow. He quit the PD and entered The Life.  
 
Soldier of fortune. Heroin runner. Assassin.  
 
Lynette was dead. He vowed to find Wendell Durfee and kill him. Lynette was his best friend and sweetheart and the wall to shut out his love for his father's second wife. Janice was older, she watched him grow up, she stayed with Senior for his money and clout. Janice returned Wayne's love. The longing went both ways. It stayed there and plain grew.  
 
Wayne fell in with Pete and his wife, Barb. Pete was tight with a mob lawyer named Ward Littell. Ward was ex-FBI and the point man for the JFK hit. He was working for Carlos Marcello and Howard Hughes and playing both ends back, front and sideways. Wayne had Pete and Ward as teachers. He learned The Life from them. He blew through their curriculum at a free-fall pace.  
 
Pete was hopped up on the Cuban exile cause. Vietnam was getting hot. Howard Hughes was nurturing crazy plans to buy up Las Vegas. Wayne Senior got in with Hughes' Mormon guard. Ward Littell developed a grudge against Senior. A rogue CIA man recruited Pete for a Saigon-to-Vegas dope funnel, profits to the Cuban cause, vouchsafed by Carlos Marcello. Pete needed a dope chemist and recruited Wayne. Ward's hatred of Wayne Senior grew. Ward fucked with Senior. He informed Wayne that his father sent him to Dallas.  
 
Wayne reeled and grabbed at air and barely stayed upright. Wayne fucked Janice in his father's house and made sure that Wayne Senior saw it.  
 
"The Life," a noun. A haven for Mormon burnouts, rogue chemists, coon killers.  
 
Wayne Senior divorced Janice. He beat her with a silver-tipped cane to offset the cost of the settlement. Janice limped from that day on and still played scratch golf. Ward Littell sold Howard Hughes Las Vegas at the mob's inflated prices and began a sporadic love affair with Janice. Wayne Senior increased his pull with Howard Hughes and sucked up to former veep Dick Nixon. Dwight Holly left the Bureau of Narcotics and went back on the FBI. Mr. Hoover directed Dwight to disrupt Martin Luther King and the civil rights movement. Dwight deployed Wayne Senior in anti-Klan mail-fraud ops, a sop to sob sisters at Justice.  
 
Wayne cooked heroin in Saigon and ran it through to Vegas. Wayne chased Wendell Durfee for four years. The country blew up with riots and a shitstorm of race hate. Dr. King trumped Mr. Hoover on all moral fronts and wore the old man down just by being. Mr. Hoover had tried everything. Mr. Hoover whined to Dwight that he had done all he could. Dwight understood the cue and recruited Wayne Senior. Wayne Senior wanted Wayne Junior to be in on it. Senior thought they needed a recruitment wedge. Dwight went out and found Wendell Durfee.  
 
Wayne got a pseudo-anonymous tip. He found Wendell Durfee on L.A. skid row and killed him in March. It was a put-up job. Dwight gathered forensic evidence and coerced him into the hit plan. Wayne worked with his father, Dwig...

Revue de presse

“Jaw-dropping . . . A remarkable literary achievement.”
—Associated Press
 
“Readers who love their noir blood-red will be giddy over Blood’s A Rover, the bang-up conclusion to James Ellroy’s Underworld USA trilogy . . . Ellroy’s prose is spare and riveting [and] his plot is hardball start to finish.”
—USA Today

“No living crime writer so unflinchingly chronicles the darkest aspects of American history . . . In Blood’s A Rover, Ellroy reveals his keen eye for the shapes that lurk within shadows—to the best effect of his career . . . It achieves a greater depth, emotional resonance and sense of closure than his earlier books. This trilogy is a work of ambition unmatched among contemporary crime novelists.”
 —The Economist (UK)

"A conspiracy theorist's nightmare."
—Time magazine

“So absorbing and satisfying that it’s exhausting . . . Every page has at least one passage that’s so snappy you want to reply it like a song.”
—Seattle Times

“Revelatory . . . Twenty years ago American crime fiction seemed to have a power and a potential mainstream fiction had lost . . . With Blood’s A Rover Ellroy has finally delivered on that potential . . . [A] masterpiece.”
— Independent (UK)
 
“Brilliant . . . There are no soft edges to this novel.”
—Minneapolis Star-Tribune
 
“Ellroy employs a huge cast and hyper-pulp prose to create a convincingly horrific universe run by the F.B.I., the Mob, and a host of other sinister organizations.”
—The New Yorker
  
“Blood’s A Rover concludes an epic fictional project that has been wild and brilliant, dazzling and funny . . . The plotting [is] fiendish and intricate.”
 —Los Angeles Times
 
“Drop-dead great . . . Ellroy does not disappoint here . . . He has built both a myth and a monument. It’ll blow your mind.”
—Austin American-Statesman
 
“[This] amounts to the hit-man theory of history . . . It’s an outrageous, exhilarating, unpretty sight, and it’s ingeniously plausible.”
—Boston Globe
 
“Ellroy’s bravest and most surprising novel yet.”
—Times Literary Supplement (UK)

“Blood’s A Rover is James Ellroy at his most devilish, hip, rambunctious and  thrilling. This is sizzling hyper noir, a stylish tour de force that will enrapture Ellroy fans and create new ones. Fasten your seatbelts before reading."  
 —Joseph Wambaugh

“Another cocktail of speculative pop-pulp fiction, conspiracy-theorist wet dreams and a beguiling alternative history. Fans will be pleased as rum punch.”
—Time Out New York
 
“Revisionist history that roars off the page, Blood’s A Rover is fevered pulp fiction spiked with real nightmares . . . The principal protagonists are spectacular, vivid creations that burst to life . . . History is refracted and reflected through Ellroy’s peerless paragraphs, lending a fresh urgency and a thrilling sense of rediscovery to events thoroughly analyzed. Blood’s A Rover commands your attention from the first page . . . American fiction writing at its finest—a dexterous, astounding achievement.”
—Fort Worth Star-Telegram 
 
“A crushing bravura performance . . . It’s impossible not to read Blood’s A Rover with a sense of awe . . . Stunning.”
–Publishers Weekly (starred)

“Ellroy calls this third leg of ‘The Underworld USA Trilogy’ an historical romance, but it’s also very much a gangster novel, a political novel, a tragic-comedy, a poignant love story–and remarkably entertaining no matter how you slice it . . . You won’t easily put it down.”
–Kirkus Reviews (starred)

Détails de l'édition

• Éditeur: Alfred a Knopf Inc
• Date d'édition: 2009
• Langue: anglais
• ISBN 10: 0679403930
• ISBN 13: 9780679403937
• Reliure: Relié
• Numéro d'édition: 1
• Nombre de pages: 640
• Coordonnées du fabricant: non disponible
• Personne responsable: Authorised Representative Service; ar.info@doceupoint.com; ; 77 Camden Street Lower; Dublin; Dublin; D02 XE80; Irlande