“Sir, you should see my apartment What my wardrobe possesses, it lacks.”

Hoover chuckled. “Be that as it may, I doubt if I’ve seen you in the same suit twice. I’m sure the women you’re so fond of appreciate your sartorial flair.”

“Sir, I hope so.”

“You endure my amenities with considerable flair, Mr. Boyd. Most men squirm. You express both your inimitable personal panache and a concurrent respect for me that is quite alluring. Do you know what this means?”

“No, Sir. I don’t.”

“It means that I like you and am prone to forgive indiscretions that I would crucify other agents for. You’re a dangerous and ruthless man, but you possess a certain beguiling charm. This balance of attributes outweighs your profligate tendencies and allows me to be fond of you.”

DON’T SAY “WHAT INDISCRETIONS?”-HE’LL TELL YOU AND MAIM YOU.

“Sir, I greatly appreciate your respect, and I reciprocate it fully.”

“You didn’t include ‘fondness’ in your reciprocity, but I won’t press the point. Now, business. I have an opportunity for you to earn two regular paychecks, which should delight you no end.”

Hoover leaned back coax-me style. Kemper said, “Sir?”

The limo accelerated. Hoover flexed his hands and straightened his necktie. “The Kennedy brothers’ recent actions have distressed me. Bobby seems to be using the McClellan Committee’s labor racketeering mandate as a means to upstage the Bureau and advance his brother’s presidential aspirations. This displeases me. I’ve been running the Bureau since before Bobby was born. Jack Kennedy is a desiccated liberal playboy with the moral convictions of a crotch-sniffing hound dog. He’s playing crimefighter on the McClellan Committee, and the very existence of the committee is an implicit slap in the Bureau’s face. Old Joe Kennedy is determined to buy his son the White House, and I want to possess information to help mitigate the boy’s more degenerately egalitarian policies, should he succeed.”