But here’s what we do know from Marchetti’s version of the story. Only feet away from the safety of the curb, Acoustic Kitty was run over by a taxi. No promotion. No raise. No boat. No Harley. Just the indignity of having to scrape the still-sparking Acoustic Kitty off the pavement, before the Soviets—or worse, the Washington Post—find out what the CIA was up to.
