Though I found no proof, the consensus among Fine’s associates was that he’d continued working in espionage operations through the sixties. His only child, Shayla, told me that his public-relations gig was a cover—and, yes, she said, Tacot had reported to her father. What kind of work were they doing? She never knew, except that it was classified. Whenever I saw Tacot, I returned to the subject of Fine. “Don’t mention that name anywhere!” he barked, seeming genuinely disturbed. When I asked why not, he said, “None of your fucking business! You’re fucking with the wrong people!” Or was I
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