ON FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 19, Malcolm met with Life magazine photographer Gordon Parks. The photographer asked Malcolm if he really believed that his life was in danger. “It’s as true as we are standing here,” he answered. “They’ve tried it twice in the last two weeks.” Perhaps, Parks suggested, the police would protect him. “Brother,” Malcolm chuckled, “nobody can protect you from a Muslim but a Muslim—or someone trained in Muslim tactics. I know. I invented many of those tactics.” Did Malcolm have any protection? He laughed again. “Oh, there are hunters and there are those who hunt the hunters. But the odds are certainly with those who are most skilled at the game.”36
That same afternoon, John Ali checked into the Americana Hotel in Midtown Manhattan. In recent weeks, the official from Chicago had demonstrated an uncanny ability for being in the same city as Malcolm. The following evening in Harlem, Talmadge X and his accomplices attended a dance at the Audubon Ballroom, inspecting the windows and exits one last time. According to one witness, later that night, Talmadge met with Ali, finalizing their plans. Everything was set. They were ready to kill for the Messenger.37
Two blocks away from the Americana, Malcolm checked into a room on the twelfth floor of the Hilton Hotel at Rockefeller Center. Soon, a group of black men began asking the bellmen about Malcolm, probing for his room number. Someone notified the head of security, a former policeman who knew that Malcolm had received numerous death threats. After escorting the men out of the hotel, the security chief added extra protection on the twelfth floor. The next morning, February 21, at eight a.m., Malcolm’s phone rang. An unfamiliar voice—a voice that sounded like it belonged to a white man—said, “Wake up, brother.”38
Before he could even think of a response the caller hung up. Hardly a moment passed when he was not reminded that someone wanted him dead. And yet, despite the constant danger, he called Betty about an hour later, inviting her and the children to his afternoon rally at the Audubon Ballroom. Initially, he had told her that it was unsafe for her to attend his public meetings. For some reason, this time he changed his mind.39
That morning, Talmadge X and the brothers from New Jersey left Paterson in a blue Cadillac. Driving across the George Washington Bridge, they reviewed their assignments. After parking a few blocks away from the Audubon, the men scouted the building’s perimeter. They confidently strode past Malcolm’s security, concealing their weapons under long overcoats. They knew that no one would frisk them since Malcolm had called off body searches at previous meetings. What they could not have known was that Malcolm had also directed his security to arrive unarmed, though at least one man disobeyed him: his bodyguard, Reuben Francis.40
The New Jersey group drifted into the second-floor ballroom unmolested. Arriving earlier than most guests, the five men made sure that they found seats near the stage. With a .45 tucked into his pants, Talmadge sat in the front row next to Leon, who carried a Luger beneath his coat. Behind them sat William, hiding a shotgun, and Ben, the Newark secretary. Wilbur, the getaway driver, sat somewhere in the middle of the hall’s four hundred folding chairs.41
At one o’clock, around the same time the armed men headed for the Audubon, Malcolm drove his blue Oldsmobile uptown to Harlem, parking it at the southeast corner of Broadway and West 146th Street, twenty blocks away from the ballroom. He walked alone for a few blocks, perhaps, an aide suggested later, so that if his assassins tried to kill him no one else would be harmed. Standing at a corner near a movie theater, he waited for a bus when a white Cadillac with New Jersey plates slowly pulled up beside him. Malcolm did not recognize the driver waving at him. Cautiously, he peered into the backseat and noticed one of his security guards, Charles X. Grinning with relief, Malcolm entered the backseat next to Charles, who then introduced him to his friends sitting up front.42
Around two o’clock, Malcolm arrived at the Audubon. As he approached the entrance, he passed a single police officer, patrolman Thomas Hoy. Typically, four or five officers guarded the entrance, but someone from Malcolm’s camp, supposedly acting on the minister’s authority, asked the duty officer to reduce the police presence. Two uniformed officers took positions inside the Rose Ballroom, adjacent to the main hall. Curiously, the police had discreetly assigned another twenty officers across the street at the Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center. When Malcolm’s aide, Charles Kenyatta, arrived at the Audubon, he could not understand why people were not being searched. Reuben Francis insisted that he was just following Malcolm’s orders. “That’s bullshit!” Charles exclaimed. “You know he don’t know what he sayin’ or doin’. Y’all know better.”43