The Doomsday Conspiracy

chapter Thirty-Three

Day Thirteen

Washington, DC

The Senate of the United States was in plenary session. The junior senator from Utah had the floor.

"... and what is happening to our ecology is a national disgrace. It is time that this great body realized that it is its sworn duty to preserve the precious heritage that our forefathers entrusted to us. It is not only our sworn duty but our privilege to protect the land, the air and the seas against those vested interests that are selfishly destroying it. And are we doing this? Are we in all conscience doing our best? Or are we allowing the voice of Mammon to influence us ...?"

Kevin Parker, seated in the visitors' gallery, glanced at his watch for the third time in the past five minutes. He wondered how much longer the speech was going to last. He was sitting through this only because he was having lunch with the senator, and he needed a favour from him, Kevin Parker enjoyed walking through the corridors of power, hobnobbing with congressmen and senators, dispensing largesse in return for political favours.

He had grown up poor in Eugene, Oregon. His father was an alcoholic who had owned a small lumber yard. An inept businessman, he had turned what should have been a thriving business into a disastrous failure. The young boy had to work from the age of fourteen, and because his mother had run away with another man years earlier, he had no home life at all. He could easily have become a drifter and ended up like his father, but his saving grace was that he was extraordinarily handsome and personable. He had wavy blond hair and fine aristocratic features that he must have inherited from some long-forgotten ancestor. A few affluent townspeople took pity on the boy, giving him jobs, encouragement, and going out of their way to assist him. The wealthiest man in town, Jeb Goodspell, was particularly eager to help Kevin, and gave him a part-time job with one of his companies. A bachelor, Goodspell often invited young Parker to join him for dinner at his home.

"You can be somebody in this life," Goodspell told him, "but you can't make it without friends."

"I know that, sir. And I certainly appreciate your friendship. Working for you is a real life saver."

"I could do a lot more for you," Goodspell said. They were seated on the couch in the living room, after dinner. He put his arm around the young boy. "A lot more." He squeezed the boy's shoulder. "You have a good body, do you know that?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you ever get lonely?"

He was lonely all the time. "Yes, sir."

"Well, you don't have to be lonely anymore." He stroked the boy's arm. "I get lonely, too, you know. You need someone to hold you close and comfort you."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you ever had any girls?"

"Well, I went with Sue Ellen for a while."

"Did you sleep with her?"

The boy blushed. "No, sir."

"How old are you, Kevin?"

"Sixteen, sir."

"It's a great age. It's an age when you should be beginning to start a career." He studied the boy a moment. "I'll bet you'd be darn good in politics."

"Politics? I don't know anything about that, sir."

"That's why you're going to school, to learn things. And I'm going to help you."

"Thank you."

"There are plenty of ways of thanking people," Goodspell said. He rubbed his hand along the boy's thigh. "Many ways." He looked into Parker's eyes. "You know what I mean?"

"Yes, Jeb."

That was the beginning.

When Kevin Parker was graduated from Churchill High School, Goodspell sent him to the University of Oregon. The boy studied political science, and Goodspell saw to it that his protege met everybody. They were all impressed with the attractive young man. With his connections, Parker found that he was able to do favours for important people, and to bring people together. Becoming a lobbyist in Washington was a natural step, and Parker was good at the job.

Goodspell had died two years earlier, but Parker had by then acquired a talent and a taste for what his mentor had taught him. He liked to pick up young boys and take them to out-of-the-way hotels where he would not be recognized.

The senator from Utah was finally finishing. "... and I say to you now that we must pass this bill if we want to save what is left of our ecology. At this time, I would like to ask for a roll call vote."

Thank God, the endless session was almost over. Kevin Parker thought about the evening that lay ahead of him, and he began to get an erection. The night before, he had met a young man at Danny's "P" Street Station, a well-known gay bar. Unfortunately, the young man had been with a companion. But they had eyed each other during the evening, and before he left, Parker had written a note and slipped it into the young man's hand. It said simply, "Tomorrow night." The young man had smiled and nodded.

Kevin Parker was hurriedly getting dressed to go out. He wanted to be at the bar when the boy arrived. The young man was much too attractive, and Parker did not want him picked up by someone else. The front doorbell rang. Damn. Parker opened the door.

A stranger stood there. "Kevin Parker?"

"Yes ..."

"My name is Bellamy. I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

Parker said, impatiently, "You'll have to make an appointment with my secretary. I don't discuss business outside of office hours."

"This isn't exactly business, Mr Parker. It concerns your trip to Switzerland a couple of weeks ago."

"My trip to Switzerland? What about it?"

"My agency is interested in some of the people you might have met over there." Robert flashed his false CIA identification.

Kevin Parker studied the man more carefully. What could the CIA want with him? They were so goddamn nosey. Have I covered my ass?

There was no point in antagonizing the man. He smiled. "Come in. I'm late for an appointment, but you said this won't take more than a minute?"

"No, sir. I believe you took a bus tour out of Zurich?"

So that's what this is all about. That flying saucer business. It had been the goddamnedest thing he had ever seen. "You want to know about the UFO, don't you? Well, I want to tell you, it was a weird experience."

"It must have been, but, frankly, we at the Agency don't believe in flying saucers. I'm here to find out what you can tell me about your fellow passengers on the bus."

Parker was taken aback. "Oh. Well, I'm afraid I can't help you there. They were all strangers."

"I understand that, Mr Parker," Robert said patiently, "but you must remember something about them."

Parker shrugged. "Well, a few things ... I remember exchanging a few words with an Englishman who took our pictures."

Leslie Mothershed. "Who else?"

"Oh, yes. I talked a little to a Russian girl. She seemed very pleasant. I think she said she was a librarian somewhere."

Olga Romanchanko. "That's excellent. Can you think of anyone else, Mr Parker?"

"No, I guess that's about ... oh, there were two other men. One was an American, a Texan."

Dan Wayne. "And the other one?"

"He was a Hungarian. He owned a carnival or circus or something like that in Hungary." He remembered. "It was a carnival."

"Are you sure about that, Mr Parker?"

"Oh, yes. He was telling me some stories about the carnival business. He was certainly excited seeing that UFO. I think if he could have, he would have put it in his carnival as a sideshow. I must admit, it was a pretty awesome sight. I would have reported it, but I can't afford to get mixed up with all the weirdos who claim they saw flying saucers."

"Did he happen to mention his name?"

"Yes, but it was one of these unpronounceable foreign names. I'm afraid I don't remember it."

"Do you remember anything else about him?"

"Only that he was in a hurry to get back to his carnival." He glanced at his watch. "Is there anything else I can do for you? I'm running a little late."

"No, thank you, Mr Parker. You've been very helpful."

"My pleasure." He flashed Robert a beautiful smile. "You must drop by my office and see me sometime. We'll have a nice chat."

"I'll do that."

So it's nearly over, Robert thought. They can take my job and shove it. It's time to pick up the pieces of my life and start over.

Robert placed a call to General Hilliard. "I've just about wrapped it up, General. I found Kevin Parker. He's a lobbyist in Washington, DC. I'm on my way to check out the last passenger."

"I'm very pleased," General Hilliard said. "You've done an excellent job, Commander. Get back to me as quickly as you can."

"Yes, sir."

FLASH MESSAGE

TOP SECRET ULTRA

NSA TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR CIA

EYES ONLY

COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES

SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY

9. KEVIN PARKER ?C WASHINGTON, DC

END OF MESSAGE

When Kevin Parker arrived at Danny's "P" Street Station, he found it even more crowded than it had been the evening before. The older men were dressed in conservative suits, while most of the younger men were in Levis, blazers and boots. There were a few who looked out of place, in black leather outfits, and Parker thought that this element was disgusting. Rough trade was dangerous, and he had never gone in for that sort of bizarre behaviour. Discretion, that had always been his motto. Discretion. The handsome young boy was not there yet, but Parker had not expected him to be. He would make his entrance later, beautiful and fresh, when the others in the bar would be tired and sweaty. Kevin Parker walked up to the bar, ordered a drink and looked around. Television sets on the walls were playing MTV stations. Danny's was an S and M ?C stand and model ?C bar. The younger men would assume poses that made them appear as attractive as possible, while the older men ?C the buyers ?C would look them over and make their selections. The S and M bars were the classiest. There were never any fights in them, for most of the customers had capped teeth, and they could not afford to chance having them knocked out.

Kevin Parker noticed that many of the patrons had already selected their partners. He listened to the familiar conversations going on around him. It fascinated him that the conversations were always the same, whether they took place in leather bars, dance bars, video bars or underground clubs that changed their locations every week. There was an indigenous argot.

"That queen is nobody. She thinks she's Miss Thing ..."

"He went off on me for no reason. He gets so terribly upset. Talk about sensitive ..."

"Are you a top or a bottom?"

"A top. I have to give the orders, girl." Snapping his fingers.

"Good. I like taking them ..."

"He read me for filth ... Just stood there criticizing me ... my weight, my complexion, my attitude. I said 'Mary, it's over between us'. But it hurt. That's why I'm here tonight ... trying to forget him. Could I have another drink ...?"

At one a.m., the young boy walked in. He looked around, saw Parker and walked over to him. The boy was even more beautiful than Parker had remembered.

"Good evening."

"Good evening. Sorry I'm late."

"That's all right. I didn't mind waiting."

The young man took out a cigarette and waited while the older man lit it for him.

"I've been thinking about you," Parker said.

"Have you?"

The boy's eyelashes were incredible.

"Yes. Can I buy you a drink?"

"If it will make you happy."

Parker smiled. "Are you interested in making me happy?"

The boy looked him in the eyes and said softly, "I think so."

"I saw the man you were here with last night. He's wrong for you."

"And you're right for me?"

"I could be. Why don't we find out? Would you like to go for a little walk?"

"Sounds good."

Parker felt a tingle of excitement. "I know a cosy place where we can be alone."

"Fine. I'll skip the drink."

As they started toward the front door, it suddenly opened and two large young men entered the bar. They stepped in front of the boy, blocking his way. "There you are, you sonofabitch. Where's the money you owe me?"

The young man looked up at him, bewildered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never seen you be ..."

"Don't give me that shit." The man grabbed him by the shoulder and started marching him out to the street.

Parker stood there, furious. He was tempted to interfere, but he could not afford to get involved in anything that might turn into a scandal. He stayed where he was, watching the boy disappear into the night.

The second man smiled at Kevin Parker sympathetically.

"You should choose your company more carefully. He's bad news."

Parker took a closer look at the speaker. He was blond and attractive, with almost perfect features. Parker had a feeling that the evening might not be a total loss, after all. "You could be right," he said.

"We never know what fate has in store for us, do we?" He was looking into Parker's eyes.

"No, we don't. My name's Tom. What's your name?"

"Paul."

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink, Paul?"

"Thank you."

"Do you have any special plans for tonight?"

"That's up to you."

"How would you like to spend the night with me?"

"That sounds like fun."

"How much money are we talking about?"

"I like you. For you, two hundred."

"That seems reasonable."

"It is. You won't be sorry."

Thirty minutes later Paul was leading Kevin Parker into an old apartment building on Jefferson Street. They walked upstairs to the third floor, and entered a small room. Parker looked around. "It's not much, is it? A hotel would have been nicer."

Paul grinned. "It's more private here. Besides, all we need is the bed."

"You're right. Why don't you get undressed? I want to see what I'm buying."

"Sure." Paul started stripping. He had a great body.

Parker watched him and he felt the old familiar urge beginning to build.

"Now, you get undressed," Paul whispered. "Hurry, I want you."

"I want you, too, Mary." Parker began to take off his clothes.

"What do you like?" Paul asked. "Lips or hips?"

"Let's make it a cocktail. Excuse the pun. We've got all night."

"Sure. I'm going into the bathroom," Paul said. "I'll be right back."

Parker lay on the bed naked, anticipating the exquisite pleasures that were about to happen. He heard his companion come out of the bathroom and approach the bed.

He held out his arms. "Come to me, Paul," he said.

"I'm coming."

And Parker felt a burst of agony as a knife slashed into his chest. His eyes flew open. He looked up, gasping. "My God, what ...?"

Paul was getting dressed. "Don't worry about the money," he said. "It's on the house."

Robert Bellamy missed the late news bulletin because he was on a plane to Hungary to find a man who owned a carnival.