Uprising - The Suspense Thriller Part 17

To the far left, screen one was showing the early moments of the Dallas strikea"jagged shots of feet running through an alley. Screen two featured Bradenton, Florida, and a wide shot of a small, two-story apartment building. On screen three, four members of Level 3 were hiding out in their black hoods behind a Tallaha.s.see liquor store, waiting. On Screen four, Oth.e.l.lo's personal favorite, a red-headed Kentucky cop was getting out of his truck and heading for the back of a barber shop. Each bashing was moments away from happening when the intercom shattered his concentration.

"Oth.e.l.lo, dahling." It was Doris, his secretary, who had explicit instructions not to disturb him.

"Go away."

"It's an A-lister. Mr. Kincaide."

More than ever he questioned the wisdom of putting Raider on the list of callers and visitors who had priority status. "On the phone?" he asked.

"In the flesh."

Don't I wish.

He paused the tapes. His nerves were still shot from the Hollywood 500 and he was in no mood for conversation. But this was the first time Raider had ever showed up unannounced and Oth.e.l.lo was intrigued.

"Show him to the screening room." He waited a few minutes, then unpaused all four tapes. Before long, the carnage began to mount. On the fourth screen, the one closest to the door, the Kentucky cop fired a shot at Freedom's bullet-proof vest and was about to get his skull crushed. They deserve it, Oth.e.l.lo told himself. All of them. On the second screen (Bradenton), a twenty-one year-old blond kid was lying face up on the ground of a parking garage, blood gushing from his face as he fell into unconsciousness while the camcorder hovered over him, recording his misery.

Raider stepped through the doors of the screening room just in time to see a close up of a bloodied face on the screen closest to the door.

"Oth.e.l.lo, what the...." He was rendered speechless. His eyes panned the other screens where heads, bones, backs, kneecapsa"you name ita"were being broken, shattered, crushed, all in night vision. Without words, they watcheda"Oth.e.l.lo knowing he was no longer alone and Raider only remotely aware that he was moving deeper and deeper into the darkened room. By the time the scenes began to repeat themselves, he was standing in the second row of seats, directly over Oth.e.l.lo. "So this is what you've been doing instead of spending time with me," he said, void of emotion. "Busting open skulls."

"Yeah, right. " Oth.e.l.lo turned his head ever-so-slightly, his eyes still glued to the screens. "Someone from ACTNOW got this from some anonymous source. Maybe from whoever's doing this."

Raider tried to laugh to show his disbelief but was too mesmerized by the bloodbath. "If you're going to lie, you can do better than that." He went for a teasing tone but wasn't sure if he achieved it.

"The folks that did this have submitted these tapes to the networks," Oth.e.l.lo said. "To warn all f.a.g-bashers, I suppose."

"They'll be caught." Raider thought of the head honchos at the bureau. And if not caught by him, they'd have his a.s.s.

"They're wearing hoods." Oth.e.l.lo shrugged. "Whoever they are."

"What is this 'whoever' business?"

"Like I know these people?"

"Come on, Oth.e.l.lo," he said edgily. "Quit playing games with me." He turned toward the back of the room, trying but failing to collect himself. This wasn't supposed to be this hard. Oth.e.l.lo was supposed to be head over heels in love by now, too smitten to be discreet. But had Raider's tone been too harsh? He turned back around, worn out from retrieving his Jeep and making it back up the hill to the Big House. "Stop with all this, w.i.l.l.ya?"

"Stop with all what?"

"Lying, G.o.dd.a.m.nit."

Oth.e.l.lo took his eyes off the screen and shot a glance toward Raider. Feeling too short sitting down, he chucked the remotes onto the next seat, rose up and slowly turned around, shoulders square, posture stiffened, eyes cold. "You seem to have a problem."

"You're shutting me out. You promised to show me the way in all this. Raider Kincaide, Rookie Activist?"

"Promises are sometimes impossible to keep." The wail of the Bradenton kid permeated the room. Oth.e.l.lo reached for the remote and killed the sound, then eyed Raider with a piercing glare. "What's all this to you anyway?"

The tension between them seemed impenetrable and something became clear to Raider in the spare second available: Oth.e.l.lo was on to him, somehow, some way, to some degree. Was it something Raider had said? The wrong look? Wrong gesture? Whatever the reason, the trust between them had eroded. The sour look in Oth.e.l.lo's eyes was unlike any Raider had seen from the pop star. It was Raider's move. Wrong one and his head could end up like the f.a.g bashers.

"What's it to me?" Raider turned to the screens, thought about it, then punched his fist in the air with the gusto of a fratboy calling for another keg. "I'm beginning to love this s.h.i.t."

"Say what?"

"This is so money. For the first time in my life, I'm starting to feel free about who I really am, deep down inside."

"So you like these bashings?"

"Are you kidding?" Feeling a new shot of adrenaline, he began pacing the aisle, speaking with urgent gestures. "I can't believe you a.s.sumed I didn't."

"You didn't say one way or another the other night. Over dinner."

"Well, you didn't ask?"

Oth.e.l.lo scoffed. "I didn't think I had to."

Raider took a deep breath and sat on the upright edge of a chair in his row. "I think the reason I didn't say anything is because I didn't want to face something in the past. When I was at Dartmouth, I was involved in a gay bashing."

"You, Mr. All-Ivy Leaguer, Mr. Six-foot-two Mountain of A Man?"

"Well, it wasn't at Dartmouth." Yeah, that's it, he thought, making it up as he went along. "I went to another school. In a nearby town. For the night. I heard about guys cruising each other at their library. One night, I got so h.o.r.n.ya"" no make that lonely, lonely is better "a"really more lonely than h.o.r.n.y. They didn't know Raider Kincaide from squat there. To make a long story short, a couple guys from their football teama"big linemen typesa"they beat the c.r.a.p outta me. I didn't want to fight because I thought they'd find out who I was. I was messed up pretty badly, told everybody back at Dartmouth some low-lifes jumped me."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"But that's why I love this s.h.i.t." Raider rose up. "The anger from back then is coming out just like I am." He gestured toward the big screens. "I guess I didn't talk about these reverse bashings because it's hard to think about that night."

"Maybe the group that did this can find the punks who jumped you."

"Fat chance. But will you quit talking about some group as if you don't know them? This is what I mean about shutting me out." He remained in his aisle but moved toward Oth.e.l.lo. "I know in my heart this is all you. Only you have the guts and the vision, not to mention the brilliance."

Oth.e.l.lo turned from him and took a few steps.

"You know, you did promise to let me in on more of all this if I came to Atlantic City," Raider added.

He had to go and bring up Atlantic City, Oth.e.l.lo thought with disgust. He turned back to Raider. "I'll say the same thing to you that you said to me in Simi Valley, right after we escaped and when you were all confused about Joe's ident.i.ty."

"And that is?" Raider asked.

"You could be some kind of cop, or traitor or FBI type, trying to send me and the rest of ACTNOW up the river. Why should ACTNOW trust you? Why should I?"

Check, Raider thought, but far from checkmate.

Raider tried to laugh it off. "Would a guy from the FBI be dating you right now?"

"Dating?" Oth.e.l.lo repeated incredulously. "Is that what this is? Is that why you act like a sixteen-year-old virgin on his first date every time you're around me?"

"I told you I'm not that experienced."

"You act like you want to stay that way." Oth.e.l.lo began pacing, too hurt and frustrated to look Raider in the eye. "How am I supposed to think anything's going on between us when we don'ta"can'ta"and you want to get to know my world? Don't think for a second I'm gonna let you in till I'm sure this is going somewhere. This isn't just a game, Raider. You'd have to be brain-dead not to realize the kinds of chances I'm taking, even with what little you know about Joe. And you come in here mad I don't tell you more?" He ended up near the fourth screen and let out a solitary breath ripe with cynicism.

In the middle of the second row, Raider fell silent, the room's only noise coming from the tedious hum of the air-conditioner, the only light from the screens. Raider wiped his brow, which had become sticky with a light coating of sweat, and staying in his aisle, approached Oth.e.l.lo's back. Then, after steadying his arm, he placed a hand on Oth.e.l.lo's shoulder.

"I appreciate your patience with me," he said softly, hoping Oth.e.l.lo would fill in the rest because he sure as h.e.l.l didn't know what else a guy was supposed to say to another guy. But Oth.e.l.lo held his ground and offered nothing. "I know I haven't been the easiest guy to date. But that is what I consider us doing and it means a lot to me when you help me out of the closet, even if it means dragging me out inch-by-inch. It feels so great when you tell me about the injustices and include me in all your dreams. I mean, you've got guts and I admire that. Wish I had half." He squeezed Oth.e.l.lo's shoulder, keeping his surprise to himself as Oth.e.l.lo reached up and placed his own hand on top.

Not letting go of Raider's hand, Oth.e.l.lo turned around, wondering to himself: how is it possible to feel so much for someone you know so little about? No easy answer came, but truth was, he still had an avalanche of feelings for Raider, some of them good, some of them downright frightful. He stared into his Nantucket man's eyes, which were much softer than before, and when Raider saw a pleasant expression on Oth.e.l.lo's face, they shared a modest smile.

"Six months ago..." Oth.e.l.lo moved over to Raider's aisle and grabbed his other hand so he could hold both of them. "...six months ago, I would have never dreamed that you or ACTNOW would be a part of my life. But here you are, all of you and...." he trailed off, swinging their arms sideways, desperately hoping Raider would lean over and plant a big wet one on his lips. But Raider simply returned a half smile. "You know I could really use a hug right now," Oth.e.l.lo said, not knowing how to ask for a kiss.

Raider arched his head upward as if he expected as much. "Come here," he said commandingly, pulling Oth.e.l.lo into him. And just like that, Oth.e.l.lo found himself lost in Raider's chest, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, everything about the world safe and right, even if only for a moment.

For Raider, it was a matter of muting the sirens going off in his brain. A small sacrifice, he reasoned, staring at the four ma.s.sive screens displaying frightening images his government had ordered him to stop.

"After the day I had," said Oth.e.l.lo, "this is heaven."

"Tell me all about it," Raider said, oozing sympathy.

"Somebody was after me."

"After you?" Raider said, using shock as an excuse to untangle himself.

"Not after me after me, as it turns out," Oth.e.l.lo explained, walking directly in front of the big screens, reliving the horror. The version he gave Raider began on the streets of Hollywood, just after Oth.e.l.lo had realized he was being followed, and ended with Oth.e.l.lo speeding off from the Beverly Hills alley when the sirens closed in. "Turns out, it was just one of the guys from ACTNOW," he said, summing it all up. "Gus. Said he spotted me near Franklin and Vine and chased me halfway to the ocean just to say hi, almost making me c.r.a.p in my old man dungarees in the process. I guess the third car just turned down the alley at the wrong time and got stuck."

"Gus, Gus," Raider said absently. "Oh, yeah, Gus. What's his last name?"

"Don't know."

"Where were you coming from?"

Oth.e.l.lo barely heard him, or at least pretended as much. "Just out," he said absently, shifting restlessly. "If only the Fund were enough," he said to himself.

"The Triangle Fund?" Raider asked. That got Oth.e.l.lo's attention; he turned back to Raider.

"You've heard of it?"

"And you," Raider suddenly realized, "you're the mastermind behind it."

Oth.e.l.lo grinned. "Guilty as charged."

The revelation caught Raider by surprise, as if he hadn't considered the possibility that Oth.e.l.lo was also out there doing some good, if you were a gay person at least. So his heart wasn't all stone. Of course, Raider already knew that; he just didn't dwell on it. "There's no end to your talent and vision is there?" he said.

"Guilty on count two."

Raider thought of Gus and his lie about where he first saw Joe. The Honda Civic was registered to a man named Crane Malloy, not Gus, but that was all the LA bureau could tell him until they had time for a full background check.

"Oth.e.l.lo," Raider heard himself say, "maybe you should have bodyguards, you know, to avoid people like this Gus guy tracking you down."

"In the real world, I often do, but when I'm Joe...." he fell silent, then came up with another brilliant idea. "Perhaps a big, strong, ex-Ivy League lacrosse hero should be my bodyguard," he said, strands of Whitney wailing filling his head.

"I've got plans of my own." Raider leaned on the seat in front of him with both arms. "To be one of thea"what do they call it on CNC?a"the counter-bashers."

The idea caught Oth.e.l.lo by surprise. He stood between the big screens and Raider, contemplating it, intrigued by it. Another step up for the rookie activist? Another test of Raider's loyalty and intentions? Another risk?

But his thought process was interrupted by Sweeney, who was at the door with a cordless phone.

"O, call from J.H. on his plane, says it's urgent."

Reluctantly, Oth.e.l.lo excused himself, guaranteeing a quick return. While he was gone, Raider used the remotes to kill the violence on the televisions, having had enough already. Hold on, America, he said to himself: your streets will be safe again real soon.

Seconds later, Oth.e.l.lo burst back into the room alone. "The remote," he ordered Raider, who threw him the one he was still holding. Without breaking stride, Oth.e.l.lo caught it, aimed it at the first screen and lodged himself in front of it.

CNC came on, playing the last of the Bradenton footage. The blond kid was writhing on the ground, drowning in his own blood. A man's voice-over accompanied the shot: "This is a prime example of their anti-America, anti-family, anti-justice agenda." It was Jimmy Herman's thick Southern drawl. The video cut to him on camera, finishing his thought from a plush leather armchair: "The people on these tapes are just a step away from being the next Jeffrey Dahmers of this country."

"The people on these tapes are just a step away from beating the living s.h.i.t out of you!" Oth.e.l.lo yelled.

"Calm down, O," said Raider. "Maybe we should take a breaka""

"No, I wanna put another bullet through the TV!" He walked away, then quickly back swung around. "Why do you think it's so hard for you to come out? They hate us. They want to see us eliminated. That's war, and in war there's got to be casualties and my pathetic, lonely life is not going to be the only one."

Oth.e.l.lo stopped himself, fearing he'd said too much. He stepped back from Raider, then turned away, the sound of a female reporter filling the void. "I need some fresh air," he decided, then threw open the double doors that led to the terrace overlooking the basin and fled.

Raider remained indoors, not sure if he was to follow or leave the Big House altogether. He turned to the television, which now featured another shot of Senator Herman, Senator Jimmy Herman, brought up at the Temple meeting earlier in the day and at least twice before, the night of Simi Valley and on the yacht off Atlantic City.

The other week I got so mad at him I a.s.sa.s.sinated him on my big screen TV. Not a bad idea wouldn't you say?

So that was it.

A chilling jolt traveled through his entire body. But this time he kept his cool. Like a good agent. For a few seconds, he even allowed himself to imagine the accolades awaiting him from Dockweiller and the bureau, not to mention Capitol Hill, the White House, Hollywood, the mediaa"h.e.l.l, the entire secret agent universe. He then made a calm, purposeful journey through the double doors onto the terrace.

The sun was setting and Oth.e.l.lo was sitting on one of the backless stone benches that fronted the hedges overlooking the city lights, his arms folded together as if he were chilly, his body rocking back and forth ever-so-slightly.

Soundlessly, Raider approached, then placed his hands on Oth.e.l.lo's shoulders and ma.s.saged them, firmly but gently. Just a little touching, Raider told himself. The boys at the bureau never have to know. Oth.e.l.lo seemed to be responding, too, almost purring like a cat and moving cooperatively with Raider's hands as Raider called up his best sensitive yet deep voice: "Time to forget all about devils disguised as senators for now."

"That won't be hard to do if you keep this up," moaned Oth.e.l.lo.

Raider rubbed him for what seemed like an hour to him, but in reality was probably more like ten minutes. Then, deciding enough was enough, he unhanded Oth.e.l.lo's shoulders and straddled the bench.

"You still haven't told me what you think of my becoming a counter-basher?"

"What do you want me to say?" Oth.e.l.lo asked, rubbing his own shoulders now.

"Well, if you're not involved, do you think you can introduce me to somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who's involved?"

"You really wanna do it?"

"So bad I can taste it."

"Then sleep with me."

Every muscle in Raider's face hit the ground as he searched for a way out.