Destination, Wedding!

by Xavier Mayne

  “I may not have a medical degree, but I am the world’s authority on the well-being of my son,” Mrs. Hendricks announced. “Only when he is freed from the defective impulses that haunt him can he ever be physically strong again.” She drew herself up with an adamantine certainty. “And I will not listen to anyone tell me I don’t know what’s best for my son.”

  “Mrs. Hendricks,” Kerry said gently, “we are trying to help you help your son.”

  “You are doing nothing of the kind if you’re telling me that our last hope—our last hope in the entire world—doesn’t fit your politically correct view.”

  “Politically correct view? Who said anything about politically correct views?”

  “I know how you people are. You find out that someone is using your drug to help people recover from homosexuality, and you just have to shut it down. As if you know best for the entire world. Well, some people don’t think having a son with those… defects… is what’s best.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Kerry said, her voice rising. “The people treated by Dr. Rauthmann are in no way better off afterward. In fact, a number of them have committed—”

  She was interrupted by Schwegler standing and clearing his throat loudly. Brandt’s instincts kicked in and he turned to follow Schwegler’s sight line. He saw a somewhat harried man in a suit walking toward them. Schwegler extended his hand as the man approached.

  “Doctor Rauthmann, I believe you know the Hendrickses. This is Mr. Brandt, and this—”

  “We have met,” Rauthmann broke in to finish the introduction. He bowed courteously to Kerry, but his eyes flicked from side to side, as if his brain was working feverishly to work out what had brought together this particular configuration of people.

  Brandt noticed that every bit of color seemed to have left Kerry’s face in an instant.

  Schwegler sat, and gestured for Rauthmann to join the group, but Rauthmann stood imperiously erect. “Dr. Schwegler,” he said, his voice courtly, “I do hope you have not convened this group for the purpose of dissuading patients, both current”—he nodded toward the Hendrickses—“and prospective”—a nod to Kerry—“from seeking my care?”

  “Not at all, Dr. Rauthmann,” Schwegler replied, with commensurate dignity. “I simply seek more information, both for myself and for your patients. Surely you can have no objection to that.”

  “I do object to you asking me to meet you here, and then finding that you have assembled what appears to be a tribunal.”

  Without warning, Brandt erupted into a coughing fit, bolted to his feet and grabbed Kerry’s hand. He gestured frantically, pleading for her assistance. She jumped up and made a show of guiding him away from the group. They walked around a corner and out of sight before Brandt stopped his fake coughing.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “There’s gotta be a drinking fountain or something around here—”

  “I’m fine,” Brandt cut her off brusquely. “What the hell was that? Rauthmann referred to you as a ‘prospective patient’?”

  The fire returned to Kerry’s cheeks, and she looked down as if hoping to find the answer to Brandt’s question woven into the sumptuous rugs of the hotel lobby. “We kind of went off-script,” she said meekly.

  “Off-script? How far off?”

  “As we were walking over to the clinic, we decided that we’d be able to get better intelligence from him if we pretended to need his services.”

  Brandt blinked in disbelief. “You were supposed to approach him as a colleague, and try to get his agreement to stop using the drug. That’s it.”

  “We weren’t sure he would even talk to me if he knew who I worked for. And we wanted to be sure he didn’t lie or gloss over the true intent of the therapy. We had to be sure, Ethan.”

  “And so to keep him from lying to you, you lied to him?”

  “To be fair, we both did.”

  “Wait—let me guess. Sandler pretended to be a closet case looking for a pharmaceutical escape, didn’t he?”

  “Exactly right. See, you understand what we were doing.”

  “I understand it. I just don’t share your opinion that it was a good idea. Look, we know that Gabriel needed to lie to the Hendrickses—it was the only way to get close to them. But the rest of us were supposed to go in as ourselves and try to help.”

  “We just thought it would work better this way,” Kerry said, a little lamely.

  “And that’s why you failed to mention this change of strategy at lunch today, when you reported the info that you got from talking to Rauthmann?”

  Kerry took an exasperated breath. “We lied. We lied to that dick of a doctor so we could save Sandler’s friend. So what? What difference does it make?”

  “The difference it makes may be the difference between getting a conviction and not getting a conviction. Evidence gathered under false pretenses is tainted!”

  “Evidence? Conviction?” She stared at him, her expression puzzled. “You’re talking like this is a police investigation. That’s not what we’re doing. We’re just trying to keep Trevor from getting his brain fried by Dr. Jekyll out there.”

  “No, what we’re doing is trying not to fuck up the legal case your company has working against him, because if something we do gets in the way of that, then a lot more Trevors are going to get hurt. Did you think of that? Did you?”

  She fell silent, and chewed on the corner of her mouth as if trying to decide whether to come back swinging or let him win the point. “I get what you’re saying. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you at lunch what we’d done, but we thought it would just add pointless drama to the whole thing. But, honest to God, Ethan, all we wanted to do was save Trevor. He deserves to have someone on his side for once. And we thought we’d have the best shot at helping him if we went in with a story.”

  Ethan sighed. “But what we have now is a situation where Schwegler thinks you’re a reputable chemist and an expert on that stupid drug, while Rauthmann thinks you’re someone so unhinged that she’s ready to drug her gay boyfriend into being straight.”

  “Husband,” she said.

  “Husband? You two got married along the way? Nice.”

  “Sorry. It seemed to add the right note of pathos.”

  He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how to pull out of this, Kerry. We can’t go back out there. No one would ever believe you now.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Brandt.” It was Schwegler, with Rauthmann standing by his side. “I have some questions about your veracity as well that I’d very much like some answers to. And I’d appreciate the truth this time.”

  Brandt, backed onto a ledge and needing to decide whether to jump or fight, did what he always did. He fought. “I’m sure this looks unusual, Doctor, but I can explain. Why don’t we go back to the Hendrickses and we can all talk this over honestly and—”

  “The Hendrickses are gone,” Rauthmann said, with a slight smile. “They went to make sure their son gets a good rest before his procedure tomorrow. They didn’t seem particularly interested in what you have to say.”

  Brandt took a moment to consider the many and varied ways in which this little adventure had gone off the rails. He had lost the goodwill of Dr. Schwegler, Kerry’s hijinks had apparently steeled the resolve of Dr. Rauthmann to neuter more gay youths, and in a matter of seconds the Hendrickses would discover that their son had disappeared, embroiling them all in what probably looked like a kidnapping. At least he had the consolation that there was nothing left to go wrong.

  The appearance of four police officers rushing toward the elevator proved this an optimistic assessment.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thursday

  Just after midnight, Hôtel Genève

  SEVERAL HOURS later, Brandt and Kerry returned to the suite. They found Donnelly in the parlor, not watching the television. He switched it off and ran to Brandt as soon as the door opened. They embraced for a long moment.

  “Where are they?”
Brandt asked, still holding tight to Donnelly.

  “In the smaller bedroom.” He looked at Kerry apologetically. “We hoped you wouldn’t mind sleeping on the couch here. I had housekeeping make it up for you.”

  “Surrounded by reunited lovers on both sides? If I can make it through the night without jumping from the balcony, I’m sure I’ll be perfectly comfortable.” She winked at Donnelly to show she was teasing. Mostly.

  “How’s Trevor doing?” Brandt asked, back to business.

  “Much better now. Sandler really jarred him loose—all of a sudden, he’s happy and talking and… well, aside from the being held prisoner by his own parents for more than a decade, he seems just fine. If I hadn’t seen him myself earlier today, I would never believe that he’d been basically comatose before Sandler showed up.”

  “That’s terrific,” Brandt replied. “That’s really great news.”

  “How’d it go with Schwegler and the Hendrickses?”

  “That’s the bad news.”

  Donnelly froze. “Oh, shit.” He took a deep breath. “What’s the damage?”

  “It’s kind of a cluster. Can you bring Sandler and Trevor out here? We need to have everyone on this.”

  Donnelly nodded, then walked over and knocked on the door to the bedroom.

  “We’re busy” came Sandler’s joyful voice from inside.

  “We need you guys out here. Ethan and Kerry are back, and we have to talk about where we go from here.”

  “Give us a sec,” Sandler replied.

  Donnelly walked back to where Brandt stood looking out the window into the night, and put his arms around him from behind. “How bad is it?” he whispered.

  “It’s bad,” Brandt replied in a low murmur.

  “Good thing we’ve got the brains and brawn on our side,” Donnelly said, then kissed him on the neck.

  “I don’t think it’s going to be enough. Not this time.”

  Donnelly tightened his grip, and Brandt could almost feel his confidence flowing through his embracing arms. But in that same moment he felt himself keenly unworthy of Donnelly’s optimism.

  “We’ll find a way,” Donnelly said, his voice serene.

  Brandt took in those words like a breath of incense, and felt himself calmed despite the storm they were sailing into. He could only nod, and hope that Donnelly was right.

  “Ethan Brandt, I’d like you to meet Trevor Hendricks,” Sandler called as he wheeled Trevor out of the bedroom.

  Brandt turned, wearing the smile he used whenever he had little to smile about. It generally won people over. “I am thrilled to meet you, Trevor,” he said, extending his hand to take Trevor’s more delicate one in his.

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you—all of you—taking all this trouble to help me.” Trevor beamed at the entire group. “I’d forgotten what it feels like to be happy.”

  Sandler bent down and threw his arms around Trevor, and the two kissed.

  Donnelly cast a look at Brandt. It said all he needed to hear without a single word. They would have to find a way.

  “All right, I need to bring everyone up to speed on where we are,” Brandt announced. “Dr. Schwegler agreed to meet me in the lobby, and I was able to grab the Hendrickses as they were on their way to the elevator.”

  “Thanks for that, by the way,” Sandler said. “When the doors opened and they were standing there, I didn’t know whether to scream or pee. It was not my finest moment.”

  “You did a great job, both of you,” Brandt said. “Once Kerry returned from getting you into the getaway car, I introduced her to the Hendrickses and to Schwegler, and she started telling them about Rauthmann’s treatment. They were having none of it, as you might imagine, though I think she was starting to make some progress with them. Then Rauthmann himself showed up.”

  Sandler, Donnelly, and Trevor gasped in unison.

  “Yeah, so that happened. I faked a coughing fit and pulled Kerry aside, but while we were trying to figure out what to do the good doctors must have compared notes about the various identities of our Ms. Mercer here, and they came and found us strategizing behind a row of potted ficuses.”

  There were groans from the room.

  “But wait, friends, it gets worse,” Brandt continued. “I told them we’d like to explain the whole thing to them and the Hendrickses, but Rauthmann told us they’d already gone upstairs.”

  Sandler reached over the arm of the wheelchair and laced his fingers into Trevor’s.

  “It was about then that the lobby filled with”—he turned to Kerry—“what was your charming term for them?”

  “Members of the gendarmerie,” Kerry replied with a wince.

  “Right. A lovely way of saying that the lobby was awash in serious people in uniforms responding to reports of a kidnapping. Of which, by the way, they take a very dim view here.”

  “Please tell me this is where you and Kerry took advantage of the confusion and slipped out the service entrance,” Donnelly said, his voice not terribly hopeful. “Please?”

  Brandt scowled. “No, Officer Donnelly, this is where we sought out the head of the police contingent and let her know we had material information regarding the alleged kidnapping.”

  “Can we not call it that?” Sandler interjected. “How about liberation?” At Brandt’s glare he fell silent.

  “Any other suggestions for how we could have made an even greater mockery of a police investigation?” He looked around the room, expecting to see none, and he didn’t. “Thank you. We sat down with the chief inspector, and explained to her the circumstances under which Trevor came to be somewhere other than where his parents had left him. I focused on his being an adult fully capable of making his own decisions about his care, and I think I almost had her convinced to take a big step back and calm things down.”

  “Almost?” Donnelly asked.

  Brandt sighed. “It’s not an easy story to unspool in a hotel lobby crowded with police and shocked passersby. But I was getting there, I’m sure of it, when the Hendrickses showed up. Good God, the screaming was bone-rattling.”

  “Dad’s got some lungs on him,” Trevor muttered.

  “True story,” Brandt replied with a rueful shake of his head. “Anyway, they were clearly distraught, and I think we might still have gotten everything calmed down if your mother hadn’t started waving around the note she found in the hotel room and screaming about how you were incapable of making your own decisions and had clearly fallen into the clutches of nefarious manipulators with a homosexual agenda.”

  Trevor dropped his chin to his chest. “That’s a direct quotation, isn’t it?” he asked dismally.

  “The directest. Though she delivered it two octaves higher and about thirty decibels louder. She was… unhinged.”

  Trevor looked up at this. “Good.”

  Brandt look at him, uncomprehending.

  “I’m glad. She deserves to be unhinged for what she’s done. To me and to Sandler.”

  “I agree with you,” Brandt said, “in principle. The reality of it, though, is that she can cause a great deal of trouble for you. And what you wrote in the note didn’t really help things much.”

  Sandler jostled Trevor’s arm. “What did you write?”

  “May I?” Brandt asked. “After all, your mother repeated it so many times I think everyone within her considerable blast radius has it memorized.”

  Trevor nodded, grinning slyly.

  “It said, ‘I didn’t choose to be gay, but I chose Sandler. And he chose me.’”

  “Aww,” intoned Kerry, looking at them with a sappy expression.

  “That’s so sweet,” Sandler added, kissing Trevor’s hand.

  “Yes, but it was pretty much the last straw in terms of your mom’s tenuous grasp on sanity. When she started actually whacking people with her rolled-up power of attorney I knew we needed to get things back on a more productive footing.”

  “That’s when he dropped the bomb,” Kerry said, pride i
n her voice.

  “What?” Donnelly asked. “What did you do?”

  Brandt shrugged modestly. “I simply suggested that a power of attorney drafted in the United States is not likely to be compliant with the European Union’s Declaration of Human Rights, much less Switzerland’s even stronger protections.”

  “Nice move,” Donnelly said. “But how would they be able to determine that? Wouldn’t they need to have it reviewed by a judge or something?”

  “Right you are.” Brandt turned to Trevor and Sandler. “We have a court date the day after—” He stopped to look at his watch. “Actually, now that it’s after midnight, it’s tomorrow. Anyway, we’ll be expected to show up in court with Trevor and explain why he should be free of his parents’ conservatorship.”

  “And they’re going to let him stay with us until then?” Sandler asked, eyes wide.

  “Well, since they don’t know where to find him….” Brandt said, looking casually at the artful crown molding high on the wall.

  Donnelly threw himself at Brandt, and with a giddy “I fucking love you!” tackled him and knocked him backward over the arm of the sofa. They sprawled on the bed that had been pulled out for Kerry. Between kisses, he managed to say, “You didn’t tell them.” More kisses. “You didn’t tell them where he is!”

  When Brandt was finally able to extricate himself from Donnelly’s effusive affection, he straightened his shirt (Donnelly had tugged on it rather vigorously) and stood again. “With that undignified display concluded….”

  “Sorry, I just can’t believe you were willing to lie to them to keep the Hendrickses from finding out where Trevor is,” Donnelly interrupted.

  “I didn’t lie,” Brandt replied. “I just kept them from asking the question of where he is by pointing out that until the hearing he should be presumed to be in control of his own life.”

  “And just like that they were willing to set aside his parents’ power of attorney?”

  “Not exactly. That’s where Ms. Mercer stepped in to seal the deal.” He looked to Kerry to pick up the story.

  “All I did was move the conversation along toward the subject of antigay reparative therapy.”