The Rainbow Conspiracy

by Stuart Hopps

  Clive suggested that they leave Europe out of the discussion for the moment, since as far as he knew, gay political power had in no way become an obvious threat in the House of Commons. But he did point out that in America, the power of the pink dollar and the importance of the gay vote were, as far as he knew, highly significant when it came to electing councillors and senators. Who knew how vital it might be for funding a presidential campaign? He knew that in certain large cities, like San Francisco, New York and Los Angeles, the gay community represented a substantial voting bloc when it came to elections, and that in those cities up to 40 per cent of the electorate could be gay.

  ‘You’ve certainly done your homework.’

  Clive pushed on: ‘So you would agree that when it comes to election time, the gay vote is an important one to win over. Politicians must be aware of the need to promote issues that are of concern amongst their gay constituents and, in return, the power and generosity of the gay electorate can surely make or break a candidate.’

  ‘Clive, all that is absolutely true. And just like the black vote, the gay vote has certainly become an important factor in winning seats on the council in quite a few towns, as well as gaining ground in congressional elections in many of our states.’

  ‘In some towns, many of the elected officials are openly gay. I know for a fact that in West Hollywood, where at least fifty per cent of the electorate is gay, they have been able to elect a majority of gay members onto the city council.’

  ‘Yes, I believe you’re right.’

  ‘Allen, don’t you think that such a strong vote could be a severe handicap for right-wing politicians?’

  ‘Not all gays vote Democrat, you know.’

  Clive smiled and confessed that he was aware of that, but that he’d been led to believe that the majority did. He’d also been told that along with gay voting power also goes gay spending power and, with bathhouses, bars and restaurants closing down, the value of the pink dollar was diminishing. Clive maintained that because the disease was eliminating so many gay men, it was, at the same time, reducing gay wealth and influence, and consequently undermining the strength of the gay vote. The gay community in the States had come so near to achieving respect, acceptance and power by the end of the seventies, but it was now slowly being severely undermined and eroded in one way or another. Then, to be even more provocative, Clive added that he’d even heard that some right-wing religious groups were also getting involved.

  ‘I come from a Jewish background, so I understand what you’ re saying. But do you really believe that the American government is behind all this?’

  Then without fully realising the consequences of what he was about to say, Clive admitted that he believed Dennis’s story.

  ‘Clive, I spent a lot of time with Dennis. I know how much he suffered, and I had to watch my patient die. I sat with him and listened to the delirious ravings of a sick man. At times he talked wildly, at other times he was totally lucid. It is true that he believed that there was a CIA chemical warfare division in Arizona that had managed to isolate an extremely rare swine-fever virus, which had existed in Africa and which was considered, at the time, to be spread by monkeys to humans. He thought that this reinvented virus was being manufactured and used to cause the breakdown of the immune system, which has been responsible for this AIDS epidemic. Now that’s what Dennis was on about, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, yes … in a nutshell!’

  ‘And he had absolutely no proof.’

  ‘But his senator friend did,’ countered Clive.

  Then in a very nonchalant manner Allen changed tack: ‘How did you find out about all this? I know it couldn’t have been from Michael, because Dennis told me that he’d agreed to keep the whole thing from him, and I certainly believe that! So did Den write to you and tell you himself?’

  Now it was Allen’s turn to make Clive feel uncomfortable, since he had let Dr Levitt know how much he had learnt. Clive realised that he’d been hoist by his own petard and had placed himself in a certain amount of potential danger. Would he be the next to get bumped off? he wondered.

  ‘No. As a matter of fact, we weren’t in communication for several years.’

  ‘So how come you know so much about Dennis’s theory?’

  ‘It was Steve: Steve Leggard who told me.’

  ‘Oh, him. I might have guessed as much. You surely don’t believe what that old woman has to say? He’s so neurotic, he probably thinks that the Martians are responsible.’

  ‘He was one of Dennis’s closest friends.’

  ‘Sure. I know. He’s also a volunteer at the Men’s Center, and comes to my clinic for regular scanning, though I can’t think why. He claims he hasn’t done it with anybody for years, which I believe. He’s so uptight about sex, I can’t understand why he continues to make appointments to see me.’

  Clive was mortified that, having informed on Steve, he had just placed Michael’s best friend in a highly dangerous situation. Consequently, he felt he had to try and backtrack and focus Allen’s attention away from Steve, and back to himself. ‘So you think I should put this wipe-out theory of Den’s just down to a lot of hysterical gossip?’

  ‘I just think this Arizona business is rather far-fetched, that’s all, and there’s no hard evidence to back up Den’s theory. You know, Clive, we have to be very careful not to stir up a hornets’ nest right now. Things are looking bad enough for the gay community here in Columbus, and we don’t want to inflame what is already a delicate situation with false accusations of treason.’

  ‘And what if these are not false allegations? Was it treason to uncover the Watergate affair? If it hadn’t been for the determination of those two brave journalists, that scandal would never have come to the attention of the American public either.’

  And then without thinking that he might be putting himself in the greatest danger of all, Clive added that was exactly what he was thinking of doing. He said that he thought that his PA, Shirley Morris would know the right journalist to go to with Dennis’s story; someone who’d be prepared to put him or herself on the line.

  ‘I think that’s a very bad idea, Clive. A very bad idea indeed! Think of the trouble you might cause. The best thing you can do right now is to make sure that Dennis’s name is kept clean and remain absolutely quiet about the rumours you’ve heard. And you’d be helping the Columbus gay community much more by doing nothing at the moment … Absolutely nothing.’

  Then, trying to extricate himself from the hole he seemed to have dug himself into, Clive admitted that perhaps Allen was right and he should just drop it all. He apologised profusely but said that he didn’t feel he was on top of his emotions at the moment and perhaps losing Dennis had caused him to lose the plot completely.

  ‘And that’s totally understandable,’ Allen admitted. ‘But we have to be rational about all this. For heaven’s sake, I’m trying to protect the gay community and urge them to take medical precautions. That’s different from suggesting that they get themselves involved in subversive politics.’

  ‘I understand where you’re coming from,’ said Clive. ‘But the more I learn about what’s going on over here, the more I fear for what will happen in Europe, and in my own country in particular. And without appearing to sound too paranoid, I’m frightened that AIDS will have an equally devastating effect on the entire gay community over there, if not physically then politically and, ultimately, psychologically. I now know for certain that it doesn’t just afflict the body; it can equally destroy the spirit. It just seems too coincidental that it’s affecting mainly gays – and who really cares if a few Haitian lads fall by the wayside?’

  ‘Clive, you’re a very intelligent man and, without wishing to sound patronising or too condescending, I simply think we must do all we can to prevent the spread of this damn thing and that this should be our priority at the moment.’

  Clive thought that was rich coming from the very man whom he now suspected of having injected Dennis with the deadly
disease in the first place.

  ‘Let’s face it, as I’ve heard you say many times: we may speak the same language, but we don’t go about things in the same way, now do we?’ Allen remarked.

  ‘That’s perfectly true,’ said Clive. ‘And you know what? I should stop poking my nose into other people’s business. You see there’s still a great deal I don’t understand about this wonderful country of yours, even though I’ve been coming here, on and off, for the last twenty years.’

  ‘And I hope we’ll see you over here for the next twenty years.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  Speaking of alcohol, now I could do with that drink you offered me earlier on.’

  ‘You and me both,’ said Clive, ‘and I think we should go and eat, don’t you?’

  The two men had been so engrossed in their heated debate, Clive only then realised that they’d been in the restaurant car park for some time. He hoped he’d managed to ease the tension between them, and had successfully assured Allen that he would put Dennis’ wipe-out theory out of his mind completely. He now needed to camouflage any suspicious feelings he still had about the good doctor and hoped he had succeeded in so doing.

  ‘Dear me,’ Clive admitted, ‘I got so carried away, I forgot all about dinner.’

  ‘I hope you’re still hungry?’

  ‘Ravenous.’

  ‘Great. The food is very good here. Listen, I’m not unsympathetic to what you’ve been saying, really I’m not. Let’s continue our discussion when you come and see me next week for your checkup. Try to make it late morning, so we can have lunch afterwards.’

  ‘I’d like that very much indeed. Let’s not talk about this business over dinner tonight in front of Michael, if that’s all right with you?’

  ‘Whatever you say, Clive.’

  The restaurant was relatively small by American standards, charmingly decorated, and had a distinctly French atmosphere, with lots of red-checked tablecloths, posters of various Parisian landmarks on the walls, and there were French songs playing in the background. Allen seemed to know some of the waiters and he was warmly greeted by the maître d’ who, with a distinct French accent, asked them what he could offer them both to drink as he began to usher them over to their cosy, candlelit corner table. As they meandered their way through the restaurant, Allen said hello to a number of people and exchanged the odd quick joke. Then at one table, he was stopped by four gentlemen, shook hands with them, and briefly introduced Clive. It soon became abundantly clear to Clive that they had entered a gay establishment and the fact that there wasn’t a single woman in the place did not surprise the Brit in the least. So, having caused quite a stir as they wended their way, making several stops en route, they finally arrived at their corner destination to find Michael already ensconced and waiting, seemingly amused by their grand entrance.

  ‘Well, here you are at last!’ Michael left his friends standing as he continued. ‘Honestly … I’m only onto my third Manhattan … I just couldn’t wait any longer. Oh, do please sit down! Anyway, what have you two guys been up to? Tell me Clive, has Uncle Allen just been giving you a private examination?’

  ‘No, that’s arranged for next Tuesday,’ Allen replied apologetically, seeming not to get Michael’s joke.

  ‘Now, don’t be so cheeky!’ exclaimed Clive. ‘I’m so very sorry we’re late, but actually it’s all my fault. You see I was the one doing the cross-examining, since there were just a few questions I needed to put to Allen after his talk, which was terrific, by the way, and tremendously well attended. It was so awfully useful and it has really helped me get my head around a lot of this AIDS stuff. Mea culpa … so please forgive us.’

  Michael responded that he was glad it had helped. ‘And there you go again with your quaint expressions. Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I’m only joking. And this is my first by the way.’ And Michael raised his glass and took a sip of his martini.

  ‘Michael, I did get the message you left for me on my answering service at the clinic and I figured that as you were going to be late, there was no need for us to rush.’

  ‘I’ve really only just got here myself. There was so much to sort through in the attic, I completely lost track of the hour. And by the time I had cleaned myself up, I realised that I was running late. Then, Allen, just after I’d put a call through to you at the clinic, I got Steve on the phone, which further delayed me. He sounded very agitated and, well … I know this is supposed to be a strictly off-duty evening for you, but he said he was feeling real sick and I was wondering…’

  ‘You know what a hypochondriac Steve is. It’s probably nothing that a few dozen more vitamin pills won’t cure.’

  ‘Honestly, he sounded very distressed and not at all like his usual jolly self.’

  ‘Oh, really? Then I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be unkind just then.’

  ‘He thinks he’s got it!’

  ‘AIDS, you mean? That’s extremely unlikely. You know Steve better than I do. He swears he hasn’t been with anyone for ages, and he’s always telling me that he’s terrified of having sex and catching something.’

  ‘But you said earlier on tonight,’ Clive interrupted, ‘that it can lie dormant for years.’

  ‘It’s perfectly true that I did say the incubation period can be several years in some cases. In fact, without wanting to sound too alarmist, that’s why I suggested you come in and have a check-up yourself next week, while you’re still here in Columbus.’

  ‘Allen, I’m so grateful to you for organising that for Clive,’ said Michael. ‘But although I realise that tomorrow’s Sunday, I just wonder if you could possibly spare the time to call in on Steve. We’d all be very grateful, wouldn’t we, Clive? He says his glands are swollen and he’s got night sweats. I suppose it could just be a chill…’

  ‘And I suppose I’m being unreasonable. Of course I’ll see him tomorrow and take a blood test.’

  Would that be the end of Steve too? Clive began to wonder, and he started to feel guilty because he’d incriminated Steve. So, in an attempt to cover up his true feelings of distrust for Allen, and using all his thespian skills, he embarked on the performance of a lifetime: ‘Poor Allen, you really do seem to have your work cut out, don’t you? What with me bombarding you with endless questions when you’re supposedly off-duty…’

  Michael chimed in: ‘And me asking you to be an angel of mercy on your day off…’

  Allen simply smiled back at the two of them, straightened his tie, raised the martini that one of the waiters had placed in front of him and with that awful sardonic grin of his replied: ‘Now listen, you two guys. You very well know that’s what I’m here for!’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHIRLEY AT THE SHERATON SUNDAY

  Shirley’s flight from New York arrived on time on Sunday evening, and Clive was there to meet her at the airport as arranged. As she walked towards him, wearing a striking Jean Muir outfit in dark purple, and as usual, with her Auntie Flo’s mink jacket draped around her shoulders, Clive realised how much he had missed his dear friend and the extent to which he relied on her support and trust. Although his love affair with America was by no means over, the events of the last week had made him feel rather homesick and somewhat isolated, and the sight of Shirley in the airport arrivals hall made him cheer up enormously.

  With affectionate greetings accomplished, they took a cab into town and Shirley directed the driver to the Columbus Sheraton, where she’d reserved two rooms. Over dinner Clive brought her up to speed with everything he’d found out in the course of the last few days. He took her into his confidence completely, and confessed that he was now more convinced than ever that, because Dennis knew too much, he had to be got rid of and had been a target of the FBI.

  Then, with dinner over, Clive suggested that they returned to the privacy his room, where he felt he could go into greater detail, so long as Shirley wasn’t feeling too exhausted.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t get jetlag just comin
g from New York, and besides, I want to learn more. You surely don’t really believe that they bumped Dennis off?’

  ‘I didn’t to start with, but now I think there’s a strong possibility that they did!’

  ‘Oh my goodness! I thought he died of AIDS … Now, come on darling, what’s that Spoke intuition telling you?’

  ‘It’s this blood-test business. You see, I think the two things are connected and although I know that Dennis had been to the STD clinic months before he contracted AIDS and that he—’

  ‘Sorry,’ Shirley interrupted, ‘but just remind me, what does STD stand for?’

  ‘Sexually transmitted diseases: it’s what back home we call the VD clinic.’

  ‘Yes, of course it is. But,’ Shirley persisted, ‘what has this STD clinic actually got to do with contracting AIDS?’

  ‘Well, I think it may have a lot to do with it.’

  Shirley claimed that she still didn’t quite understand what Clive was driving at. She thought that medically speaking, as far as she was aware, one sexually transmitted condition didn’t automatically lead to another. ‘Am I right – or what?’

  ‘Yes Shirley, that’s possibly so … But in Dennis’ case, I believe it may all be interconnected. You see I’ve got a horrible feeling that a certain Dr Allen Levitt may be mixed up with all this and he’s the chap who runs the STD clinic attached to the hospital here in Columbus. It was this doctor who treated Dennis for a mild bout of syphilis last year and gave Den a blood test for AIDS shortly before he contracted it.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Now, you’ve told me about meeting Steve Leggard, but when we last spoke, you were just about to be introduced to Dr Levitt. So tell me, how did he strike you?’

  ‘Although I think he’s very charming and clever, there’s just something about him that I’m beginning not to trust.’

  ‘And he runs the STD clinic?’

  ‘Correct. He’s in charge there, and apparently, according to Michael, earlier this year, Dennis had gone along to see him for night sweats, and then shortly afterwards developed full-blown AIDS.’