The Rainbow Conspiracy

by Stuart Hopps

  Such were Clive’s vivid memories of the time he’d had with his Columbus boys on that very first visit. He had such an amazing ability to visualise what had happened, and, although he was still wide awake after Michael’s dinner party, he did finally come to his senses in that room at the Sheraton and realised that he needed to switch off and try to get some shut-eye. It was important to be well rested and ready to face up to the challenge he had set himself for the following day’s visit to Allen’s clinic. So, despite Clive’s immensely strong powers of recall, he reached over, took one of Shirley’s sleeping pills, turned off the light and was eventually able to put memories of his reunion with Dennis to one side, and willed himself to go to sleep.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE CHECK-UP TUESDAY

  Shirley and Clive had both requested alarm calls, were quickly washed and dressed, and, having had a light breakfast together and the imperative cup of coffee, met up again in the hotel lobby at least ten minutes prior to the arranged nine o’clock pick-up time. As agreed the night before, Michael had kindly volunteered to drive Clive over to Allen’s clinic the following morning and because the check-up was to be purely routine, he appeared to be a little put out to find Shirley, fur jacketed and suitcase in hand, waiting alongside Clive by the hotel reception desk.

  She explained that because she was planning to fly back to New York later that day, they’d both checked out of their rooms and, in order to kill time before her plane took off, she’d decided to go with Clive on his visit to the doctor’s. Using all the charm in the world, she added that she knew Clive was looking forward to moving back into number 257 and her convincing explanation appeared to win Michael round. The two Brits once again thanked Michael for the spiffing good time they had at his dinner party, and told him how much they’d enjoyed meeting his charming parents. Over dinner the previous evening, it had become abundantly obvious to the assembled guests that the two Brits were not only very close colleagues but also inseparable friends, which further helped persuade Michael that it was hardly surprising that Shirley wanted to accompany her boss to the clinic. However, it was hopefully also apparent that Michael had absolutely no idea that there was any ulterior motive in her going along for Clive’s check-up and, more importantly, neither did either of the two Londoners believe that Michael had a clue about the plot they’d hatched the previous day.

  Shirley also explained that as well as booking her own flight home, she had taken care of Clive’s travel arrangements back to London via New York for the following day. Michael more than understood that the two had pressing commitments in both cities, and accepted that their Columbus sojourn would have to come to an end at some time or another. He’d been invited to join them both at Le Gai Paris for a late lunch before Shirley got her plane, and he was looking forward to what he knew would be a jolly threesome. He left them at the clinic in good time, and told them that he was going to look in on Steve and perform his angel of mercy’s good deed for that day, and reminded them that he would be back to collect them in about half an hour.

  Clive had never actually been inside the clinic, having only ever seen it from a distance, and he felt that the single-storey modern building that housed it looked rather like an English bungalow. It was completely detached from the adjacent and larger Columbus General Hospital, and set back in its own grounds at the end of a long drive that turned off from the gates of the main entrance to the hospital and wound round to its own independent front door. Once inside, it felt not unlike other similar institutionalised buildings he’d frequented back home and, as he and Shirley took stock of the general layout of the rooms and the central corridor leading off from the entrance, they felt that there would be no problem beating the hasty retreat they had rehearsed, should that become at all necessary.

  The two of them were greeted by a very efficient-looking nurse, who sat behind a long curved desk placed to one side of the waiting area, which was devoid of other patients. Sporting a badge bearing her name, Nurse Edith Grant invited them to take a seat and assured them that since Mr Spoke had an appointment to see the doctor, it was unlikely that he would be kept waiting. In no time at all, Allen emerged from one of three doors that faced the six rows of vacant chairs opposite, wearing a typical long white clinician’s coat as well as that broad, beaming grin of his.

  He was somewhat surprised to find Shirley sitting beside Clive, but nonetheless greeted the Brits in a friendly manner, and introduced them both to Nurse Edith. He said how much he’d enjoyed the dinner party the previous evening and how well he thought Michael was doing, considering what he’d been through over the last three months. The greetings now over, he politely took his leave of Shirley, guided Clive to his office doorway and ushered his patient in.

  On closing the door behind them, he began his examination with a fine display of traditional old and well-trusted bedside manners, which began with him inviting Clive to take a seat, remove his raincoat, and make himself comfortable. So, with such formalities over, the check-up began.

  ‘Now Clive, when did your doctor last give you a thorough examination?’

  ‘Honestly Allen, I really can’t remember. But it must have been ages ago.’ And knocking gently on the wooden desk in front of him, he continued: ‘I really don’t feel the need to see him much these days because I’m in reasonably good health … I think!’

  ‘Well, yes, I must say you look pretty fit to me.’

  As Clive took in the room, he noted that there were a number of glass-doored cabinets fitted along one of the walls, and since he was on the lookout for the much-detested needles, he hoped that they might be housed there. The plan was well-rehearsed in his brain; he knew what he was looking for, and assumed that any toxin would be kept in the fridge, so he was keen to spot where that might be located. Outside in the waiting area, Shirley had brought a book to read, which appeared to engross her completely, but her mind was elsewhere and she was equally well prepared to play her part in the deception. It was essential to get Allen called away and leave Clive alone in the doctor’s office, totally free to rummage around and find the evidence they were sorely in need of finding, speed being of the utmost importance for both their sakes.

  There was a slight pause in the proceedings in the doctor’s office while Allen put pen to paper and Clive enquired whether he should pay before the examination began. Dr Levitt explained that would not be necessary, since Clive needed to settle the account with his nurse on leaving the surgery.

  Then Clive revealed a genuine hint of nervousness as he asked the doctor whether he should get undressed.

  ‘I think you’re gonna have to if I’m to give you a thorough examination.’

  Removing his cardigan and then undoing the buttons of his pristine white shirt, Clive reflected that he felt nowhere near as shy undressing in the surgery he went to back home as he did now in front of Dr Allen Levitt. But then he also had to admit to himself that his GP in London was most certainly not a sexy young man, nor, for that matter, was Dr Gilmore gay. As he slowly removed his brogues, grey flannel trousers and underwear, he also realised that he had no definite proof of Allen’s sexual orientation, since for some time now, he had begun to entertain second thoughts about Allen’s repeated assertions that he was homosexual. His Spoke intuition was starting to doubt all that Dr Allen Levitt actually stood for and, not unsurprisingly, this line of reasoning made undressing in front of him become a great deal easier.

  Allen sat while Clive now stood naked in front of him and he began his close examination by running his hands up and down Clive’s body. He clearly appeared to know what he was looking for and at least that left Clive in no doubt as to the veracity of his medical credentials. He put pressure on various parts of Clive’s anatomy and even gently squeezed his skin in several places as he looked for signs of a blemish or rough surface.

  ‘Allen, do you mind giving my left foot a closer look. You see there’s a small purple patch on it which has been troubling me and causing me some con
cern since your lecture the other evening.’

  ‘Of course, lift it up.’

  He gave the mark a gentle squeeze. ‘Not to worry about that. It’s only a birthmark. But could you now please open wide.’ And with that, he looked into his new patient’s mouth and down his throat. ‘Well, I’m glad to say that there’s no sign of thrush.’

  ‘I should hope not!’ responded Clive once his mouth was free.

  ‘You know, you’d be amazed how common it is. The problem is that you can have it but not realise. Like a lot of these damn things.’

  He went on to look inside Clive’s ears and up his nose: ‘There don’t appear to be any nasty little blotches there either … or there.’

  ‘That’s a huge relief. I haven’t had such a complete overhaul in years. I’m most grateful to you, Allen.’

  ‘You know I always advise people to have a yearly check-up, not just because of this AIDS scare, but as a general health precaution. Nowadays it’s highly advisable, since there are so many nasty things about, and the detection of early warning signs would save so much illness and misery in the long run. I mean, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ replied Clive, lying through his teeth. ‘You know, Allen, back home, it’s compulsory for our actors to have a thorough medical examination prior to signing a movie contract. Film companies need to be assured that their leading man – or woman, for that matter – isn’t going to peg out halfway through the filming and bring everything to a standstill. Having to find a replacement can cost them a fortune and then there is the additional expense of a reshoot, which just creates a huge amount of unnecessary extra work for all of us at Spoke Associates.’

  ‘Well, that makes total sense. By the way, I didn’t ask you where your office is located in London.’

  Clive attached little importance to Allen’s enquiry at the time and told him that Spoke Associates was just off Saint Martin’s Lane, in a charming little pedestrian precinct called Cecil Court, in the heart of London’s theatre district.

  ‘That sounds delightful, and so convenient for your work.’ Then Allen asked Clive to move over onto the medical couch located on the other side of the room, causing his patient to show more than a little amusement.

  ‘Yes, what is it about the good old casting couch? It never fails to raise a smile with even the most nervous of patients. I bet I know what’s running through that wicked mind of yours, Clive!’

  Clive hoped in hell that he didn’t and, laughing off Allen’s remark, he asked: ‘I couldn’t have a glass of water, could I?’

  ‘Yes, of course! Still or sparkling?’

  ‘Sparkling, please.’ And sure enough, it was kept in the fridge.

  The Brits had decided to go into action after twelve minutes of Clive having been admitted into the doctor’s office and, naturally, it was imperative that Allen knew nothing. After the agreed time had elapsed, Shirley would set about feigning her fainting fit, which she hoped would so alarm the nurse at the admissions desk, it would cause the young woman to alert Allen to the unfortunate situation. It was to be expected that this would make the doctor leave his office and come immediately to Shirley’s rescue, thus leaving Clive alone, enabling him to go into action. Then, when Shirley had come to and was stable, Clive’s check-up could continue, and once things had returned back to normal, they would both leave the building as though nothing had happened.

  However, as the examination progressed, Clive’s imagination ran riot. What if Allen held an ace card; one that he and Shirley had not bargained for? What if, in setting up his clinic, Allen had been fully prepared by his mentors in Tucson or Washington or wherever the hell he’d been conditioned, and had been briefed that in the likelihood of his cover being blown, he would have to ensure that not a trace of his involvement could ever be discovered? Clive believed that men like Allen were thorough professionals: they were enlisted voluntarily, and, although you might say that they had been brainwashed, it was also obvious that they were totally aware of the deadly game they were playing. Not for one moment did Clive think that a posh car or an expensive wristwatch could be sufficient compensation for what Allen might be assigned to do.

  This once again provoked him to consider the enigma of the Allen’s motivation and made him question why Allen had become involved in this ghastly business in the first place. As Dr Levitt raised Clive’s left leg and squeezed the calf muscle, his patient tried to get his head around what might be the root cause of Allen’s disaffection with the gay community. He was aware that, for religious reasons, Allen claimed to be conflicted by his own homosexuality, but Clive felt that this was hardly sufficient motive to trigger the degree of hatred which would have led him to play such a destructive role and be the instrument of so much suffering and cruelty. He knew that being Jewish, Allen would be familiar with the Old Testament and the severe teachings in Leviticus: ‘God will bring sudden terror on detestable practices, wasting diseases that will destroy sight and sap such men of their strength.’

  AIDS had certainly done that all right, and if Allen really believed that being queer was truly an abomination punishable by death, that would have contributed to his murderous actions. If found guilty of Dennis’s demise, then he most certainly had blood on his hands, but the whys and wherefores behind Allen’s behaviour were somewhat irrelevant. What mattered now was to put a stop to it all, much in the same way that Allen had put a stop to Dennis’s life, as well as numerous other Columbus casualties.

  ‘I hope I’m not squeezing too hard?’

  Allen’s slightly suggestive remark had not thrown Clive in the least and he used all his thespian skills to counter it with the performance of a lifetime. ‘Oh, come on Allen, you can see I fancy you rotten. I did from the moment I first set eyes on you when I opened the door for you at Den’s house.’

  ‘Clive, let’s get one thing straight, shall we? I may be gay, but I really don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure. I’m honestly not in the habit of seducing every attractive male patient who walks into my surgery, even if they are charming and from London – I’m sorry!’

  It was exactly the kind of reply Clive had expected and for which he was totally prepared: ‘And I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you.’

  ‘Apology not needed. Then,’ Allen firmly enquired, ‘shall we continue?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. Now Clive, please turn over.’

  Clive knew it was coming, and he was equally prepared for it. This certainly was not the first time a doctor had inserted something up his back passage and so he tried to relax. He supposed that Allen was having a good look around the entry wall as well as inside the cavity of his anus, and thought he would probably be taking a smear, which would be sent for analysis at a laboratory.

  ‘Everything all right down there?’

  ‘Seems that way. I’m just inserting a swab. I won’t get the final answer until the results come back from the lab in a few days’ time.’ Then, once that part of the examination was completed, Allen asked Clive to turn onto his back again.

  ‘This is similar to the kind of examination we get at our VD clinic in London.’

  ‘I suppose it must be, although we’re on the lookout for possibilities other than gonorrhoea and syphilis; though we do find them too, you know. Now, this one’s always a bit more painful.’

  Then, as he was about to insert a smaller narrow swab into the aperture of Clive’s penis, he added: ‘Please sit up.’

  At this point, all hell seemed to break loose in the waiting room and there was a loud knocking on his surgery door which, fortunately for Clive, interrupted the examination. It was Nurse Edith shouting for Allen to come quickly to the reception area.

  ‘Sorry about this, Clive, but I better go and see what on earth’s going on out there.’ And with that, he swiftly left the room, at last leaving Clive alone and able to accomplish his mission.

  Nurse Edith quickly explained that not only had Shirley passed out,
but she appeared to be in a great deal of pain. The nurse apologised profusely for interrupting Allen’s examination, but since the Englishwoman had arrived with Mr Spoke, she felt it necessary to let them both know what had happened. She said that she’d tried to make the lady as comfortable as possible on the floor in the recovery position and had covered her with a couple of blankets.

  Allen immediately took Shirley’s pulse, and after giving her a very cursory examination, announced to Nurse Edith that she had done absolutely the right thing in calling him away from his patient, although he hinted that it had somewhat complicated matters. Shirley, still pretending to have passed out, had picked up on his last remark but remained quite still. Then Allen announced to Nurse Edith that he felt he could leave Shirley in her more than capable hands for a minute or two, while he returned to his patient and explained what had happened. Meanwhile, Clive had lost no time in setting to work and made a quick search of the fridge and grabbed a small container of what he hoped might be the deadly toxin. Next he went over to the cabinets he had spotted on entering Allen’s office, but the first he tried contained plasters, bandages and a collection of hand towels. He had greater success with the second cabinet, where he found a tray of needles in the top drawer, along with several rows of plastic capsules in the drawer below, which he supposed were used to store blood samples, probably obtained from unsuspecting patients. He carefully wrapped six of each in two large handkerchiefs he had secreted in the inside pocket of his raincoat as quickly as he could and then replaced the remainder.