by V. J. Banis
“Meaning, it was made safe for fairies to cruise in,” Mathews said.
“It was made safe for anyone, gay or straight, who wanted to walk there. The entire city benefited from what these two men had done. Anyway, they decided they might be happier if they devoted themselves to that sort of thing in the future. The one had the money, the other was highly trained in police work. They approached a few more friends, experts in various fields—the idea caught on like wildfire—and here we are now.”
Craig shook his head. It was an incredible story and yet, sitting here in this underground hideout, only yards away from the White House itself and yet undetected by the sharpest agents who watched the area, to say nothing of the local police, he couldn’t help being impressed.
“And you?” Craig asked finally. “How did you get into this?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Jackie said with a reminiscent smile. “I had a crush on someone, my idol. He became the victim of a blackmailer, and finally took his life, after losing everything. When I was approached by C.A.M.P., I wasn’t much more than a child, but I jumped at the chance to become an agent.”
A red light began blinking on and off over the door to the inner offices, cutting short Jackie’s dissertation. “They’ve got something for me,” Jackie said, standing and heading for the door. “Be back in a minute.”
He was smiling triumphantly when he returned a minute later.
“How are they doing with it?” Craig asked, without much hope.
“Oh, great,” Jackie said. “They’ve got it all translated for us.”
Craig was unable to believe what he had heard. “You mean they decoded that damned thing already? My boys worked on it for hours, without any luck at all.”
Jackie handed him a typed sheet, with the translated message.
“The assassination will take place as scheduled, on Friday,” Craig read aloud. He glanced up, his eyes worried. “This is big,” he said. “That much is obvious. But whose assassination?”
Jackie shrugged. “That’s all there was to the note. But this is Monday already—check that, Tuesday morning, and we’re going to have to get busy if we’re going to do anything to prevent it.”
“There’s one place we can safely start,” Craig said, standing grimly. “That poodle parlor that the note came from. I think it’s safe to say that’s a front for the Butterfly operation.”
“What about all those warrants and things we’ll need,” Jackie asked. “Of course, if I were working on my own, I wouldn’t bother with them.”
“Neither will I,” Craig said. “I’ll worry about protocol later, but for now I don’t want those snakes to get away from us while we’re being polite.”
Jackie led the way out of the underground hideout. In the first chamber inside, he used a periscope to assure that the coast was clear above before letting them out.
Minutes later, they were once again strolling through Lafayette Park.
* * * *
The poodle parlor was not far from Aunt Lily’s home. It was dark, which was to be expected at this hour of night. Jackie and Craig looked over the front, and then circled around to the back that opened into an alley. This was darker and a less conspicuous place to enter than the street.
“We’ll have to force the lock,” Mathews said as he tried the door stealthily.
“That might give anyone inside a warning of our approach, if there is anyone inside.” Jackie stooped down and examined the lock. It was not a particularly difficult one, quite simple in fact in design.
He removed a small mechanism from his pocket, a collection of wires of varied sizes, twisted in various shapes. He tried first one, and then another of the “picks”. There was a telltale click, and the door opened for him.
Mathews said nothing, but as he led the way into the dark interior, he was making some revision to his opinion regarding the small, blond agent with him. Queer or not, Jackie was one hell of a sharp operator. Craig was beginning to feel that Jackie was the one person he would most like to have about in a pinch.
Mathews drew a gun from his shoulder holster. Jackie, he noticed, was not armed, and Craig discreetly led the way down a short, dark hallway. They paused when they reached the door at the end. The room beyond could be empty and harmless—or they could be walking into a hornet’s nest.
Jackie tapped Craig’s shoulder and gave him a “let me” gesture. Craig was dubious, but at Jackie’s insistent nod, he stepped aside. With one hand, Jackie quietly but quickly twisted the knob and shoved the door open a few inches. With the other, he tossed something inside. A second later there was a quick puff of smoke and a flash of light. Jackie closed the door quickly and grinned at Craig’s puzzled face.
“Harmless, but effective in putting anyone to sleep,” he explained. “If there was anyone inside, they won’t give us any trouble now.”
They waited a moment longer before Jackie nodded that it was safe now for them to go inside. “The gas dissipates rapidly,” he said, opening the door.
Their caution, however, had not been necessary. There was no one inside the room, nor in the main shop beyond it. What’s more, it was evident that whoever might have been here earlier in the day was gone and would not be coming back. The place had been stripped bare.
“They must have realized that they mixed up the dogs,” Craig said, looking around in disappointment. “They bolted.”
Jackie said nothing, although he too was disappointed. He had hoped to be in on a rare arrest of Butterfly personnel. There was still another problem to be considered, however, beyond their individual chagrin.
Someone was going to be assassinated. They didn’t know who, or when, or how, only that it was going to happen. And without a lead to go on, it was unlikely they could do anything to prevent it.
* * * *
It was not much before dawn by the time Craig dropped Jackie off at Aunt Lily’s home in one of the older sections of the city. Mathews was obviously tired and disappointed by the evening’s outcome. Jackie too was sorry that their efforts had not been more successful. Unlike Mathews, however, he was not yet showing any signs of weariness. As an agent for C.A.M.P., he was accustomed to keeping long and irregular hours. If need be, he could easily continue on at full steam for another day, or longer.
The house was dark except for a light at the front door, and another one shining dimly in the front hall. Jackie removed his shoes and carried them as he went up the gracefully curved stairway, searching his memory for the location of Honey’s room. He remembered, and found it without any difficulty.
Honey was sleeping soundly, as he had expected. His bed was an elaborate, canopied affair, feminine and luxurious. In the midst of the silk sheets and brocaded coverlets, Honey had kicked the coverings from his body and was curled up invitingly. In the moonlight that filtered through the window, his gamin-like body gleamed with alabaster whiteness. He wore a pair of very scant briefs that appeared to be silk also, and, so far as Jackie could tell in the light, were pink, or maybe pale lavender.
There was nothing feminine, however, about the enormous bulge that lifted the front of the briefs ceilingward, even in its relaxed stage. Jackie eyed the tempting outline hungrily, but courtesy held him in check. It would be thoughtless to awaken Honey at this hour, when such matters could wait until morning.
Suppressing his disappointment, Jackie pulled his eyes away from the enchanting vista, and began to undress. The body that was gradually exposed to the moonlight was a paradox, as Jackie himself was in many ways. Like Honey, Jackie was sometimes effeminate to the extreme. In Jackie’s case, however, this was only another of the roles that he assumed when it was convenient for his work—an effeminate homosexual was less likely to be suspected of being an agent, and was not so feared. When it was necessary, however, Jackie could quickly discard all such mannerisms, and could appear as masculine as anyone. With him, it was a matter of conscious choice.
His appearance was equally deceptive. He was small and slender, and th
e casual observer would no doubt regard him as weak and helpless. In fact, Jackie was far from either condition. His limbs, although small, were molded of sheer, rocklike muscle. Combined with a strength that could almost be described as superhuman, was a speed and agility that never failed to confound his enemies. He could move like greased lightening—he had run the mile in just about half of the world’s record, and that with no effort. There were few if any sports in which he did not excel. Superfag, he had once been described by one of his associates, and indeed the name was not far from the truth.
Naked, he stretched lazily before dropping to the floor and rapidly executing a few hundred pushups, alternating from one hand to the other. It was a policy that he never failed to exercise at least slightly each day, to insure that he would stay in top-notch condition. In his business, being out of condition could mean going out of business, the hard way.
Finally, with a last wistful glance at Honey’s briefs, he crawled into bed and stretched out on his back, staring up at the flower-print canopy above as he thought over the day’s events, and considered the question of his return to Los Angeles. There was not much he could accomplish here, and by all rights he should be on his way back. On the other hand, it had been a while since he allowed himself a day off. He had checked for messages while at the C.A.M.P. office earlier, and learned from Rich that things were quiet on the West Coast. And Rich knew where to get in touch with him if anything came up.
His thoughts changed directions quite suddenly. A second later, all thought of Rich, the West Coast, or C.A.M.P., were completely gone from his mind, and he was aware of only one thing...the warm, strong, very-much-awake hand that had slid across his stomach and taken firm hold of him.
Never unprepared, his flesh responded instantly and totally, rising to the occasion admirably. Beside him on the bed, Jackie heard Honey giggle delightedly at the instant results.
“I thought you were asleep,” Jackie whispered, rolling over on his side and reaching for his companion.
“I was,” Honey said, coming into Jackie’s arms without hesitation. “But a man’s body will wake me up every time. My one nostril twitches whenever one gets within two feet of me.”
“What a crazy burglar alarm,” Jackie decided. He was prevented from making further comment by the ripe fullness of Honey’s mouth glued hotly to his. Honey, he decided at once, was a honey—sweet and smooth, brewed from the loveliest and most fragrant of blossoms. He kicked himself mentally as he thought how available Honey had been to him all along, and he had never done anything about it before.
“You know,” he whispered, nibbling Honey’s ear. “When I saw you five years ago, you were only fifteen, and a gangly, bad-complexioned brat.”
“You should know better than to judge a fruit before it’s ripe,” Honey told him.
Jackie’s hand had invaded the rear area of those briefs. They were silk, all right, and they very quickly allowed him access to the warm, sweet flesh beneath. This was one fruit, Jackie told himself happily, that was now plenty ripe.
“If you don’t take those damned things off me,” Honey said. “They’re going to be ripped in two soon.”
Jackie allowed himself to feel in front. It was true, the briefs were certainly being stretched beyond their reasonable capacity. Always sympathetic, Jackie chose to alleviate the sufferings of the fabric. He clasped the elastic in his fingers and slid it downward, over the hips that Honey lifted to make the task easier. Jackie’s mouth was following the fabric, although when he reached the open plains of Honey’s flat abdomen, his mouth fell behind.
He inched his way slowly downward, an ocean of soft, curly hair tickling his nose, and finally he collided with Honey’s answer to the Washington Monument. In the dark, it didn’t seem much different from the original, and skilled though he was in such matters, Jackie doubted he would be able to manage it all. Still, he could think of nothing more delightful than making the attempt.
Stiff problem that it was, Jackie made a determined effort to absorb it deeply, with a degree of success that promised him real fulfillment in the not too distant future. For the moment, however, he wanted to taste all of the rich harvest before him. He explored to the very root of the subject and then beyond, the path lying open to him. He reached his goal, and lingered there to make a penetrating analysis before Honey’s squirming and moaning warned him that he best not delay.
In a twinkling, Jackie was back to his original location, and with no regrets at having been summoned there. He had always disliked catching cold, but he never complained about having something in his throat. Nor did he mind in the least when Honey decided to occupy himself. They held tightly to one another, their bodies moving in see-saw fashion, and Jackie could only be grateful that he did not have to dine alone.
It was short and frantic. Honey’s mouth and tongue were as skilled as his anatomy was satisfying. Jackie soared upward into the heavens and, as he exploded in his delight, it felt as though the top were being blown off his head.
He was aware of the fact that Honey was right there with him, joining him flood for flood—but most important, or at least most prominent in Jackie’s consciousness, was the realization that he had, at the very last, surmounted Everest, so to speak. Except that, where mountain climbers crowed about reaching the top, Jackie was as proud as any of them to have reached the bottom. In the morning, he would probably be sore, but for the moment he felt mighty like the canary that had claimed the cat. Furthermore, he had answered his own questions about returning to Los Angeles, or remaining here for a few days. He planned on a great deal of visiting before going.
CHAPTER SIX
It was late morning by the time Jackie awoke. He opened his eyes to see that he had not been dreaming the night before after all, as he had momentarily supposed. There, only inches from his face, was the same pulsing source of delight that had provided him such pleasure. Jackie stared at it briefly, managing to raise his eyes only with some effort. Honey was awake, and grinning down at him.
“Just saving breakfast for you,” Honey announced, edging closer.
There was nothing Jackie liked better than breakfast in bed. As a result, it was nearly noon by the time he and Honey ventured downstairs. Aunt Lily greeted them pleasantly, and insisted on bringing fresh coffee into the breakfast room for them, and even joining them.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she said as she seated herself between the two young men. “I mean, it’s been so exciting being involved in international espionage—just like in a James Bond thriller, don’t you see.”
“Well, Aunt Lily,” Jackie said, smiling tolerantly at her over his coffee cup. “I’m afraid it never comes out quite as simple as in those books. It’s actually a very difficult and dangerous business.”
“I know, but it’s exciting. Anyway, I’ve been wondering why we couldn’t do more of the same. Not you, of course, I know you’re already involved in the field, and I wouldn’t dream of crowding in your territory. But it looks to me like there’s spying enough to go around. And I think this household needs some activity, something to spice up our lives a little.”
“I think you’re right,” Honey agreed, to Jackie’s further concern. “Things do get awfully dull around here. But let us get one coded message, and already we’ve had two gorgeous agents hanging around the place.”
“Thanks for the two compliments,” Jackie said with a grin.
“Two?”
“That I’m gorgeous, and that I’m here.”
“Now, boys,” Aunt Lily interrupted. “Don’t try to get me off the subject. I’ve already spoken to Nasturtia, and Mari, and even Gladiola, and they all think it’s a nice idea. So we’ve decided to have a secret meeting, tonight at midnight.”
“A secret meeting? And at midnight?” Jackie was scarcely able to conceal his amusement. “Why all the mystery?”
“Because I’ve read all those books, and I know that’s the way things are done. Now don’t you worry, I’ll take care
of all the details. Of course, you wouldn’t really have to come, Jackie, but we’d like you there anyway, just to see for yourself how us amateurs can do.”
“I’d be delighted,” Jackie assured her. “Where do I go?”
“The basement, in the furnace room,” Aunt Lily told him. “At the stroke of twelve. And be careful you’re not being followed.”
* * * *
It was shortly before the stroke of twelve that Honey woke Jackie from his sleep. Jackie had, in fact, been asleep only a short while, although he and Honey had come to bed about nine in the evening. There had been more interesting things to attend to, however, than sleep.
“You mean the meeting is still on,” Jackie asked drowsily, reaching for a pair of trousers. “I thought everyone would have forgotten about it by now.”
“I think it’s very exciting,” Honey informed him. “Just think, we may be a big thing internationally.”
“I don’t think the world is ready for you,” Jackie said frankly, but he softened the remark with a grin and a playful grab at Honey’s legs.
* * * *
Surprisingly enough, the others were there—all except Nasturtia. Mari was sent for her, and returned in a few minutes to announce that Aunt Nasturtia was on her way.
“She’d forgotten about it,” Mari explained, “Thought it was tomorrow night anyway.”
While they waited, Jackie glanced about the dimly-lighted room. The windows high up on the walls had been covered with burlap, and Aunt Lily had placed candles about with eerie results.
“What is that?” Jackie asked, pointed to the one wall. The faded portrait could not have looked more out of place, but even more preposterous was the fact that a hole had been cut in the old gentleman’s chest, and through it protruded the lens of an antiquated camera.
“A hidden camera,” Aunt Lily explained in a very matter-of-fact tone. Jackie did not pursue the subject further.