And The Children Shall Lead

by Michael J. Bowler

  Lance and Ricky would charm and cajole and do whatever it took to convince the adults of these states that the CBOR was in the best interests of everyone, not just children.

  †††

  It was the middle of February when Ryan came to Lance and told him the face-to-face with Richard Thornton would be the following day.

  “He’ll be transported today and housed at Parker Center,” his godfather told him in a voice clearly indicating he thought it was a bad idea. “We’ll bring you over in the morning. That okay, Lance? You sure you still wanna do this?”

  Lance and Ricky were in the Computer Lab with Kai and Dakota, Reyna and Esteban, networking with children and adults around the country, when Ryan brought him the news. Lance sat a second in stunned silence now that the reality of stepping into a room alone with the monster had arrived. But everyone would be right outside watching, and Ricky would be there. He’d be fine. “Yeah, nino. I gotta find out if he really knows something or if it’s just more of his sick bullshit.”

  Ryan nodded and left the lab. Reyna instantly swept over and threw her arms around Lance. “Don’t worry, baby boy. If he touches you, I’ll punch his lights out.”

  That made him smile with gratitude and he hugged her back. When she returned to her own station, he found Kai and Dakota watching him with concern. He’d told them what was planned and they insisted on being present. Now Dakota offered a look of encouragement.

  “We’ll help her,” he said, and Kai nodded.

  Ricky placed a hand over his heart. “I got you, Lance. I always got you.”

  Lance smiled and put his hand over his own heart. “And I always got you.”

  †††

  The ride to Parker Center with the Secret Service was made in silence. What was there to say anyway? It had all been said many times. All except the words Father Mike had suggested so long ago that Lance employ, words of forgiveness. He’d pretty much erased Richard from his life that day in the courtroom, but still the man’s name gave him the shivers. Richard had taken a young boy and persecuted him, humiliated him, and sexualized him, while simultaneously equating sex with pain and torment. Would forgiving Richard finally set him free, fully and completely and totally free? These were his thoughts and fears as he clutched tightly to Ricky’s strong hand on the ride downtown to police headquarters.

  He felt unsettled as he entered the crowded Parker Center with its cacophony of sound, people milling about, police officers eyeing him suspiciously. Many, he knew, had not forgotten his harsh indictment of their treatment of him when he’d been arrested. And, of course, none had ever snitched on their brethren who had done the abuse, here or in the Sheriff’s Department. Some officers glowered from their desks, while others were clearly entranced by the sight of Arthur’s entourage parading through the squad room, flanked by Ryan, Gibson and four Secret Service agents. All conversation ceased as the group’s presence became known throughout the massive facility, the very heart of the Los Angeles Police Department.

  Ryan and Gibson led the way past the gawkers and down a long hallway lined with closed doors. Ryan grabbed one of the knobs and turned it, pushing the door inward. He ushered everyone inside silently. The room was not large, and empty of furniture. One wall to the left of the door was an enormous window that looked into the next room over. And sitting at a small wooden table, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, cuffed hands resting on the table, was Richard Thornton.

  Lance gazed through the glass in silence at the man who’d terrorized his life, the man who’d stolen his childhood and left a frightened, empty shell behind. Richard looked thinner than Lance remembered from that last time in court. Thinner and smaller. The man sat staring intently at the window, right at Lance as though he could see him. As he looked into those empty blue eyes, Lance suddenly realized that his heart wasn’t thumping. His breathing hadn’t become ragged. He was calm. There was no fear.

  Arthur looked at his son and made eye contact. Lance nodded, and Arthur gestured to Ryan. The sergeant led Lance out into the hall to the next door over. His hand on the knob, he paused to look at Lance soberly. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure, nino.”

  Ryan reluctantly pushed open the door. Lance immediately stepped through it and closed the door behind him.

  Richard turned those penetrating blue eyes onto Lance as the boy stood tall before him. They simply stared at each other a moment, and Lance remained almost preternaturally calm. No sign of a freak-out, not even sweaty palms. He saw this man of his nightmares in a new light, the light of adulthood. And he wasn’t scared anymore.

  “Well, Richard, what do you have to tell me?” Lance asked in a solid voice, deep and unshaking.

  Richard stood now and Lance almost laughed. He was nearly three inches taller than the man. Richard’s eyes devoured him, just like Mr. D’s had done. But Lance felt rock solid and strong.

  “Still the most beautiful boy in the world, Lance,” the man whispered breathlessly.

  Lance looked at him calmly. “You brought me here to tell me that? You said you knew something about the attacks on me. So spill, Richard, or I’m outta here.”

  Richard suddenly looked panicked, and insignificant. “No, don’t leave. Yes, I do have something to say. Come closer, Lance.”

  Without hesitation, Lance stepped right up to the table and looked into the shorter man’s wide, imploring eyes.

  In the room next door, Ryan stood closest to the door in case of emergency, Arthur beside him. Ricky and Jenny were next, while the others stood behind them. Ryan and Ricky both flinched when Lance stepped forward, but Arthur kept his eyes fixed on his son.

  Lance looked at Richard with a mix of contempt and dismissal. Then Richard reached out with his cuffed hands to gently brush his fingers against Lance’s cheek.

  Ryan made a move for the door, and Ricky started to follow, but Arthur grabbed the sergeant’s arm. “No, James,” he said, never taking his eyes from Lance. “Wait.”

  So Ryan and Ricky anxiously returned their eyes to the scene unfolding before them.

  Lance didn’t flinch at Richard’s touch. He didn’t even blink. He merely stood and allowed the man to caress his cheek as though with love.

  “Still soft and smooth,” Richard purred absently, like his mind had drifted back to the past. “Still my beautiful, smooth little boy.”

  Lance glared until Richard lowered his hands. “I’m not little anymore, Richard, and I was never your boy.” He laughed then, a genuine laugh of release. “It’s not gonna work,” he went on easily and calmly. “There’s no fear like a child’s fear, ’cept I’m not a child now. And I’m not afraid ’a you anymore, Richard.”

  Richard smirked, looking like the evil snake Lance so vividly remembered. “You know, I always knew you for a fag boy, Lance, even when you were six.”

  Lance flinched involuntarily at that word, but remained composed and impassive.

  “I used to watch you at the playground with other children,” Richard went on like he was revealing national secrets. “You ignored girls even then. But the boys, oh, how you liked them. Tried to hold their hands, even kiss some of ’em. That’s how I knew. That’s why I came to your bed, so you would love only me and not them.”

  Lance almost gagged with disgust, and couldn’t decide if he should feel pity or just laugh. “Love you?”

  Richard nodded solemnly, his face looking almost desperate with longing. “Of course, didn’t you know? I’ve been in love with you from the start.”

  In the adjoining room, Ryan blew out a breath of disgust. “This is bullshit! I’m getting him outta there.”

  Again, without taking his eyes from his son, Arthur once more stayed his friend’s move to the door. “Not yet.”

  In the interrogation room, Lance stared aghast at Richard, truly seeing this man for the first time, and realizing just how pathetic he was. “You’re a sick little fuck, Richard,” he murmured with a shake of his head. “Now I know for sure I can forgive you
, cuz you’re not worth my time or energy to hate.”

  Richard smirked evilly again. “So, Lance, you and your little boyfriend screwing yet?” Lance flinched, but didn’t respond. “Cuz I can tell you from personal experience that boy has a great ass and a helluva mouth.”

  A momentary rage swept over Lance. He hauled off and slugged Richard hard to the face, knocking the grinning man to the floor in a heap of flailing orange.

  As Ricky blushed furiously with embarrassment, Jenny gasped, and Ryan pulled open the door to enter the hall. “That’s enough.”

  Arthur grabbed him again and forced their eyes to meet. “Trust me, James. Let him finish.”

  Ryan reluctantly left the door open and turned back to the glass as Thornton used the table to haul himself to his feet.

  Lance stood calmly as Richard rose, blood trickling from a cut to his mouth, no longer grinning, but looking surprised.

  “Don’t you ever talk about Ricky, you asshole,” Lance hissed, his voice steady, his anger under control. “You’re not worthy to say his name.”

  Richard lifted his hands and wiped the blood from his lips, gazing at his red-stained fingertips in wonder, as though he couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Lance eyed the pathetic, perverted rapist with disgust, and annoyance. “You don’t know shit about who’s after me, Richard. You just brought me here to try and scare me.”

  Richard shook his head. “No, I want you to love me, Lance, the way I always loved you.” His voice reeked of desperation.

  Lance shook his head in amazement at this sick, twisted little man who had for so long been his childhood boogeyman. “I’m leaving now, and I’ll never think of you again.” He turned and stepped toward the closed door.

  As he reached for the knob, he heard Richard say, “You should thank me, Lance.”

  Lance whirled around, not in fury, but in astonishment. “Thank you?”

  Richard’s sly, coy smile crept back onto his face. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be who you are today. I did you a favor.”

  Lance gaped at the man a moment before shaking his head again. “Good-bye, Richard.”

  As he stepped out into the hall, Lance heard, “Will you write to me, Lance?” And then he closed the door forever on the man, on his past, on his greatest childhood fear. And I thought I could turn into that, he said to himself. Then Arthur stood before him in the hall, the others spilling out of the room behind him.

  Father and son locked eyes. “It’s over now, isn’t it, son?”

  Lance smiled, his heart and soul free and clear. “Yeah, Dad, it’s over.” And then Arthur’s arms were around him and Lance felt more secure than ever.

  Arthur stepped back and Ricky took his place, his face etched with shame and embarrassment. Lance reached for him and pulled him in.

  “Lance,” Ricky began falteringly, “about what he said, about me––”

  Lance’s lips on his cut off the rest of Ricky’s words, and the kiss was thrilling and liberating, desperate with love, in a way none of their previous ones had ever been. Lance pulled back, oblivious to the group of people surrounding him. He had eyes only for Ricky.

  “He’s nothing, Ricky,” Lance whispered breathlessly, his heart hammering from that brief touch of their lips. “You’re everything.”

  Ricky’s body seemed to sag with relief and Lance threw his arms around the other boy, pulling him in tightly and hanging on.

  After a moment, Lance felt Ryan’s surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, godson, let’s get outta here.”

  Lance pulled back from Ricky and grinned. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

  By order of the Secret Service, each driver took a different route so as to not draw attention to a group of cars convoying through the city. Lance and Ricky were in one car with two agents, while the others were spread out in several identical vehicles.

  At an intersection in Downtown L.A., just as Lance’s driver was about to start forward on a green light, another car whipped around on their right to pull out in front, causing Lance’s driver to hit the breaks. At that moment an enormous city trash truck blew through the opposite red light, slammed into the car that had cut off theirs, and sent it spinning into oncoming traffic. It was struck by several others cars, and the trash truck passed right through the intersection to continue on out of sight.

  Stunned into shocked silence, Lance and Ricky stared openmouthed at each other. They clearly recalled the first threat they’d gotten, the one that had mentioned a trash truck.

  “My God, Ricky,” Lance whispered. “That driver just saved our lives!”

  Speechless, Ricky could only nod as the second Secret Service agent calmly used his phone to call 911. Then he called his superiors to report the incident as the driver navigated their car through the chaos of the intersection and continued on their way. Lance and Ricky sat in stunned silence for the rest of the journey.

  How had their stalker even known where they’d be? The meeting with Richard had been top secret––even the media hadn’t been informed. The Secret Service, Lance knew, now regularly swept New Camelot for bugs, so it couldn’t be that. Which meant, Lance concluded, something even more sinister. Someone within the Round Table must be a spy. There was a real enemy among them. The thought nearly took his breath away, but he didn’t articulate this realization to Ricky because he didn’t want the agents to hear. He needed to talk with Arthur first. But the thought of a fellow knight betraying them filled him with dread almost worse than Richard ever had.

  †††

  Once everyone was back safely within the guarded walls of New Camelot, the two agents who’d accompanied Lance and Ricky informed Ryan, Gibson and Arthur about the trash truck incident. They all understood at once that it wasn’t accidental, and had it not been for the other driver who was in such a hurry, both Lance and Ricky could be dead, or in critical condition as that careless driver was now.

  When they were all gathered in the Throne Room, after the agents had left to send a report to their superiors, Lance told everyone his suspicions.

  “A spy?” Ricky said, aghast. “No way.”

  “It’s the only answer,” Lance said, his voice breathy and anxious.

  Reyna exchanged an appalled look with Esteban, but Arthur stroked his beard thoughtfully as he strode up the platform steps and settled into his throne, his brown eyes squinting. Jenny followed silently to sit beside him. Arthur looked out at Lance standing before him, Ricky at his side, Kai and Dakota, as always, flanking them.

  “I believe Lance is correct,” he finally said, his usually sonorous voice quiet and soft. “We did inform everyone at the gathering on Saturday of Lance’s meeting with Richard.”

  Now Reyna piped up, her face alight with a revelation. “Yeah, but Lance only found out yesterday that the meeting was today.”

  “That’s true,” Ryan added, “because that's when I found out.”

  Arthur looked to his sons and the others. “How many knights would you estimate remained behind after school yesterday to work on the computers?”

  Lance cast his mind back to when Ryan entered the Computer Lab to tell him about today’s meeting with Richard. “Maybe fifty?” He glanced at Ricky for confirmation, and the other boy nodded.

  Arthur soberly eyed Jenny. Her hand reached out and took his, and she offered a small smile of encouragement.

  “Fifty,” the king said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose we know which fifty?”

  Lance shrugged.

  “Techie might,” Esteban suggested. “He might be able to figure it out from who logged in.”

  “Ask him, if you would, Sir Este. And tell him I wish a new system instituted within the lab. Everyone entering and leaving must sign in and out. Let him know the Secret Service demands such a record. Perhaps we shall note a pattern of behavior that will narrow down our suspects.”

  “You got it, Arthur,” Esteban said with a nod.

  “Sir Dakota and Sir Kai,” Arthur
said, his voice in command mode, “continue your vigilant watch over Lance and Ricky. Be cautious with whom they interact.”

  “Yes, Arthur,” both young men answered at once, no longer embarrassed that they spoke at the same time.

  “Henceforth,” Arthur went on, “only those in our immediate leadership team shall be privy to all our plans and information. At the gatherings we shall only disseminate that which pertains to city projects and the general role of everyone in selling the CBOR. Is that acceptable to you all?”

  Everyone solemnly agreed. It would feel strange, Lance knew, to keep secrets from his fellow knights, but their numbers were now so large and so many came and went daily and weekly, that the traitor could be almost anyone.

  And thus impossible to find.

  Merlin, Lance suddenly thought. Yes, he’d ask the old wizard for advice. Perhaps Merlin had “seen” something that could help.

  After Arthur adjourned the meeting, he asked Lance only to remain a moment. Lance told Ricky, Kai and Dakota to wait for him in the lobby, and everyone left the Throne Room.

  Lance looked expectant as Arthur rose from his throne and stepped down off the stage, Jenny by his side. The king eyed Lance with deep admiration and love.

  “You handled today better than I ever could have, son, were I in your place.”

  Lance felt himself redden. Would he ever be able to accept praise from this man without feeling embarrassed? “Thanks, Dad.” Then he turned to Jenny apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mom, for hitting him. I know how you feel––”

  Her hands on his shoulders cut him off. “You hit him less times than I would’ve,” she said with a grin, drawing a huge smile to his face. Then she pulled him in and held him. “I love you, Lance.”