Uprising - The Suspense Thriller Part 32

Yes, I killed him. A queer's gotta do what a queer's gotta do.

He imagined the frenzy and wondered if this would be bigger than O.J., especially when they found out Oth.e.l.lo was gay. He made a vow not to hire any Johnny Cochrans or F. Lee Baileys and try to worm his way out of this. Impossible anyway, considering what Raider probably had on him.

Raider, he thought wistfully, glancing down at the pavement. He imagined another press conference and another fantasy, one without arrests and criminal investigations.

"Yes, for the first time in my life Oth.e.l.lo is in love and thisa"" plant a kiss on Raider's cheek "a"is the lucky man."

What better way for the world to find out he was gay? And after that would come alb.u.ms full of songs about what he really had the hots for and videos featuring the two of them living out their love for the world to see. And they'd do Barbara Walters, Oprah and everybody else, blowing the hinges off the closet door together.

The microphone made an earsplitting sound, vaulting him back to reality.

"What I would have given," he said aloud. He spent the rest of the morning contemplating a world where he was out and in love.

The next time he paid attention to the sound of the microphone, it was noon. The man who had been with Herman earliera"the tall thin man with a six o'clock shadowa"was speaking to a packed audience.

"Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Winston Callahan. As president of operations, I'd like to welcome you to the opening ceremonies for the Jimmy Herman Museum of American Decency."

Applause filled the grounds. The stage was lined with white men in mostly white suits, including Herman who was four seats to the left of the podium. The audience was made up of men, women and children, a hundred percent of them white. Even the television crews were white. Jasper had been right: Rasta would have never made it through. The realization that he was the only black person in sight unnerved Oth.e.l.lo. He decided to get it over with right then and there less anybody get suspicious and interrupt his plans.

He rose up and made his way toward the television cameras directly behind the audience.

Kill him now; you can do this. Raider cannot have the last laugh. You'll go to jail, but he will have failed. You'll still win; do it, don't think, don't pause, don't stop.

He reached the media island and stepped up onto their shallow platform. A red-coated guard put out an arm and tried to stop him, but Oth.e.l.lo flashed the ALL ACCESS pa.s.s hanging from his neck and the man let him go.

Winston Callahan was still speaking. "I'm not one for talking much anyway, despite what my friends and family say, so at this point, I am more than happy to turn it over to our cultural curator, Mr. Jacob McCallister. Jacob."

McCallister was a pudgy, queeny-looking man. He rose up from his seat next to Herman and approached the podium, receiving his obligatory round of applause.

Don't think, just act. Fifteen yards. Rapid-fire the whole lot of them. That way you're sure to get Herman. Last chance to back out. f.u.c.k backing out.

He reached inside the brown bag in his golf jacket and his heart and chest caved in.

The gun was still inside the plastic wrapper.

He'd never taken it out after that girl scared him in the restroom. He almost had a heart attack at the thought of bringing out a gun in a tightly-wound bag, then foolishly trying to untangle it while security jumped all over him. The most inept a.s.sa.s.sination attempt in history. He removed his hand from his jacket and glanced around. The law was everywhere. Uniformed South Carolina State Police officers were on each end of the stage, throughout the audience, and in the parking lots. The red blazers were also out in force, especially around the media island. None of them seemed to pay attention to him, except the one who'd stopped him before. He was down below, a few feet away, eyeing Oth.e.l.lo something fierce. To cover himself, Oth.e.l.lo coughed a few times and pounded his chest, then humbly retreated from the stand.

"Need water," he said, still coughing as he pa.s.sed the man.

He made his way toward the museum. He was calm on the outside, but frantic on the inside. His head was riddled with shameful thoughts at his amateurishness as the words from the stage swirled in his head.

"...no one has done more for the state of South Carolina than this man...."

To be as inconspicuous as possible, he went the long way, circ.u.mnavigating the ceremony, then finding a side entrance. Once inside the museum, he made a beeline for the staff restroom at the end of the Hall of Greats, vowing this time to lock the door behind him. When he reached it, a pack of teenage girls wearing khaki skirts and blue polo s.h.i.+rts were hovering outside the door. His eyes panned the Hall of Greats for another restroom. There was none.

He hurried back down the corridor and toward the atrium, relieved when a sign and an arrow indicated another restroom down a hallway to the right. He reached it just in time to see a father escorting his two young and boisterous sons through the door. No good.

His panic rising, he panned the hallways around him. His feet and mind moved in unison but in a blur. He simply followed their lead.

His hectic journey took him to the third floor. His prayers were answered. Just off the elevator was a restroom. He seized it. It was largea"six stalls and twice as many urinalsa"but it was empty. He double-checked the stalls for feet, found none, then locked himself in the last stall and proceeded to free the gun. When he was finished, he held it to the light and examined it, then hastily removed the safety catch and stuffed it back into the brown bag and put the brown bag back into his jacket. On the way out, he discarded the plastic wrap in the restroom's trash bin.

To get outside, he used the side entrance again, stepping back into the cool afternoon air and bracing himself for another attempt. Before take two, however, he headed back to the cement clearing in the gardens. Better to wait until Herman was standing and on his way to the podium. A bigger target for the amateur. He made it to the gardens unhara.s.sed and sat on the stone bench, tuning in to yet another speech.

"...most dearest friend for over fifty years...." a rather large man was saying. Must be Deon's buddy, Big Daddy Callahan, probably the one to introduce Herman.

Oth.e.l.lo took one last breath for courage and savored the last moments of freedom he'd ever know. He rose up. To his surprise, he felt calm and at peace with what he was about to do. Life had led him down this road and he simply had to accept the fate dealt him. He took a step toward the stage forty yards away, then heard a demanding baritone voice inches away from his right ear: "Don't try it."

He recognized the voice right away, yet didn't turn around immediately. Instead, he took a moment to catch his breath and make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Then his eyes s.h.i.+fted to the right, searching his periphery.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

"He's not worth it. I'm not worth it."

He took two small steps away from the body next to him, then gradually turned to Raider. The first thing he noticed was the blond aura, still golden, and those blue eyes, still a deep penetrating blue but deadly serious. It shocked Oth.e.l.lo that Raider's beauty was the first thing he thought of, but in the next instant, the man from Nantucket became nothing more than the enemy.

"Why am I not surprised you're here?" said Oth.e.l.lo.

"Because we know each other pretty d.a.m.ned well. And I know you well enough to know you're doing this because you're p.i.s.sed at me."

"Then you don't know squat." Oth.e.l.lo moved another step away and lodged his hand inside his jacket, a move not lost on Raider. "I'm carrying out my plan because there's nothing left for me after you cart me off to prison."

"And you don't want me to win and have the total satisfaction of stopping you and your crazy friends."

"I have no friends, except my manager. And by the way, he knows nothing about this. If you try to implicate him, I'll deny it, I swear."

"Oth.e.l.lo, I don't want to implicate anybody. I don't want anybody to die or pull out a gun or be arrested or humiliated or any G.o.dd.a.m.n thing."

"Except mea""

"Not even you," Raider said harshly.

Oth.e.l.lo eyed him mistrustfully, his hand reaching deeper inside his jacket. "The safety catch is off this thing. It's good to go."

"Listen to me, Oth.e.l.lo."

"For what? More lies?"

"Don't try doing away with Herman and I'll close this case right here and now. Unsolved. You heard me right: I'll let you go."

"Let me go?"

"Let you go," Raider repeated emphatically in a low drone. "I'm not going to ever love you or make lovea"have s.e.x with youa"ever again. We can't even be friends, but if you drop this madness, if you stick to Triangle Funds and stay clean, you're a free man."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you and me, walking out of here, together, peacefully, and n.o.body gets hurt. You go live your life and I'll keep living mine. It's the only and last deal I'll ever offer you. Take it or leave it."

"And now ladies and gentlemen," came from Big Daddy Callahan at the podium, "I give you the distinguished senator from South Carolina, Jimmy Herman."

The audience rose up for a standing ovation; Herman waddled toward the podium. Oth.e.l.lo and Raider stood frozen for a moment, locked on one another.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, good G.o.d-fearing citizens of this country," Herman said over the applause.

"What's it gonna be, Oth.e.l.lo?" Raider asked.

"You would offer me this? After what I did to you yesterday morning?"

Raider paused and looked away to the stage. Herman had just gotten the audience to sit and was saying: "My heart is just bursting seeing you all here today."

"Why, Raider, if you don't love me? Why this offer?"

"I don't love you. I never will. But I do care about you."

"Why? I'm an evil person who's thisclose to killing a man, a public servant just because he's for G.o.d, America and apple pie."

Raider wasn't sure if the public servant was Herman or himself.

"And what about the counter-bas.h.i.+ng?" Oth.e.l.lo added. "You can't let that go. This is your job."

"Underneath that anger," Raider began, "I see a man who just wants to love and be accepted. I can't give you that, but I'm sure you can meet a gay guy who can. And the counter-bash victims, as far as I'm concerned, they deserved it."

"What about busting Jasper and Deon and ACTNOW?"

"Without you, there's not much of a case against anybody. Can't you just take a good deal when you see one?"

"A good deal? The only thing I see is a man who lied to me from the moment he first met me and was willing to tell me anything to bust my a.s.s."

"Take the deal, Oth.e.l.lo. I'm not going to stand here all day, waiting."

"America needs more citizens like you all," said Herman, "dedicated to what is right about our country."

"Why, Raider?"

Raider looked away again, his lips tight, his face hardened.

"It gives me great joy to give you this building," said Herman, "this sanctuary, really...."

Then it dawned on Oth.e.l.lo.

"You don't want the world to find out that Panty-Raider Kincaidea"all-American, all-time leading scoring lacrosse legend, all-time FBI super agent studa"took it up the a.s.s. From that black f.a.g Oth.e.l.lo, of all people. Not 'cause you wanted to bust the case, but 'cause you really wanted to take it up the a.s.s. After you had the case solved. That's the only reason you want to strike a deal."

"That's horses.h.i.+t and you know it."

"Well, well. I guess the nasty little details of our night of f.u.c.king and sucking probably would come out in a trial, wouldn't they? My mind hadn't even played it out that far. Of course, you could deny it, but then again, thank goodness for polygraph. And your ex-wife and little boy spotting me in your bathrobe the morning after you sucked my d.i.c.k and I f.u.c.ked you in the a.s.s."

Raider shoved his hands in his pockets and eyed Herman. "It's either win-win or lose-lose for both of us. And believe it or not, I do care about you, although right now I could probably kick your little c.o.c.ky a.s.s for your smug little att.i.tude."

"Whoa, tough words."

"Shut up. I was formulating this proposition back in DC, before you knocked me out with your wonder drug. Before we even had...." Raider looked away to woods in the distance. "We could have avoided all this had you given me time to figure things out."

"You really don't want the world to know you had s.e.x with another man."

"I could live with it if I had to."

"Could you now?"

Silence from Raider.

"Let me get this straight, so to speak: I walk out of here without shooting anybody, and you'll let me go, live my life normally, as Oth.e.l.lo, unarrested?"

"If I ever hear of you connected with anything nefarious, I'm coming after you."

"I can still be me? Free as a bird?"

"As long as you let me and my private life and what we did remain a secret to your grave."

"...only tried to live my life by the word of G.o.d," the senator was saying.

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d needs to die." Oth.e.l.lo turned halfway towards Herman, making sure he still had a tight grip on the gun. "I met him earlier today. He thinks I'm one of his lackey custodians, so much as said it was fine by him if gay kids committed suicide. When I pretended to agree, he called me a good African-American. Translation: good n.i.g.g.e.r."

Raider inched closer to Oth.e.l.lo. "Being in ACTNOW made me more aware there's b.a.s.t.a.r.ds like him all over the place. And I was one of them when I beat the s.h.i.+t out of that kid in college. But is he worth your life, Oth.e.l.lo? Is he worth spending the rest of your days in prison? Being controlled by others?"

"I didn't think I had a choice before this so-called deal."

"I'm giving you the choice, not just for me, but for you, too. You've got to know that deep down. I've said this he's-not-worth-it stuff before, haven't I? At gay pride, remember? What do you think I was doing back then, if not trying to get you to not waste your life on that old fool?"

Oth.e.l.lo looked at Raider. This much was true. On the curb before the parade, Raider had admonished him to stop the a.s.sa.s.sination attempt. But Raider was to be trusted as much as Jimmy Herman. Oth.e.l.lo took a few steps away and said to himself as much as Raider: "All I could think about these last few months was how my life has been a sham and how people like Herman are partly responsible."

"Even if you somehow got away with this," said Raider, "then or now, you'd still be prisoner for the rest of your life, trapped by your fears that the other two Wis.e.m.e.n or someone from ACTNOW would slip up or turn on you. Is that how you want to live?"

"I wanted to live a long life loving a man like you and influencing the struggle for gay rights with all the power and resources I possess."

"If we had been lovers, truly, you think we would have been happy? Always looking over our shoulders for the law? You thinking I murdered Gus for you?"

Oth.e.l.lo eyed Raider with shock and confusion.

"I never killed him." Raider scoffed. "I just roughed him up at headquarters and told him to take a hike. He really was some G.o.d-squader and I didn't want him f.u.c.king up my case."

Oth.e.l.lo lowered his head and breathed a sigh of relief.

"But think if I really had killed Gus for you, Oth.e.l.lo. What would that have done to us as lovers?"

"But it was all a pack of lies. We were anything but lovers."

"Don't be a idiot and miss my point, Oth.e.l.lo."

"I see your point." Oth.e.l.lo s.h.i.+fted restlessly, trying to block out Herman's words echoing throughout the grounds: "...we are the keepers of the American dream...."