Keeping Secrets

Author’s note: if this is your first time reading a story of mine, this one is going to be confusing. It plays off other stories, mainly Chapters One and Two of The Boy Who Could Fly.

Jonathan pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and parked in the lot away from the others, not wanting to get dings in his car. The 1970 Camaro Z/28 had been a graduation present from his father when he finished at West Point and he cherished the car, so much, he had continued to put off buying another for the last nine years. It had sat in storage for five years, while he served in the Army. There were two tours, followed by a move into intelligence, just as his father had done. To all his friends and acquaintances, he was a software engineer, but he really was an analyst of data collected in the field.

He climbed out of the dark blue Camaro, seeing the looks from two guys in a pickup. He suppressed the urge to laugh, as he strolled to the entry. A cart pulled from the line, he headed toward produce, circling around display fixtures and along the two walls, picking vegetables and fruits. Then he wove up and down aisles till on the far side, bypassing those with temptations he knew to avoid. He moved down the first aisle of coolers, the glass doors revealing the beer selections within. Ambling along the cases wondering what the selection would be this trip, he spotted an old favorite that was hard to find. Bourbon County Stout, in its dark bottles, and he smiled as he pulled it from the cooler. The door was almost closed when a hand grabbed it and pulled it open.

“They have gotten it in; great,” came a voice to Jonathan’s side. Turning he saw a tall, muscular guy with very light brown hair, almost blonde and fair white skin.

“Let me get out of your way,” said Jonathan as he moved to the side.

“Oh, you’re not in my way,” the man replied, smiling back. Jonathan turned to head on when the guy spoke to him again.

“Do you find this is best with some rare steak?”

“Yes, or sometimes with a fried fish…something a bit bad for you,” Jonathan replied, grinning about his reply.

“Yes, yes.”

“Well, have a nice day,” said Jonathan as he pushed his cart away. He glanced back, seeing the man looking his way, who smiled and nodded his head once. Jonathan found the guy attractive, although he looked a little young, and after his disastrous relationship with Shawn, he had sworn, the next boyfriend would be closer to his own age or maybe even older. But down the last three aisle, he considered the man he crossed paths with, wondering who he was, what job he possessed in Arlington, knowing far too many were in government in some capacity, much as he himself was.

Back at his small home in Manassas Park, he pulled past his little two-story home to the garage in back. Jonathan carried his groceries inside, put everything away and took the mail to the living room, where he laid back on the sofa to flip through everything. His cell phone rang, and he saw it was Jason, and he hit ‘accept’ then the speaker.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“Are you home?”

“Yep; just got in a few minutes ago.”

“So, you’ve not had dinner?”

“Nope. Your boyfriend out of town again?”

“Yes. He had to fly to California this morning and won’t be back till tomorrow night. Will you go with me to dinner? My treat.”

“Sure. I just want to shower and change. What do you feel like?”

“Mexican. You good with that?”

“That works for me. I’ve not been out all week, so anything is fine, really.”

“The dive out on Centerville?”

“Of course; there’s nowhere better.”

“Give me twenty minutes then head out and we should arrive about the same time.”’

“See you there.”

Jonathan pulled back into his drive at eleven o’clock, much later than he had hoped, but knew dinner with Jason would lead to a couple of drinks at Pierre’s. Camaro pulled into the garage and door lowering, he went out the side door and into his house, ready to call it a night. A quick shower and he was snuggled in bed, thinking how he was alone again. It’d been four months since he broke up with Shawn and he hadn’t bothered to ask anyone out in three weeks. Work had been hectic, some days not getting home till ten or eleven at night, and then there was the frustration from the dates he had gone on. Some just wanting to notch the bed posts, others so different than first let on, that he quickly lost interest. Maybe at thirty-three, he was beginning to get cantankerous and picky. At least that was what Jason, Garcia and Rick told him.

Sunday was a bright, sunny day and Jonathan spent it mowing grass, weeding flower beds, and cleaning up the patio area. He stood at the garage door looking into it, wondering if he should tackle doing a thorough cleaning. It was tidy, not piled up like every neighbor around him. Instead his Camaro sat in its bay free of junk threatening to fall on it. In the other bay was his mower, an old Triumph motorcycle he had torn apart and his bicycle. Glancing up at the clear sky, he smiled. ‘Time for a bike ride’ he told himself and went inside to change into shorts and put on his bike shoes.

Come Monday and back at the office, the week began as it ended. Phone calls all morning, a meeting in the afternoon that lasted over two hours then the rest of the day pouring over reports. It was nearly ten when he shut off his lamp and left to go home.

Tuesday started the same, but he begged off from having to attend two meetings, reminding the managers of his deadlines. He had to analyze the reports that came in the end of last week, so he spent most of the day getting his work completed. Wednesday found him finally getting caught up, two reports sent out before ten that morning, and one more due, he would easily finish that afternoon. At lunch, he decided a break from the office was in order. He slipped out, not telling anyone where he was going, wanting to have time alone.

Jessica’s Garden was a vegetarian restaurant over in McLean, a place most of his co-workers would not go. He carried his latest novel in, marked about halfway in as it had been for over a week. He sat at a small two-top along the side wall near the back. He ordered, then relaxed with his book while he waited.

When his food was brought out, he set his book to the side and sat back. He thanked the waiter and picked up his fork. It was then, he noticed two tables over, out in the middle of the dining area, sat the guy he had seen at the grocery store last Friday. Dressed casually, a thin linen shirt almost transparent and dark jeans, Jonathan found himself looking at the attractive guy, measuring him up once again. He remembered how the guy was a few inches taller and even now, seated, he could tell there was a nice muscular body within those clothes. He began to eat, glancing up often to take one more look, to let his eyes linger over some feature, like the shape of his jaw, or the ear, or how his hair was tousled just right.

Setting his fork down and pushing the plate back, Jonathan drank the last of his green tea and glanced at his watch. He was going to be late getting back if he didn’t hurry, so with a slight wave toward the waiter, he called for his check.

As he left the restaurant, he deliberately walked past the table where his mystery man sat. As he drew near, the guy looked up, smiled, giving him a slight nod. A simple gesture of acknowledgment that he returned, suddenly tongue tied, unable to speak. Out on the sidewalk, he laughed at his silly response, that of some schoolgirl with a crush, unable to talk when the need arose. He crossed the street to his car, climbing in. It rumbled to life then settled to a smooth idle while he buckled up. Pulling out, he saw the guy exit the restaurant, giving him a friendly wave.

The next weekend arrived with beautiful weather that would not last till Sunday. Jonathan stuffed his novel, wallet, and keys into his backpack, climbed on his bike and headed to the park. The six-mile ride would be enough to get a little exercise, then he would lay out in some grassy area and read, just to enjoy the outdoors. He walked his bike out to an area away from everyone; an area that afforded him a view of those circling around the park, on foot or bicycle. He sat on the ground just people watching for a long time, especially the guys. The two guys walking dogs, or the muscular one jogging in nothing but running shorts, or those just walking around in t-shirts, tank tops, or shirtless. He felt a desire for someone build until growing frustrated with just watching. Sliding the backpack over, he pulled out the novel, lay back on his side, using his shadow to shield the book and began to read.

He flipped through page after page until two chapters were finished and his stomach growling. Sitting up he looked around, seeing different people around him. A couple on a blanket having a picnic, two guys throwing a frisbee, and sitting on a bench under the shade of a maple tree, the guy he had seen twice in the last week. Shirt draped over the back of the bench; the guy’s muscular upper body was exposed to his lingering stare. Skin too smooth to be real, and so white it was obvious why the guy avoided sitting in the sun.

It seemed to be fate, with the guy looking up just at that moment. Jonathan chuckled and saw him do the same, then stand up and head his way, shirt dangling from one hand. The closer he drew to Jonathan; the more detail could be seen. The strong pecs, each dime size nipple riding high on them, the recess of the navel and the line of muscular structure that disappeared down in the cargo shorts.

“Hey,” said Jonathan when the guy was close enough to cast a shadow over him.

“Hey…I think we’ve been crossing paths a lot and I think introductions are in order. I’m Andrew.”

“Andrew, I’m Jonathan. Would you like to sit?”

“Sure,” Andrew replied, easing down next to him.

They talked of simple things, the jobs each held, Jonathan at a firm doing software and Andrew owning a small used bookstore specializing in non-fiction, especially history. Then they talked of childhoods and a synopsis of their lives that brought them to the Arlington area. Jonathan growing up in a military family, his father having a career in the Army, and how he had followed in his steps for a few years. Andrew talked of growing up in Missouri, in Cameron, north of Kansas City, and going to college at Washington in St. Louis.

“Can I ask, how you came to own a bookstore instead of teaching or doing research like a lot of graduates might do?” asked Jonathan.

Andrew leaned back on elbows and looked out across the park. When he replied, his voice was lower, softer. “I was a year from graduation when my parents got killed in a car wreck. I dropped out for a semester. Partly to morn, and partly to get my life back on track. Some of the other family begged me not to do it, but I sold the house that had been home all my life and finished my degree. Then I moved here and bought a small building and set up shop. I’ve been here three months and…” he stammered to a stop.

“I’m sorry about you losing your parents. That had to be tough. How’s the bookstore doing?”

“For two months, it sucked. I thought I had made a huge mistake. But I had created an online page, and the last month has been good. Surprisingly good.”

“No regrets then.”

“No, no regrets. So, you mentioned software, but didn’t say where. What company do you work for?”

Jonathan smiled, finding himself hesitant to lie as he always had to do, even to his friends. No one knew the firm he always referred wasn’t real, that no private consultation company existed, but that he was at the CIA doing analysis of surveillance data. A job the Army had trained him to do. “I’m with a small consulting firm. KMB Consulting.”

“Sounds boring,” Andrew replied sitting up, wrapping his arms around raised knees.

“Oh, it is most of the time,” Jonathan lied, never able to tell of the excitement he felt deciphering the data that passed over his desk.

“Now that we know each other, how about I buy you dinner? You free tonight?” asked Andrew.

“Yes, I am. Dinner would be nice.”

Pulling out his cell phone and handing it to Jonathan, “give me your number and address. I’ll pick you up at seven, if that works.”

“Seven works,” Jonathan replied, taking Andrew’s cell phone. He typed his contact information into it and handed it back.

“Well, I have some errands to run, so I need to go, but I’ll see you at seven,” said Andrew climbing to his feet.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Jonathan came into his house, unable to control his smiling to the point of nearly laughing aloud. The date with Andrew had been perfect. Not once had Andrew said or done something that hit a pet peeve. Not one insensitive statement, or off-the-cuff remark that spoke to some opinion Jonathan would find abhorrent. Their first date had been perfect. It was after one in the morning and he still didn’t feel tired, too ramped up about having a nice time. There had been dinner, then an hour at the small bar in the restaurant. Finally agreeing to go elsewhere, Andrew led him out to his 1970 Dodge Charger in a bright green no modern car could wear. It shined in the lights along the street, and once started, rumbled to life with even more of a rebellious sound than his Camaro. More than once, he wondered where Andrew had been hiding all his life. Cars, novels, movies, and music were discussed, making comparisons, agreeing far too often to seem real.

They had gone to a small bar in Columbia Heights, where they sat in the back deep in conversations about some of the most mundane, but most important things in life. They had gotten there a little after eleven and it was nearly one when they left, Andrew bringing him back home. More than once, Jonathan wanted to ask Andrew to come in, to stay the night, but Andrew had mentioned doing inventory the next morning prior to opening, and he knew it would be best to wait. To savor the feel of this first date. To go into a second date wanting more. A second date to occur the next evening after Andrew closed shop at five. This time, he would be responsible for their dining experience, one that wouldn’t entail a small quaint restaurant, but an evening at his home, with him doing the cooking.

Sitting on the sofa, two empty beer bottles on the coffee table and one, half consumed, in each of their hands, Jonathan and Andrew sat opposite of each other. As they talked there were the occasional grins, the knowing looks, the teasing gestures or comments, that both knew would lead to them going further on this date. Andrew made the first move, sliding next to Jonathan, hand on one thigh as he leaned over and kissed him. There were more kisses while hands roamed over bodies. Soon shirts were tossed on the floor and like a trail of breadcrumbs through a wicked forest: shoes, socks, belts, pants, and underwear led to Jonathan’s bedroom where Andrew lay back letting Jonathan explore his body. Fingers grazed over skin, feeling the curves and shapes created by firm muscle and strong bone. Tongue followed, touching the most sensitive areas, making Andrew cry out. They both grew rock hard, aroused to the point their cocks drooled till wet.

“Do me,” Andrew whispered as he pulled Jonathan to move over him, spreading his legs.

Jonathan slipped between the raised legs and brought them up to rest on his shoulders. He scooted closer and pushed his cock against the tight opening till he squeezed through it, slowly, gently, as Andrew shivered from the penetration. He fucked slowly, savoring the feel of every inch he pushed in then tugged out, feeling Andrew’s tightness milk his cock. Hands moved up his back, along each side, then one hand raked up his chest till fingers were pinching and twisting nipples. He shuddered with the pain of it, the way it coursed through his body making him fuck harder, faster, driving into Andrew’s depths with an urgency.

Andrew pulled Jonathan down and hugged their bodies together as they undulated with their passion. Jonathan’s hips pumped cock deeply, making him moan and cry out, begging for Jonathan to fuck harder.

Jonathan fucked till his muscles ached, then he pulled free, and stood on knees between Andrew’s legs.

“Roll over,” Jonathan exclaimed, breathlessly.

Andrew smiled, then rolled to his stomach. He reached back and spread his ass, opening himself up for him. “Do it…put it back in me. Please,” he begged as he felt hands slide up each leg and along the crevice between his cheeks. Fingers grazed his loosened hole, toyed with it, teasing him to the point of shuddering with need. “Jonathan…please,” he whispered.

Jonathan pushed inward, all the way and began to fuck. He fucked hard, driving into Andrew’s depths, with their bodies smacking together. The bed rocked in rhythm to their movement, the noise almost as loud as Andrew’s cries, as he grabbed at the bed, clinging to it desperately. Jonathan kept up his pace, thrusting cock into him until shuddering with release.

In the shower, bodies covered in suds, Jonathan faced the wall, braced on his arms as Andrew entered him. He felt the thick cock stretch him open, then push into his depths. It seemed impossible, the fullness he felt as hands took his waist, holding him steady as Andrew began to move inside him. His own cock flopped heavily between his thighs as Andrew fucked him. He heard the heavy breathing, the utterances exhaled while feeling the increase in pace, cock moving faster and faster till he was rocking with every shove inward. Lips touched his shoulder, then teeth nipped at the skin as Jonathan came, shuddering and jerking with his release.

Back in bed, they collapsed and drifted off to sleep, Jonathan wrapped up in Andrew’s arms. The alarm clock would wake them. Andrew threw on his clothes, kissed Jonathan goodbye and raced out to let him get ready for work.

Over the course of the next month, they went out two or three times a week. Jonathan introduced Andrew to his friends, and they began to spend time together just hanging out, with no pretense of a formal date. Evenings watching television then a long session of sex in bed. A Saturday or Sunday afternoon in the park, or riding bikes around neighborhoods, stopping at coffee shops, other bookstores or just walking them down a small business district looking in storefronts. Their lives fell into sync, Andrew staying more nights than not.

Seven months after that first date, everything seemingly perfect, Andrew moved in with Jonathan. The second bay of the garage was cleared for one more car. They had laughed at the sight of the two old muscle cars sitting under the lights.

A routine fell into place without any planning. Saturday mornings they did the yard, one mowing and the other weeding and cleaning up around the deck and garage. They went to the grocery together and spent lazy raining days reading, both on the sofa, legs intertwined.

Jonathan pulled into the drive and up to the garage. The door on his side went up and he pulled in, immediately noticing Andrew’s Charger was not in its space. He glanced at his watch again seeing it was nearly eleven, way past time for Andrew to be home. The store closed at nine and Andrew was usually never later than ten in getting home.

Garage door down, Jonathan went into the dark house and sensed something was off. A glass was on the counter next to the sink. On the dining table, he could see a small stack of mail scattered across it, as if Andrew had looked through it hastily. It wasn’t like Jonathan to become apprehensive, but he had a foreboding sense that made his heart race. He dropped his satchel on the counter and rushed to their bedroom and found it undisturbed, except for a drawer not completely closed. The drawer Andrew used for personal effects, such as wallets, spare keys, passports, etc. Pulling it open, Jonathan saw most of Andrew’s effects were gone. He looked in other drawers and noticed some clothes missing, but not all. In the closet, he stood in the middle, running his hand along Andrew’s side and knew some garments were gone. He began to panic, for the implications were becoming clear. He rushed out to his study at the front of the house and immediately knew this was a bad situation, one he had been warned about at the agency all too often. His laptop sat in the middle of his desk, the top up and he knew Andrew had tampered with it. He tried to think if he had done anything to give away his password, the sixteen-character password that wasn’t written down anywhere in the house, nor was it in his cell phone or his car. It only existed in a safe at the office, kept by his manager.

Hand shaking, he pulled out his cell phone, pulled up the number and hit ‘send’.

“Agent Coleman,” the voice answered, calm and collect, waiting for him to tell them why he was calling.

“There’s been a breach.”

“Anyone else on the premises?”

“No,” Jonathan replied, the implication clear.

“A team will be there shortly to assess the situation,” and the called ended abruptly.

Andrew sat in the back of the speed boat, rocking with it motion as it cut through the waves heading out to sea. At forty-six feet of long sleek hull, it had no trouble with the swells of the open ocean as it sped toward the full moon low on the horizon. There were two crew and they had said nothing since he climbed on board less than thirty minutes ago. How fast they were going, he wasn’t sure, but it was fast, much faster than seemed safe. Water sprayed upward from the latter third of the hull then the front with every crash through a wave.

A quick look at his watch revealed it was nearly four AM. He had been holed up for two days, waiting until a ship could be in position, his handlers not wanting to risk a plane trying to land, since he was so close to Washington. He was finally beginning to relax, now that they were in international waters.

Less than an hour after leaving the dock, they were coming up on a large cargo ship that was heading south. The ship had slowed it speed in anticipation of their arrival and was barely moving as they raced up to it. Pulling alongside of its hull, Andrew looked up at the dark silhouette that towered over them. A rope ladder was lowered, and Andrew moved to it and began to climb.

At the top, the captain was standing a few feet back as two crew helped Andrew over the rail and to his feet. They said nothing, just a slight nod from the captain and Andrew watched the crew pull up the ladder, then the three of them walked down to a door and disappeared inside. He looked up at the two cranes that towered over the deck and at the stern where a control station rose up as tall as the cranes. In Russian letters, he read the name: Fizik Lebedev. A name given to a common cargo ship, nothing of note, but also a ship that wouldn’t draw attention to itself.

He turned and looked out over the dark waters toward the west where lights made the horizon glow. He leaned on the railing, thinking of the last two years. All the preparation before, the execution of the plan that embedded him into that life, he was living up till two hours ago. He shook his head at the insanity of it, how he had lived such a life, one with another man. But there had been moments, times he felt torn. He struggled to keep his emotions in check during the last nine months, the last three months the worst.

He pulled out the flash drive, rotated it with his fingers as he contemplated what it held. The information on Senators and other government officials that would gain them favor. That would let them sway policy from time to time. Not often, but just enough. They already had assets in place, some very high up in Washington, but this was a play to the future, when the current assets lost their usefulness. He thought of the difficulty in acquiring the information the flash drive contained. The three attempts to memorize the password, the first two attempts missing one character each time.

He squeezed the flash drive in his fist as he considered the betrayal done to Jonathan. He had no regrets, no issue with spying for the mother country, but the betrayal of Jonathan knotted his stomach. How would Jonathan be treated by his superiors when they learned of his being compromised? Would he lose his job? Be forced into the private sector, and if so, would he be able to make the adjustment? Opening his hand, he wondered about the whole business. Why all the deceit and manipulation of each other was necessary. He felt so tired of it all. Looking each way and once over his back, he saw he was still alone on the deck. Looking at the flash drive, he watched it roll out of his hand and drop out of sight as it fell toward the dark waters below.

The door swung open and Andrew turned to see the old man come out. His handler for the last twelve years, since he was a skinny sixteen-year old kid whose father was part of the agency. Sergey Pavlov strolled his way and he wondered what the old man’s status was within the agency. Probably the very top, or maybe not. The old man was so cantankerous that some hated his guts.

“Andrei Chernoff, it is so good to have you back,” Sergey Pavlov spoke in their native Russian.

“Pavlov, sir, it is good to be heading home.”

“Yes, yes, and I’m sure Karina will be glad to see her husband after…how long has it been?”

“Two years.”

“That long…Karina will surely be glad to see you, and that daughter of yours? She’ll be three now, correct?”

“Yes, Pavlov. Sasha will have turned three last month.”

“They grow up so fast, so you’ll want to get home as soon as possible. Did you get the information we seek?”

“No sir, I could never get Jonathan’s password. It was nowhere to be found inside the house or in his car. I even checked his cell phone a few times.”

“And he never used it in front of you?”

“Never. He was meticulous in keeping his secrets.”

“A good man, no doubt. We knew he would be troublesome but…well, let’s get you settled for the cruise to Cuba. We have a flight ready to take you home as soon as we pull into the harbor.”

“Thanks Pavlov. I’ll come in in a minute. I just want to enjoy the night air for a minute. It has been such a…ordeal.”

“It has and your country appreciates the sacrifices you have made,” Sergey Pavlov smiled, “the living with a man for these last three months.”

“Pavlov, you tease me…please,” Andrei replied making Sergey Pavlov laugh.

“Come in when you are ready. We have some food prepared and a bunk for you to get some sleep,” Sergey Pavlov replied, then turned and left Andrei standing by the railing.

Andrei stared out over the dark waters toward the glowing horizon. He looked up at the starry sky, thinking how insignificant it all was in the big scheme of things. A mere blink in time and nothing of consequence that would affect the whole of the cosmos. Then he saw movement, something flying toward him. Within seconds he realized it was a young man, about his own age or younger, flying without the need of equipment. He froze, shocked at what he was seeing as the man hovered over the water, drawing closer and closer till only ten feet away, and right at eye level.

“Andrei Chernoff, I need you to come with me.”

“What? Who… what are you?”

“I’m Wesley. Did Sergey Pavlov have a file on me too? No?”

“What about me?” came a voice from behind Andrei and he turned to see another guy, even younger than Wesley standing behind him, only a few feet away. He calculated his moves, how he could take this boy down then make a run for it, hopefully getting inside before this Wesley could stop him. Then he saw the boy’s hands light up, arcs of white light encircling them and when brought together popping and cackling like high voltage.

“What the fuck?”

“So, Andrei Chernoff, are you going to come quietly, or not?” asked Wesley.

Andrei balled up his fist and swung, wildly, his fear of what the boy was doing throwing him off. It felt like he hit a high voltage line, the power of it blinding. It surged through his body until he began to lose consciousness. The last thing he heard, before passing out, was “Liam, that’s enough.”

Andrei stirred awake, blinking his eyes from the harsh light of the small room he found himself. He looked up and saw a mirror ran the wall opposite, from waist high to the low ceiling and he smiled, knowing someone was watching him. Maybe even Jonathan. He tried to remember how he got here; what events led to his capture. He was on the old cargo ship, had spoken to Pavlov, then…

He froze at the vague memory of a guy that appeared to be flying, then the younger one behind him. He remembered the pain, the burning pain, that shot through his body before passing out. He knew he looked panicked, an expression of fear and he lowered his head and calmed himself, brought his breathing under control. He looked back up.

“So, are you going to introduce yourself or will we just sit here?” Andrei asked aloud.

The door swung open and two men entered. One wore a black suit, the other a dark navy, and both looked textbook intelligence.

“Gentlemen; have a seat. Let’s get to know each other, shall we?” Andrei mockingly greeted them.

The black suit sat directly opposite while the dark navy suit circled the room till out of Andrei’s line of site. A folder was laid on the table, spread opened, revealing photos of Andrei, from childhood, his teenage years, the military service then shots of him at the training facility that was supposed to be top secret. Then there were photos of his wife, his daughter, some images he had never seen, and photos of Jonathan and him together. He had to admit they were good, whoever was behind the surveillance of him over the years.

“Andrei Chernoff, age 27, born on 3 September 1992 in the city of Moscow, blah, blah, blah. You had a mother and a father and ended up a spook. So, tell us Andrei Chernoff, why Jonathan Coleman?”

“Because he was the best fuck of the lot of you,” Andrei smarted off in reply.

“Yeah, we know about that too, but really, your people don’t care about you taking it up the ass, now do they? Why Jonathan?

Andrei leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and refused to say more. He wondered how long they could keep him, for sooner or later the Americans would have to let Russia know they had him. Then there would be a trade and he would eventually make it home. He just had to keep his mouth shut.

“We’re with the agency, but behind that glass are some men who are not. I think you’ve met two of them already. They tend to play by a separate rule book; if you know what I mean. As I see it, you talk to us, and we let your daddy know we have you, and maybe you get to go home one day. Or we let what’s behind the glass have you, lie to your daddy we don’t know anything about your disappearance and they…assume you went overboard.”

Andrei felt himself holding his breath, just for a second, as he contemplated what the black suit was saying, realizing he could be deemed lost at sea. But if he talked, told what he knew, it wouldn’t take long to unravel the extent of the program, one started back in the sixties in the planning stages, with hits and misses over the years. Watergate was a particularly messy affair and they were lucky to keep their part out of it. But since then, things got fucked up at times, and he could not be a part of it. Leaning back, he looked at the black suit, shaking his head.

“I don’t know anything.”

Behind the glass sat an agency guy, black suit and headphones on, listening as he recorded. Behind him was the case manager, looking tired and aggravated. To his left was Robert Grimes and Wesley. In the corner was Liam and Quinton.

“Okay, let’s us have a crack at him,” said Robert getting a nod from the case manager. “Clear your people out. They can’t see this.”

The case manager nodded to the guy recording who dialed up their guy in the room.

“Hey, they said to clear out. The other team wants a crack at him.”

Through the glass they saw the guy turn toward them and laugh, making the other one laugh too. They stood and went to the door. Through the speakers everyone could hear what the black suit said to Andrei.

“You’re fucked.”

The door closed and the two agents were gone. “Okay, Chris, come on,” the manager said as he stepped back.

“But sir, we’re…” the agent began then saw the looks and he stood to follow the manager out. Once the room was clear, Robert sat down and blew out a long breath.

“Damn, my feet are killing me. Okay, Wesley, Liam, go in there and scare the shit out of that punk.” Robert knew Andrei’s military training, his abilities at hand to hand combat, but he was no match for Liam, and Andrei would soon learn that one way or the other.

Wesley, followed by Liam, went out into the corridor to go into the interrogation room. In the corridor they saw the case manager and the man they knew to be Jonathan Coleman, looking weary and scared. Moving to the door of the interrogation room, they overheard Jonathan.

“…I don’t know if he got anything or not. My laptop was opened up and tampered with but…”

“Could he have gotten your password?”

“No…I don’t think so.”

“Okay, don’t worry. We’ve been monitoring the situation and so far, there has been nothing to indicate he got anything.”

“We’ll find out if he did,” Wesley interjected, standing behind the manager. He saw the incredulous look from Jonathan, from him to Liam.

“What are you going to do? Who are you?”

“Jonathan, let them go, they have some special training in these matters,” the case manager replied as Wesley nodded toward Jonathan then entered the room, with Liam right behind him, finding Andrei impatiently waiting.

Andrei gave it away, his fear of them as soon as they walked in. He scooted back when Liam came up to the table next to Wesley.

Jonathan was flabbergasted that there were two young guys, one that looked like a teenager, were going in to interrogate the man who had manipulated him. He had to know what was going on, despite the order to stand down. He raced passed the man in front of him who was droning on about how they were working on Andrew, or Andrei, or whatever his real name was. He rushed to the observation room, pulling the door closed and locking it. There was banging on the door and calls for him to open as he stepped back smiling at his success. He turned to see another young man standing next to an older one seated at the console.

“Jonathan Coleman, please…come, sit.”

“Who are you people?”

“I’m Quinton,” the younger man blurted out, smiling in a way that spoke to him being no professional for this intelligence business.

“Quinton!  You’ll have to excuse his exuberance. I’m Robert Grimes.”

“Robert Grimes? I’ve never heard of you. Who are you?”

“That’s not important, at the moment. The more important thing is what Andrei Chernoff has to say. Do you not agree?”

“Yes,” Jonathan replied, feeling chastised.

“Come, sit,” said Robert, rolling out the chair next to him. “Now let’s get back to what the boys are doing,” he added, adjusting the sound from the interrogation room until they could hear what was being said.

“…to us, Andrei, you really need to talk with us. Let us know what you have done,” said Wesley staring down at the silent Andrei.

Andrei sat mute, staring back.

“Very well, we’ll do it the fun way,” Wesley replied to the stare.

Andrei’s eyes grew wide for a moment, as he tried to remember the details of what happened on the ship, not believing his own memory. He struggled with the strangeness of the situation, where he was being interrogated by two young boys, one that looked like he was still in his teens.

“What is he going to do?” Jonathan asked, as they watched Wesley move one step back from the table.

“Just watch,” Quinton blurted out from behind, causing Robert to grin.

Wesley stood with arms folded over his chest, a casual pose, unassuming in every way. But as he began to rise, a few inches at first, then higher and higher until his head was only inches from the ceiling, everyone could see Andrei’s eyes widen and the realization the events on the ship had been real, he had not made it up.

“What the fuck,” Andrei uttered as he scooted back.

“Talk to us,” Wesley asked.

“Jesus Christ…” Jonathan uttered, unable to say more as he watched. Then he noticed the younger boy move closer to the table taking the spot directly in front of Andrei, as Wesley floated over to one side.

Andrei’s eyes darted from Wesley to Liam, back and forth, suddenly his fear becoming very real. But it wasn’t possible, not what he had seen this other boy do. He watched as Liam raised his hands, holding them over a foot apart as white circles of light formed around each one. It grew brighter till blinding and Andrei struggled to watch. Liam brought his hands closer together and the circles of light cracked and popped like high voltage lines shorting out. Filaments arced between the two hands, then bolted outward, to the table, the light fixture above, knocking it out, and to ever metal surface.

“Fuck,” Jonathan whispered as he had to shield his eyes, even with the reflective surface on the glass.

“Oh, he is really turning it up this time,” Quinton uttered.

Robert looked on, surprised at the intensity Liam was able to produce. He turned toward Quinton, “you knew he could build it up like this?”

“Yes. You should see…”

Robert raised a hand cutting Quinton off, then turned back to watch Liam intimidate Andrei.

“Andrei, do you want to go home? Or do you want us to dump your dead body back into the ocean?” Wesley bluffed, hovering up behind Liam as filaments arced out around his body, not one touching him. 

“No…this isn’t real…it can’t be…no…”

Liam pointed at the table and burned a line down its length. 

“Fuck,” Andrei exclaimed scooting back till he hit the wall. “Okay…okay.”

The room went dark.

The conference was in the interior of the building with no windows and an air conditioning system totally isolated from the remainder of the building. There were white noise cancelers and jamming devices around the room, for anything discussed inside was so secret very few were brought into the circle. On one side of the table were agency men, five of them, all in black suits and evidently the same barber. Folders and laptops lay in front of each one. On the other side sat Jonathan, Robert, Wesley, Quinton and Liam. It was an arrangement that had been protested, pushed back against from the highest levels, and it was Liam more than the others they had wanted out of the room. But it was Liam and Wesley who got Andrei’s confession. The targeting of Jonathan, the manipulation to get into a relationship with him, then memorizing the password, taking three attempts, and the copying of information sensitive to certain government officials. It was to be used to blackmail them or to soften them up for little favors, and Wesley spelled it out, every detail, all the way to the incredulous moment Andrei had let the flash drive drop into the ocean.

At the front of the room, a presentation of findings flashing on the screen, the manager presented everything, walking his men through each section, till he came to the interrogation room, the moment their men left it, and he stopped the presentation and faced his men.

“What you about to see stays in this room. Not one utterance outside of here, or you’ll be tried for treason. This is serious. This can not leak out. Some of you may remember that episode up in Vancouver about 4 years ago, and how it eventually was portrayed as a hoax, a prank by some airport employees. Well, it wasn’t a hoax,” the manager said as he stepped to one side and let the video play. On the screen they watched Wesley ask Andrei to talk and the men wondered if this was a joke. They whispered amongst themselves about Liam’s age and the ridiculousness of it. Then Wesley rose into the air and there were gasps and curses. When Liam stepped forward and put on his light show, then burned the line down the center of the table, the men sat stunned, unable to say more.

Jonathan was sequestered in some conference room of the agency, going over the events of the last year, as Robert and his team were taken to a nearby hotel to rest up. Liam raced in first, still excited about being on his first mission, and seeing Wesley and Quinton again. It had been a few months since he last saw them, the two coming to his high school graduation after much begging on his part. Robert strolled in followed by Quinton, then Wesley. They moved through the lobby, past the front desk and to a bank of elevators. They had their entry cards, all arrangements handled beforehand. Up on the floor just below the penthouse level, they went to their rooms.

Robert dropped his bags on the floor, and went straight to the bar, pouring a whiskey, two full fingers, and downed it. He poured another and went to the window, pulling back the curtain, and looked out over the view of the suburban sprawl that surrounded the hotel, the banality of it all, as he replayed the events of the last twenty-four hours.

He would finish the second drink, order room service, take a hot shower and get in bed as fast as he could. He was too old for these long hours and jetting around. He had threatened to retire again, more than once, but it was Liam that stopped him from doing so. He wasn’t like Wesley, able to calm himself. Instead, there had been moments of panic, or a depression at not being normal. Tossing back the last swallow, he went to the phone on the nightstand and called room service.

Liam went to his room, slipped inside where he found William asleep on the bed. He slipped off his shirt, removed his pants and eased down next to him, snuggling up close. William stirred in his sleep then settled back down, as Liam held the most important person in his life; the boy who conquered his own fears to confess his love toward him.

They had been at rival high schools, enemies on the football field or the basketball court or the baseball diamond. But in the city, going to movies and restaurants, or just hanging out, they became friends, introduced by mutual friends. They hung out on weekends, then took trips backpacking in the nearby mountains. By their senior year they were inseparable, two buddies who did everything together. William knew Liam was gay, open to everyone about it, but he claimed he was straight, and kept Liam pushed away whenever more tried to surface between them. He had thought he could handle just being friends, but when graduation loomed ahead of them and there was a chance Liam and he would be parted, he had reacted to this fear of losing him.

The past summer had been a whirlwind romance, William coming to terms with his feelings toward Liam. As the summer progressed, Liam pulled strings, elicited Robert’s help and got William enrolled at Duke, where he would be going to do medical and biological research, the studies Wesley had been doing before having to leave. It was beyond reason that Liam was able to get William into Duke, for his grades were nowhere good enough. It required explanation. And on a late July night, with thunderstorms rumbling around them and rains falling heavily, Liam told William everything, despite promising not to do it.

There were a lot of things Liam had doubts, at times lacking confidence or anxious about where his life was heading, but about William, the quiet, soft spoken boy that had teased and tempted his heart for two years before allowing their friendship to become much more, he had no doubts. He remembered how Robert took the news, yelling and cursing, then suddenly, head shaking, laughed. Loudly, without control, then there was the long talk about Wesley, details Liam had not known. Robert wondered aloud about them being gay, and if there was something about it that fostered the mutation that gave them their abilities. It was crazy to think of it and Robert had repeated a phrase spoken often when the topic came up.

He was no scientist, so what the fuck did he know.

It had taken some quick thinking and begging, but he had gotten Robert to agree to bringing William along, much like he allowed Quinton. There had been a push back, of course, but ultimately Robert gave in, too rushed to get everyone to Washington, and allowed William to fly up with them where he had been holed up in the hotel since.

“You’re finally back. What took you so long?” William uttered in a drowsy voice.

“There were meetings, and more meetings and…and all this boring stuff really.”

“So, why did they need you and the others?”

“We were there to just push things along, but don’t worry about it. We’re to go back in two days.”

“Not tomorrow?”

“We have tomorrow to recover and just hang out. We might be called back for some help before leaving.”

William rolled over and took Liam by the chin, gently, fingers barely touching the skin, as he leaned up and kissed him. Liam let the soft lips touch his own, then he pushed back, passionately, with desire for much more. Liam moved on top of him, pushing down on his briefs to get them down his legs. Finally, free of them, hanging from his left foot, he lay against William feeling their naked bodies press together. He grew more aroused, cock becoming hard as rock, as he pumped it against William. He moved down, slipping his hands behind William’s knees. Lifting, then pushing forward, he folded William beneath him until his cock pressed against the tight opening.

It was all familiar, the way each moved, the small things that increased their arousal, made them cry out. Liam pushed into William, slowly, stretching him open then easing every inch inside him. He felt the heat envelop his cock and he shivered with the feel of it. William’s hands rubbed up his back till one held his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Lips grazing his own, William whispered, “I love you,” and it spurned Liam to move, to work his hips, slowly at first, but gradually getting faster and faster.

He fucked William, hips smacking against ass, until he felt on fire. His skin was hot, wet and every muscle burned with his exertion as he thrust into William’s depths. Hands continued to touch him, move over his feverish skin, caressing its wet surface, pinching nipples and digging into flexing muscle as he moved inside of him. William cried out, shuddered beneath him and he felt the hot cum splatter his chest and stomach, then its unique scent filled his nose.

“Fuck me…keep fucking me,” William uttered as he shuddered and jerked beneath him.

Liam fucked as hard as he could until he too was shuddering with release, filling William with his load.

Spent, but still aroused, Liam led William to the bathroom. They moved under the warm spray of the shower and began to bathe each other, running soapy hands over the other. Cocks that never went completely flaccid, grew erect again, Williams angled upward, the head flared wide and Liam’s pointed straight out, ramrod straight. Liam turned to the wall and spread his ass for William.

“Do me,” Liam begged.

Liam felt William touch him, rub against his tightness then squeeze through it, penetrating him with inch after inch of cock. He rest his forehead against the wall, eyes closed and savored the feel of the penetration, every inch, as William pushed into his depths. As suds cascaded down their bodies, William began to fuck. Hips pushed against Liam’s ass, over and over, till their pace increased, grew physical, every push inward roughly rocking Liam forward. His own cock bobbed up and down and he took it in hand, stroking to William’s pace. It aroused him to the point he didn’t know if he could take it. Hands tightened on his waist and William fell out of rhythm and Liam knew he was close, real close, and he stroked his own cock harder, faster, feeling his climax near.

“Fuck,” William uttered as he shuddered with release against his back, and he came to, painting the tile with his cum.

In the next room, where clothes lay scattered across the floor, the bed already pulled apart, with the blanket slid off the foot to the floor, Wesley lay on his back, legs wrapped around Quinton’s waist, taking every push into his depths. They had raced into the room and tore at each other’s clothes. Recklessly, without caution, they had stripped each other and fell onto the bed. Wesley had held Quinton down, entering him from behind. It never failed to surprise him, how, after four years, their sex was still so physical, so rambunctious, that they routinely fucked to total exhaustion. And never more so than after doing something that excited them. Learning to stand up on a surf board, hiking up into the mountains, at times the trail dangerous, a narrow ledge on some cliff face, or the weekends in Acapulco with Preston, Brody and Preston’s grandfather, and the secrecy that surrounded them. But all those past times were nothing compared having another mission. The thrill and anticipation, then the nervousness during the mission itself. It made Quinton more so than Wesley, want sex, and want it to be physical.

Wesley held himself up on hands as he piston his cock inside of Quinton. He pulled upward till nearly free, then slammed back inward, over and over, while Quinton begged him to do it harder. He fucked till exhausted, sweat pouring down his chest and back, and raining down on Quinton. He fucked till his lean muscular body tensed tight revealing every muscle, how they formed his body, gave shape to it. He fucked till his cock grew thicker, longer and he was shuddering with release, ejaculating with every thrust inward.

The next night, sitting around a table in a small tavern, empty bottles and glasses scattered over it, their plates long sense removed, Robert and Jonathan sat watching the boys play billiards a few feet away. Jonathan still looked at them with disbelief, unable to wrap his head around everything that had occurred the last few days. He glanced over at Robert, leaned back, relaxed, and wondered how he did it. Then he wondered again who this man was that seemed to operate outside the agency, answering to no one within it.

“Who are you working with? Which agency?”

“Honestly?” asked Robert. “I’m not sure. It’s way above my pay grade.”

“And above mine too. The way everyone at the agency deferred to you. Thanks, by the way, on helping me. I just knew I was going to be reassigned to Alaska or Guam.”

Robert laughed, holding up his empty glass toward their waitress. “It wouldn’t have accomplished anything other to punish you for being a victim. It could have happened to anyone.”

“I have to ask, although I’ve been told not to ask any questions.”

“Yes?”

“How old is Liam? I mean, he looks like a kid.”

Robert laughed, shaking his head. “They’re all just kids to me. Liam is eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” Jonathan repeated, unable to believe it.

“Yeah, it’s crazy, but that gift of his doesn’t time itself to show up when he is older. Same with Wesley. Wesley just turned twenty-three. Fuck, here I am, a fifty-eight-year old man who should be playing sheriff in a small town, living an easy life, chasing teenagers out of cow pastures.”

“Yeah, right, as if,” Jonathan scoffed.

Robert laughed, then reached into his pocket, bringing out a small stainless-steel business card holder, slipping one out. He held it out to Jonathan, who took it and looked at one side seeing it blank, then flipped it over.

RG

Below the letters a telephone number, an area code unknown to Jonathan.

“What’s this?”

“My card. After you get settled down, get your feet back under you, I hope you will call me.”

“Why would I call you?”

“I’ve looked at your file…”

“Of course, you have.”

“…and you’re good. The analysis of raw data, the ability to read through the clutter and bullshit. I could use you. As support and…” Robert leaned up, closing the distance between them, lowering his voice, “in the field.”

“What?”

“Think about it.”

“I know nothing about you or your group.”

“You know more than most and you do know the group,” Robert replied, nodding his head toward the boys.

“They are your whole team? You’re kidding me.”

“No, not at all. We do have a fixer, someone who is technically retired, but none better, and I have contacts in high places.”

“That, I’m sure of.”

“Think about it. You know the agency is going to bury you in an office, keeping you out of sight. I don’t think that is what you want.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” Jonathan replied, sounding as if that would be the last thing he was going to do. “But there is one thing; I’ve never seen anything on you guys, except for that Vancouver thing four years ago.”

“We’re not really active. We’re called in when the situation needs something a bit different.”

“Like snatching a guy off a Russian cargo ship in international waters?”

“Something like that.”

“So, why try to recruit me?”

“We are expecting calls about more boys.”

“Seriously? More that can fly or…do you know what is causing it?”

“No, but we’ve got some idea on how to handle it and what to watch for when a young kid hitting puberty finds themselves doing something special.”

“Kind of like the…”

“Don’t say it.”

Jonathan laughed, making Robert do the same.

“Well, it is time to call it a night. I need to get these boys to the hotel for we’re flying out early in the morning.”

“I need to go too. They want me in early to continue interviewing Andrei.”

“Good luck with the case and do think about my offer. You can live here, stay in your home, or we can move you somewhere else, maybe some place you’ve dreamed of living. We don’t operate out of an office, everyone living where they want, or need to, and…”

“Okay, Robert, I get it.”

“I’ll await your call,” said Robert has he held out his hand to shake with Jonathan.

Liam came into the dorm room shared with William, dropped his backpack on the floor and stumbled into the bathroom. He was exhausted, having been in the lab since two the previous afternoon. It was nearly four AM, and he had a class at nine. Desperate for some sleep, he washed his face, brushed his teeth then went back to the room, easing down next to William, causing him to stir. As Liam settled down, an arm wrapped around him, pulling them close. It always comforted Liam; the way William needed some contact between them while he slept. He felt the lean body snuggle up against his own, the warmth of it and the bed. His eyes grew heavy as he began to drift off for much needed sleep.

Liam’s cell phone rang, as it vibrated across the nightstand. Fumbling with his hand without looking, he felt around for it until his fingers touched the vibrating thing. He picked it up and looked at the screen, which caused him to sit up abruptly, suddenly awake.

“Robert?”

“Get dressed and packed. Someone will be there in ten minutes to pick you up.”

“Okay, and Robert?”

“Yes?” Robert replied, sounded exasperated at what he knew Liam was going to ask.

“William comes too.”

“No, there is no need to…”

“He’s coming too,” Liam replied, his tone stern, not giving in.

Liam heard the heavy exhale, “fine, but both of you better be ready when he gets there,” Robert replied, ending the call before Liam could say ‘thank you’.

William was sitting up behind him, looking excited. “You have another mission? I’m coming too?”

“Yes, and yes. Now get dressed and packed. Your duffel bag still has the emergency packs in it?”

“Yes.”

“Good, let’s get ready.”

Ten minutes later, Liam dropped his duffel bag on the floor next to William’s near the door. He was about to go sit down when there were two sharp raps, and for a moment he wondered how they got into the dorm in the middle of the night but knew better than to question it. He swung the door open and froze.

“Oh, it’s you,” said Liam, looking at Jonathan Coleman standing at his door, dressed in a black pull over and pants.

“Let’s go.”

“Where are we heading,” Liam asked as he picked up his duffel bag.

“Robert will fill you in once we’re in the air. Let’s get a move on it.”

Jonathan drove them out of town and to the airport. He maneuvered around to the executive side and pulled up to where a familiar jet sat, the only markings its FFA registration designation on the rudder. Otherwise the black jet was unadorned, a dark form sitting on the tarmac. Jonathan parked and everyone climbed out, crossed the tarmac to the jet as they heard its engines begin to spool up.

Inside, making their way to a seat, they saw Robert sitting near the back lost in thought. He looked up as Liam began to sit.

“Liam; a word.”

“Yes, sir.”

Liam moved back to where Robert sat and eased down in the chair opposite.

“Do you remember the conversations Wesley had with you? Those in the beginning?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you’ll be having those conversations again.”

“Sir?”

“We’re on a tight deadline and Wesley is too far away to get here in time. We need you to do it.”

“There’s another boy?”

“Yes.”

“And he has a special ability?”

“It would seem so. We’re flying to Chadron, Nebraska to meet the boy and find out the situation,” Robert replied as the jet taxied to the runway. It seemed they had priority for the jet never stopped, pulling to a runway then accelerating until the front then rear wheels left the ground. They angled upward, hard, accelerating toward their maximum cruising speed.

As the jet leveled off, Liam looked from the window to Robert. “Is he gay?”

“I don’t know but Wesley seems to think there is a correlation, although the scientist we work with don’t think so. Seems to arbitrary. But we can’t afford to be making assumptions.”

“What do we know about him?”

“Thirteen-year old male, third son of a farmer just outside of town. Elijah Christensen.”

“Elijah? Sounds like he was named from the Bible.”

“Yep.”

“That could be bad.”

“Yep. Why don’t you go back up front with William and let me make some calls?”

“Yes, sir.”

Liam started toward the front when he realized the one question he forgot to ask. He turned back to Robert who was searching contacts on his phone.

“Sir?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“The boy? What is his ability?”

Robert looked up, and grimaced. “It seems he can make a solid turn to liquid or a liquid turn to gas.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit.”

“What happened? I mean, what did he do to get on our radar?”

“He turned a bully’s bicycle into a puddle of molten metal.”

“Seriously?” Liam asked, breaking into a smile.

“It’s not funny.”

“Yeah, it kinda is,” Liam replied, making Robert smile, then laugh too.

The jet flew near top speed, the roar of the engines a white noise in the cabin. Outside the windows a slow diminishing of the darkness was visible to the east but to the west, the direction they were heading, it was still dark.