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First Boy by Ganymede Chapter Three. Jacob Wilderstein was waiting in the lobby when I arrived precisely at 12.30 pm. Clearly he was not happy about being kept waiting. He scowled when I stepped out of the elevator. "Terrible traffic," I said nonchalantly. "I swear it's getting worse and worse. "I'm sure," Wilderstein replied. He turned and led the way into the office. With the glazed door closed behind us, he walked to the far window and put his hands on his hips. I smiled as he stood there, his swaggering deliberate stance not unlike Napoleon without the hand inside his coat. From behind he was pitiful. Five-foot-six-inches, a mean-spirited public servant who was nearly bald. "You still see him, don't you?" he asked softly. "Who?" "The kid. You know who I'm talking about Shelley Lawlor, isn't that his name?" Wilderstein said dryly. I smiled slightly. Through the window I watched a plane climbing quickly from Reagan National Airport. It turned slowly as it passed over the far end of the Mall. Wilderstein's hand casually brushed though the remaining strands of hair at the back of his head. He turned around, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Do you?" he asked pointedly. "What does it matter, Wilderstein? You know the answer to your own question. otherwise you wouldn't ask it in the first place." Wilderstein chuckled crudely. "Do you still fuck him in the ass?" "What I do or don't do with Shelley is none of your business," I answered flatly. "But you still see him, don't you?" "Yes!" He stepped towards the desk and picked up a manila envelop. He unfastened the string by winding it counter-clockwise. He paused momentarily, pretending to ponder the contents. Slowly he lifted back the flap. I saw a vivid streak of red adhesive where the security seal had been broken. A thick wad of photographs spilled out onto the desk when he held it upside down. "I don't hold it against you. Hell, I don't even think you're sick." He surveyed me with a sideways glance. "He's a sexy little bastard. And noisy too. He obviously enjoyed it with you. It would be different if you forced him, but you didn't. Maybe it's what they call a victimless crime. A bit painful for the kid, perhaps, but that's all. Anyway after four months I guess he's used to it by now?" "Shelley does what he wants to do." "I believe you, Rick, but would a jury? I know it's voluntary for him because I've listened to the tapes. In fact, he doesn't even look like a victim in these photos, but they're more than enough for jury to return a guilty verdict, even here in DC. You'd have to have a jury full of ass-fucking niggers to get out of this one," Wilderstein said with a broad grin. "You could get ten-to-twenty years with parole sometime next century." "You're an asshole of the highest order, Wilderstein." "You're entitled to your opinion, Rick. I'm just doing my job." "What do you want?" I demanded. "I have to do this, you understand. It's not even my idea." He smiled slightly. "Hell, no one really knows what I'm doing to get you on board!" "Not even the Director?" "He doesn't know what I'm doing to get you involved. No one knows about these photos. There is a single copy, thirty-six photos, and you're looking at them. If you agree, these ones leave with you. I imagine you can put them to good use." "And the negatives?" I asked abruptly. "Ah! yes! I keep the negatives until you do the job. Then they're yours as well." "What do I have to do?" "Ah, the crux of the matter. You have to recruit and run someone. Once you're in, the whole thing will take about a month, maybe even less. After it's done, you vanish. There will be some people upset. Personally, I'd go to Europe, but I hear the boys are better down south. Brazil, Chile, even Bolivia, you could take your pick." "What's involved?" "We need first hand information, and we need it very quickly." "Tell me more." Wilderstein regarded me quietly. "There's no proof, but I think we have a big problem in the White House. A very big problem. You know what I'm talking about?" "I thought the thing was finished. Hell, nobody cares what he does. Who he screws, what powers he abuses, who dies in the process? So long as the economy is strong! Public opinion can take care of anything." "That was the opinion around here too until a week ago. The fact is it's now more that a few laws being broken. There is a small faction that thinks you might have been onto something five years ago before you took on that assignment in central America. It's possible that Russia is involved. Your memo supporting the position has been keeping a lot of people awake at night." I smiled and shrugged. My memorandum had been placed in a "BLUE-PRINT" security file. "Blue-print" files never left the Director's office. When I wrote it, my position was based on speculation, hunch, and a lot of assumptions. It was not one of the factors behind my decision to leave the Agency, yet I knew that my next assignment was the result of it. "Then you have a big problem," I said flatly. "We have to know, and within a month at the latest." "What's the outcome?" I asked. "Or maybe I should ask what's going to happen after the target exits?" "Political reality, Rick. We're working on it." "I presume the man steps down quietly and the V-P steps up,... because that's what's going to happen if I'm right, isn't it?" Wilderstein shrugged vaguely. "Whatever! I try not to get involved in the repercussions. It's not my decision. I'm running the action as far as you're concerned. Maybe you're right. If I was you, once I'd made contact in the affirmative, I'd get my ass out of Dodge as quickly as I could. It might stir the Russians up when they find out so I'd go deep if I was you, Rick. So fucking deep that no one could find me." "What's the strategy?" I asked pointedly. "You target is a very important man. For the sake of it, let's agree he's very hard to expose because he is so popular." I smiled. "Only he's a mole, all right. I'm surprised it took this long to find out." "We still not know for sure. I have a few doubts. It's possible the entire thing is reverse engineering." "Yeah, right! Before when you were involved, you questioned whether the Russians could put it together." "Think about it, Rick. If you were going to plant a mole, wouldn't you pick someone who didn't draw attention?" "Exactly! You have to think like Machiavelli. The Russians do it all the time. You pick a person who does get attention, only it's an entirely different kind of attention. Throw in a few banking and real estate scandals, a couple of whores. There's so much flak on the radar you never see the target. Sure everyone's looking, but they're all going in the opposite direction." "A confusion strategy? Very Machiavellian, even for the Russians, don't you think?" "It's perfect, Wilderstein. Everyone too busy worrying about the next harlot to crawl out from under the bed to think about deeper issues." "That was your point five years ago, wasn't it?" I shook my head. "No. My point was he spent time at Cambridge, and then went to Moscow. It's a pattern, that's all. There was ample opportunity for him to be recruited." I thought for a few seconds. It made no sense. "I still don't see why you need me." Wilderstein smiled. "He's a lot like you, Rick." "In what way?" "What turns him on is the same thing that turns you on. Small dicks and balls and no hair." "My but you're a funny son-of-a-bitch, Jacob," I replied sarcastically. "You might notice I'm not laughing. This is serious. There is a strong indication that what he really likes is his boys. If so, it's a dangerous obsession, one the Russians would use in a flash." "You mean everything else is a ruse?" "Of course. You just said so yourself. Everything more or less in the opposite direction. he gets blow jobs from his girl friends, but the real action is elsewhere. Like I said, all we've had up till now was an indication, but it was enough to look further." "Based on what?" I asked suspiciously. "It's completely out of character!" "So is what you did with that boy, what's his name,...Shelley Lawlor?" "You know it as well as I do," I replied. "I had you down as one hundred percent straight until that mess in Mexico four years ago. You managed to keep it well hidden afterwards. It was only when I started looking to find something I could use against you did I come up with the connection with Mexico again. I checked the flights. You went there too often," Wilderstein chuckled. "I had you followed by one of our people. man, it was too easy." He laughed again. "It sounds to me like Mexico is just one big chicken farm. However, I was surprised to find out that you liked dark meat. I guess it's cheaper than white meat, huh?" "Very funny." "So I kept an eye, or maybe I should say kept an ear on you when you came back to DC." "You bugged my office?" I queried. "I should have suspected something like that from you and your friends, shouldn't I?" Wilderstein shrugged. "I really don't care about your sex life, Rick. The only reason I'm dragging you into this one is because I think the target has the same interests as you. He keeps it well hidden for good reason. Joe Public can tolerate his sexual peccadillos only so long as they're relatively normal." "You're about two steps ahead of me. Why don't you fill me in on what you know," I demanded. "We have to get close to him, and I mean real close, and soon too. We have to find out how he's passing information to them. Given what we know We don't have time to waste. about him,...well a boy may be the only way. And not just any boy, the target has very particular tastes. He likes blonds with blue eyes,... boys like Shelley in fact." I shuddered. "No!" "No? I don't think you're in a position to say no, Rick. Not unless you plan on seeing Shelley again when he's in his mid twenties. You ought to get twelve to fifteen, even with parole. This way,..." "No way!" "He's perfect for job. I think you know what I mean. We both know he's not innocent." "He's not a whore either," I said adamantly. "He might have been a virgin before you met him, but he sure isn't one now, is he?" Wilderstein said flatly. "Let me think. How did it go? Oh!!! Ohhhh! Rick! Do it deeper! Ohhhh! Yes! There! Do it there, Rick! Ohhhh!" Wilderstein smirked. "It sure sounded like both of you were having fun at the time but I doubt that a jury would see it that way. No when the kid's ten years old." "Forget it, asshole," I swore. "You haven't heard my offer yet, Rick. I've gone to a lot of trouble. The least you can do is hear me out." I turned and stormed towards the door. Halfway, I stopped. "What offer?" "Two hundred thousand if you take the job and bring home the bacon so to speak." "Bacon? Coming from you? Get real. Two hundred thousand! A million at least, if I have to disappear,... and up front!" "The Director has approved up to five hundred. That's it!" "I'm freelance now. Five isn't enough!" "It might be under the right circumstances. What if I could arrange for you to keep him afterwards, Rick? I'm talking about Shelley Lawlor. We want him out of the way as well. Assuming you'd want to, of course," he suggested. "What are you suggesting?" "Of course, if all you want is some boy-ass when you get the urge, you wouldn't be interested in something long term. It could be permanent if you wanted." I turned around. Wilderstein was smiling. "What if I wanted to adopt him?" I asked. Wilderstein laughed. "You're crazy! I knew you were hot for him, but adopt him? But yes, I guess it could be arranged, Rick. Hell, after this is done, if you wanted, you could probably even marry him if you took him to the right place. What you do with the boy after this is over is your business." "Very funny, Wilderstein. It's a million or nothing." I glared at Wilderstein and he nodded slightly. "What's the deal? There's more to it than what I think, isn't there? Otherwise you would be holding me to three," I demanded. He shrugged, meeting my eyes with a vacant stare. My blood chilled. "What else?" "I know that the money is going to be important to you if you have to disappear. A million will get you a good start in another country, especially if you head to Central America. It all comes down to how much you want Shelley." "It's very simple. I want Shelley enough to adopt him," I said flatly. "Actually that's good. For good reason, we will want both you and him hidden. If he's with you, that's even better. I'm sure you'll take good care of him. In fact you'd have to adopt him if you wanted to take him overseas. "Okay. The I want to adopt him. My response provoked another smile. "That's what I thought. I have the papers right here, in fact." Wilderstein tapped his jacket pocket. "All they need are signatures,... your signature, and the boy's legal guardian, and we can take them before a judge." "He doesn't have one," I interjected. "His parents were killed in a car wreck when he was a baby. He's a ward of the state. He needs someone to take care of him." "Isn't he with a foster family?" "If you're talking about that Harmon bitch who's supposed to be taking care of him, then yes," I replied angrily. Wilderstein tilted his head, encouraging elaboration. "You may not care, but he's being abused on a daily basis." He shrugged, and we glared at each other in silence. Wilderstein neither cared or was interested in finding out more about Shelley. Finally, I sighed. "What's involved?" "Not a lot. We'll put a bug on him. We get Shelley close to him and in the right situation, and then we wait." "How? By using the Cincinnati connection?" I asked. Wilderstein regarded me with fascination, then nodded slowly. "You're on the ball, Rick. You were always good at this. I think that's the best way in. He goes there on a regular basis. It is the most likely place he passes information on and gets some action." "Shelley's only ten," I commented. "He won't understand what he has to do. Besides, how are you going to use a bug? Remember, the target's supposed to be a boy lover. If he is, it'd be fucking stupid to use a bug." "That rather depends on where it's located. Even if he takes the boy's clothes off, which is very likely if they have sex, there are still places,..." "Meaning?" I asked uncertainly. I felt a growing distaste for what I was agreeing to, however, there was no alternative. "Where's the last place you'd expect to find a bug after the clothes are off?" I thought for a second. "Under the skin of course? It might be overlooked in the armpit or somewhere else, but it would be a hell of a risk. He'd be a fool not to make a skin check, but in the heat of the moment,... and he's not known for being cautious. There would be a scar of course. You might get away with it. It's be a long shot though unless you buried it pretty deep." Wilderstein smiled. "You're getting warm,... Except the failure rate after a day or two has been about one in three. Then there is the problem of a scar, even with laser surgery there's a mark, and the quality of the transmission is fucking awful." "Where then?" "It's a Russian idea, actually," Wilderstein smirked. "And considering the nature of the activity, well,... it's ideal," he hinted. "Where?" I repeated impatiently. "His scrotum. In fact the scar is already there thanks to mother nature." "How?" "Uh,... To be exact, a wireless transmitter,.... actually it'd take the place of one of his balls." "You're joking!" He grinned. "No! Until a month ago the Russians were running an agent in Saudi Arabia. The kid was about twelve years old. They had a good thing going too, until we turned his handler. Despite what you'd think, Rick, those Arabs really love their little boys. They'll say just about anything in front of them to prove how fucking great they are. It's interesting story. I won't bore you with the details right now, except they got the kid close to some prince whose name you'd recognize if you were still reading the daily briefings. We were lucky. We got our hands on both the transmitter and receiver, and some good information as well. It's one heck of a brilliant bit of engineering. It only has a transmit range of a hundred yards, but the clarity is fucking fantastic. You'd think you were right there beside him." "I,... God, Wilderstein! You want to cut one of Shelley's balls off. You want to put the Russian thing inside his ballsac?" "He'd look a bit strange with three testicles wouldn't he?" Wilderstein suggested feebly. "Rick, I knew you wouldn't like this, but there's no other way." "Jesus, you've sunk to an all time low this time, Wilderstein." "I've looked into it. It's not like a boy really needs both of them." "The hell he doesn't!" "No really! I've spoken with a pediatrician, and an expert in the field. With one testicle Shelley'll be able to do the same things he'd do with two of them. I'm told it's a very simple operation." "I'm sure it is," I interjected cynically. "Local anaesthetic too, I bet?" "It could be, except that we don't want Shelley to know what happened to him." "You're going to cut one of his balls and you don't want him to know about it? You're fucking crazy, Wilderstein. As soon as he comes out of anaesthesia, he'll feel the difference. There's going to be some pain. Hell, maybe a lot of pain. You really think he won't figure it out?" "All that's involved is a single incision less than an inch long to insert the transmitter we took out of the Russian kid. With laser surgery they tell me Shelley will heal completely in only a few days. He can be keep asleep until then." "And there won't be a scar?" I asked sarcastically. "The doctor assures me that it'll be next to impossible to see a scar, even up close, after a couple of days. Like I said, that's the advantage of using the scrotum. The scar is already there. I saw some photos of the Russian boy the day before they removed the transmitter. His balls looked normal enough to me. He looked exactly the same when I saw him after they removed it. They used a silicone implant and I tell you I couldn't see any difference. It'll take less than fifteen minutes and there won't be any pain that an aspirin or two can't take of." "Yeah, except afterwards." "Why?" "You don't think he'll realize one of them doesn't feel the same as the other. Don't even try to get me to believe he won't notice the removal of one of his testicles," I interjected angrily. "Which one by the way, as if it makes any difference." "If they're both healthy, then I'm told that it's be the one that hangs the lowest. The weight of the transmitter is a bit different to the real thing I guess." "They haven't dropped yet," I answered. "It's hard to tell." "What? What hasn't dropped?" "His balls, Wilderstein," I replied angrily. "He hasn't started puberty yet, so they haven't dropped. Okay, assuming I go along, what happens afterwards?" "When the job is done, Shelley will go to a clinic. We'll provide the doctor. We'll tell you who and where, if and when the time comes. He'll have another operation to take the transmitter out. I'm sure you wouldn't want anyone listening in again, now would you?" he laughed. "If you're worried about the aesthetics, he can have the silicone replacement thing done. It might be artificial but the doctors tell me it will pretty much look and feel like the real thing from the outside. Only the two of you will know it isn't real. In or out of his clothes, he'll look as normal as any boy. Hell, if you want Rick, he can even be fitted with the next size up so he can really fill out his swimming costume." "You're fucking hilarious," I swore. Wilderstein smirked and slowly walked back towards the window where he had being standing earlier. I could see that from where he was standing, he was looking at the DC Veteran's Hospital, the site of many CIA operations involving medical work. I wondered whether the operation would begin there again. However, given the nature of the situation, more than likely it would be done at a private clinic. That way there would be no record at all of what happened. "He'll still be able to have children?" I asked querulously. "If he wants to it shouldn't be a problem with only one ball, but somehow I don't think his getting married and having kids is on the cards, do you? Not after what he's been doing with you. If I wasn't sure the kid was queer, do you think I'd be doing this to him?" "Who knows?" I answered grumpily. "What's the down side for him?" "The only adverse affect the doctors talked about might be a delay in starting puberty, and maybe his physical development will be a bit less manly than it might have been if he had two nuts. Apparently, you can fix that with testosterone injections, if you want," Wilderstein added gratuitously. "However, for a boy lover like you the side effects are probably a good thing, I expect. As far as Shelley is concerned, it probably won't make any real difference given his sex life. He'll doesn't need his nuts to lie with his butt in the air." "You're real funny, Wilderstein," I commented dryly. "If,..." I paused thoughtfully, trying to decide how far to push Wilderstein. The fact was that there was little I could or would do to stop what was being talked about. Wilderstein had confirmed my deepest fear. There was a Russian spy, planted under deep cover, in the highest position in the country. God only knew how much damage he had already been able to inflict. Under certain circumstances, the long term fate of the nation might depend on him. The loss of one of Shelley's testicles was a relatively small price to pay. "If this is going to happen, I need to know what's really in the purse? And how soon it has to occur?" "I already told you. You'll get five hundred thousand, Rick. This thing might only take three or four days once you're in place. Only how much is in the budget isn't the real question, it it? You want to know how much is it worth to the Agency?" Wilderstein asked flatly. He shrugged. "The Director said to do it no matter what. There are any number of reasons why he wants to get rid of him. However he wants it clean and he wants it tidy. No traces, Rick. That's why you have to disappear. I'll even destroy your file. I don't know why, but he said he wants no dirt on either party. No bad press for anyone, unless it's the FBI, then it's open season," he laughed. "Fuck the bastards, to quote him. To answer your question, how much is it worth to him? I have no idea." "A mole who is this deep and this important is worth a lot to get rid of," I said ambiguously. "There's going to be a bigger budget." "Okay. You're right. I've got more or less whatever it takes," Wilderstein replied suspiciously. "Then it's going to be more rather than less," I said. "A million dollars for me and you're going to set up a trust fund for Shelley. One of his balls is going to cost the agency another million dollars." "You're joking." I stepped closer to Wilderstein. "The way I see it, Jacob, you've got a problem." "How so?" "You're screwed if either of us say no." "You won't!" Wilderstein said adamantly. "Unless you plan on spending serious time in a Federal pen. With your million dollars, you can take Shelley a thousand miles from here. You can find a place in Central America where you can do whatever you want to do with him to your heart's content. But you can forget the million buck trust fund. It's not going to happen. No kid's balls are worth that much. Hell, he could lose a nut playing soccer. One of my neighbor's kids supposedly lost a ball last year when he got kicked in the groin. It's no big deal." I shrugged with pretended disinterest and casually started to move towards the door to give a clear indication that we were finished. I had only moved a few feet before Wilderstein laughed. "Okay, Rick, a million bucks even for both of you. You get yours in cash as soon as the job is done. The kid get's his when he's eighteen or twenty one, or whenever the hell you want." "One million payable in advance. It goes in the usual account in Switzerland, transferred through an intermediary like you did for that payoff for the arms merchant in Brazil. I'm sure you know which one," I said dryly. "The balance will be in unmarked cash, old notes, nothing more than hundreds. I want it clean. I'll come after you if you screw me." "Agreed!" Wilderstein said quickly. "Anything else?" "I want the adoption papers signed and approved by a judge, or whatever you have to do with the authorities for me to have full guardianship. I want the adoption papers in my hand before you do anything to Shelley. I want it done right, Wilderstein. If you fuck with me, even a little bit, I'll cut both your balls off." "No! You'll get the papers only after the thing is finished and you're getting on the plane. However, I'm prepared to give you half the money and the all of the photos just as soon as Shelley's had his little operation." "How soon?" Wilderstein turned away, breaking eye contact. The meeting was finished. He spoke quietly, giving only the critical instructions that I would need. "How soon?" I repeated. "I need time to talk to Shelley." "I have a doctor scheduled to do it as soon as you agree. If you must know, it'll probably be done later today." "No! I need to talk with him first." "That's not possible." "Where is he?" I demanded. I felt my heart sink. I wanted to tell Shelley, to explain why the operation was necessary, why it was the only way we could spend our lives together. "He's safe. Trust me." "For God's sake. You fucking bastard, Wilderstein. You've got him already, haven't you?" Wilderstein shrugged. He tried to be nonchalant, yet I sensed his nervousness. He took a deep breath. "Listen, Rick. There was no other way. We had to move quickly. There's no time to waste. It'll take a few days to heal." "Where is he?" I repeated anxiously. "I told you he's safe. Okay?" "Not okay! You wanted to be absolutely certain, didn't you? Maybe you weren't sure I'd go along with your dirty little scheme. So you grabbed him first, just to make sure, didn't you? What happened?" Wilderstein smiled slightly. "He had a slight accident, Rick. He fell off his bike on the way to school this morning. It happened just before I called you." "How?" I demanded angrily. I took a deep breath to control my temper. It was a trick I had learned after many years working in Central and South America. "Is he okay?" "There's a few scratches on him, that's all Rick. He took a dart in the thigh. He never knew what hit him. He almost stopped the bike just before he fell off. He's fine. He's sedated right now. Of course, he'll,..." "Where is he, Wilderstein?" I interrupted angrily. "He's at a private clinic if you must know, Rick. It's fully equipped for surgery. He's in safe hands. Now that you've agreed to do it, I'll place a call there and give them the go ahead." "Damn you!" "Be at your place tomorrow morning. I'll have the boy with me. I think you know what needs to done until then. The things you'll need to get Shelley ready for his part of the assignment are in the briefcase on the desk. He can even keep his first name, but you'll have to clue him in on the rest of it. His last name will be the same as yours. You'll go by the name of Robert Walker. You ought to be used to the name, but you still have a lot of work to do between now and then." There was nothing more that I needed to say. It was not hard to know the contents of the briefcase without opening it. There would be an envelop big enough to hold half a dozen sheets of paper, a few photographs, various credit cards and a driver's license in a name that was very familiar to me. I suspected I would also find a bottle of pills or some other way of keeping Shelley asleep for the next few days until there was no sign of the operation. I breathed out slowly, shaking my head futilely. It was impossible not to feel depressed. "Do you have any questions?" Wilderstein asked. "More like an observation. Shelley's ten years old. You said the Russian boy was about twelve. The last time I looked, compared to ten-year-old boys, most twelve-year-olds had bigger balls. At that age, even a year can make a big difference in that part of the anatomy." Wilderstein shrugged and then he smirked. "You're the expert on boys' gonads, I guess. Aren't the Russians supposed to have small balls? Actually, the doctors didn't say anything was unusual when I talked with them earlier today. Maybe because the transmitter isn't all that big. You want to see one? I've got the spare right here. I thought you might want to see it." "Show me," I said curiously. Wilderstein slipped his hand into his jacket pocket. He drew out a small plastic box and flipped the lid open with his thumb. He held it out. "It's a marvellous bit of engineering, Rick. If you didn't know, you'd think the Israelis made it, rather than the Russians. It looks just like the real thing the doctors tell me. Even the color is right." I studied the small egg-shaped object that lay in a foam insert within the box. It was less than three quarters of an inch long, a half an inch in diameter. It was cream colored and the surface was slightly variegated in color and texture to represent the real thing. Three small shiny tubes sprouted from one end, like tiny catheters. "Two of those tubes hold antenna," Wilderstein remarked. "It's remarkable. The thing is even enclosed with silicon so it actually feels a bit spongy. Inside there's a titanium casing around the electronics. It's probably darn near indestructible." "Batteries?" Wilderstein gave me a supercilious look that was intended to show that he was well versed in the latest technology. "Fucking brilliant, especially for the Russians. They used some Japanese technology for a change. There's one of those Seiko kinetic batteries built right in. No need for a replacement, which is good because there's no way of putting it inside short of another operation. It gets charged every time his nuts move." Wilderstein smirked. "Make sure your boy wears boxers so they bounce around a lot. If my wife's watch is any indication, it should be able to last at least a dozen years." "How convenient," I said sarcastically. "Once it's fully charged it'll run for ten hours if he doesn't move. That's the down side. The problem is it works great at night, and lousy when he first wakes up in the morning. If you don't want it charging up, you switch it on and off by squeezing on both ends at the same time." I nodded, strangely interested in the device displayed before me, yet still questioning the capability Wilderstein was attributing to it. "Their experience with high-tech pretty much requires that they always have a backup plan," I said bluntly. Wilderstein ignored my observation. "This thing is great even by our standards, Rick. There's a spare, of course. I don't know how you'd replace a transmitter in the field, so I don't what good it would do you to take it with you," Wilderstein joked. Then, true to character he was finished and he was ready to dismiss me. "I'll call you if there's any thing else you need to know. You know what arrangements to make." "Expenses?" "Pay them out of your fucking million." "No way!" "Okay. Don't get pissy with me. Use the cards inside the file for everything you need. There's a twenty thousand limit on each one. Get yourself some decent clothes. I'll bring the kid's clothes with me. And get started learning your cover again. You're still in the import business, the president of American Imports. It's a small company with big plans. You import mostly from Bolivia." "Very funny. I'm back in the cocoa business I presume. One of the Agency's most successful firms," I said. Wilderstein nodded. "It's a good cover. After all, you've had a lot of experience in that part of the world and Bolivia grows something like half the world's cocoa." "It's more like a third," I corrected. "And I spent most of my time in Mexico." "Whatever! The important thing is that American Imports hasn't been noticed by DEA yet. You need some help getting rid of the opposition down there, so you want government support, specifically military strikes against the other cartels. You're willing to make a large contribution to his legal fund. The donation will get you a face to face meeting. Then you offer him more money under the table for the right words in the right places. Hopefully they will have asked the Agency to do some homework on you. He'll know you're in the cocaine business. He'll try to play games with you, Rick. Once he sees Shelley, you'll have to play the rest of it by ear. If nothing happens, then maybe I'm wrong about him." "I do have one question for you, Wilderstein." I watched for his reaction. "How do you know he likes boys?" "If you must know, it came up in a conversation with someone in the British Secret Service who was looking to move to the Agency. We discovered that he had some information. He raised a few questions," Wilderstein said absently. "That's all I can tell you." I shook my head. "There's too much at stake to walk into this cold. Elaborate, or I walk out of here." "Okay. So the guy told us a few things we didn't expect. It turned out he was actually a Russian mole. In fact, you might say he came from a family of moles." "And?" I prompted without showing surprise. It was not unusual for the Russians to involve several generations of the same family in their nefarious plots. "And?" Wilderstein shrugged. "You can figure it out." "Let me think. Okay. He wanted to change sides? That makes sense in today's market. Except he was afraid the Brits wouldn't like that one of their own was playing on both teams, so he tried us? They were never too keen on doubles, but we went for it." Wilderstein laughed. "You're good, Rick. It's a pity you left the Agency. Now tell me how we get from him to our man." "No idea." "Think!" "I don't have time to play games." "You're right, Rick, and neither do I. Our British friend was only a boy when he emigrated from Poland. He was eleven or twelve at the time. One of his parents, I forget whether it was his mother or father, was a professor at Oxford, made the connection with our Man. It was in the late sixties, when a lot of Americans studying at Oxford were flirting with socialism. It would not have been a problem if that was all it was, but of course, both parents were working for the Russians. It was only a matter of time until the boy became involved as well. It's not only the Russians know how to use a boy, it seems." Wilderstein laughed and scratched the back of his balding head." "Very funny," I snarled." "He was very good at it too, at least from what I've read in the file. He was particularly good looking and he wasn't afraid of getting his clothes off for Mother-Russia, and given His predilections, it was only a matter of a few weeks before they had Him under control." "Fuck! You're joking!" "No, but I wish I was. Like I said, the boy was very good at it. From what I can tell, the kid probably looked a bit like Shelley. Straight blond hair and blue eyes. What you once referred to as the 'Aaron Carter look', wasn't it Rick?" I breathed out in frustration, again realizing that there was no limit to how far the Agency could or would go. "The boy recruited our man while he was the guest of his parents for the weekend. They obviously set it up, or at the least, they noticed the interest being shown in their son and allowed it to happen. It's quite likely that it was the kid who started the ball rolling. Maybe it was blackmail after the first time or two, although I doubt it. Perhaps he even fell for the kid, but more than likely, the boy was simply a way to exercise his lust. Anyway, it worked. Our man bought into the other side, for sex as much as anything else they might do to enhance his career. You can imagine how pleased the Russians were when he became governor, but when he took office they must have been ecstatic. God only knows how much damage he's been able to do since then. This is important, Rick. I'm not going to give you the fate of the Nation speech, but it's that important." Chapter Four That afternoon I was very busy. By the time I went to sleep late that night most of what I needed to accomplish was either finished or well underway. There was even a 'for sale' sign outside my house. The real estate agent had been told to sell it quickly. My accountant had been instructed to sell my investments and deposit the funds in a New York bank where they were promptly transferred to an anonymous Cayman Island account. The next morning, I was finished breakfast and reviewing the cover documents for the third or fourth time when a white van slowly came down the road. It turned into my driveway and stopped in front of the garage. I called out to Maria to keep out of sight and I was out the back door and waiting when the car door opened. Wilderstein came around to meet me. "Is he okay?" I asked as I tried to peer through the darkened glass. "He's fine. It went smoothly. At least there were no problems at the clinic. The doctor used laser surgery. He tells me it'll heal fast." "What else?" I demanded. "We've got the funds transferred," Wilderstein said. He passed me a small piece of paper with a line of numbers and letters on it. "You have to move fast, Rick. The Director wants this wrapped up by the middle of next week." "That's ridiculous!" "You have ten days as I see it. It'll take at least half of that for you to get the boy ready and set up the contact. A day or two to get into place in Cincinnati. You have three days at most to get it done. All I can tell you is it's important. It's very important," he stressed. "Fuck! Okay, Jacob. I'll try. I really don't have much of a choice. Let's get Shelley inside and settled in bed." "He's still unconscious. The nurse gave him a shot of something right before we left the clinic. It's supposed to last about six hours or so. I've got some pills for you to keep him knocked out for a few days. I'm told that the feelings will have returned to normal." Wilderstein opened the side door of the van and stepped to the side. I looked inside. A pale blue blanket covered his body almost from head to toe. Only the top of his head peeked out. I smiled slightly, remembering how soft his hair was. I wondered whether he had been conscious at all since he fell off his bicycle. It was unlikely. "I'll carry him inside if you get the blanket and open the door for me," I said. "At least you could have put some clothes on him. It's cold out here." "The doctor said to keep him bare or lightly covered down there, Rick. Fresh air aids the healing process, you know." "I'm sure it does." "He's okay, I promise. He might be a bit sore, but that's all. He'll be up and about just as soon as the drug wears off." "He's not okay, Wilderstein. Your bastards cut one of his balls off. And don't bother trying to tell me it was a matter of national security. I know better than that. There must have been another way to get the bastard." "Maybe. We don't have time, Rick. There's too much at stake." Gently I lifted the blanket away. He was dressed in a disposable gown that hospitals use. It was loosely tied at his waist and it had come apart far enough for me to glimpse his chest and belly. Below that, a white gauze bandage loosely covered his groin area. Shelley wasn't very heavy but it was difficult maneuvering his inert body out the van. Once I held him in both arms, his eighty pounds provided no difficulty. I carried him into the house through the kitchen, into the hallway. With a little difficulty I carried him up the stairs and carefully laid him out full length on the king-sized bed in my bedroom. I stood back to look at him for a few seconds before I turned to Wilderstein. "You okay to go to work or do you want some time to check him out?" Wilderstein said snidely. "You're a real asshole," I replied. "Go on, take off the bandage. I can see you're curious, Rick. You might as well see him now as after I'm gone. But believe me, there's not much to see." Rather than sit on the bed and run the risk of disturbing him, I knelt down on the hardwood floor and carefully untied the cord that secured the hospital gown. I lifted the sides away and gently peeled the tape back from the gauze dressing. Cautiously I lifted the gauze up. At first glance, everything looked normal. Shelley's little penis was limp and lying against his lower belly. His scrotum was relaxed, the delicate silky skin revealing the rounded and slightly elongated shapes of two very small testicles. Shelley looked exactly the same as when I had last seen him on Sunday morning. Well not 'exactly' the same. The last time I had seen that part of him, he was putting his clothes on. He was erect, for him a perfectly normal state. For a few minutes he strutted around the room with his penis pointing the way, until I wrestled him to the bed, gave him one final kiss on his hard little projection and pulled his briefs up despite his protestations to the contrary. We were already twenty minutes late. What surprised me was that there was no sign of an incision. "You can't see anything, can you Rick?" I turned back. Wilderstein had closed the distance between us and was looking over my shoulder. "They're the same size," I admitted. "I told you it wouldn't be a problem with the Russian boy being two years older." "Where is it?" I asked. "Way down between his legs, at the very back of his scrotum. You'd think the doctor tried to take it out through his fucking anus it's so far back." "You're a funny guy, Jacob." He laughed. "I told him we didn't want a visible scar so he put it were no one would see it, not even Shelley, not unless he looks in a mirror. Of course, cleanliness will be a bit of a problem if you can't keep your hands off him for a few days." Wilderstein's crude comments were enough to turn my stomach. I wanted him gone from my home as quickly as possible. I stood up and guiltily placed the blanket over the boy I loved. It was bad enough that Wilderstein was there. He didn't have to see Shelley's naked body. "You got some coffee, Rick?" Wilderstein said. He regarded me uncertainly. "You're still pretty sore about all this, aren't you?" "What do you think?" I asked testily. "Yeah, I've got some coffee in the kitchen." He followed me out of the room, back down the stairs, and into the kitchen, taking a chair where he could have his back to the wall and look out the window. Old habits died hard, even for someone who had spent less than a year or two in the field. He crossed his legs and arms and observed me in silence. "So Rick, what makes a guy like you do it. I mean chasing after little boys. You could probably have any woman you wanted. I mean Shelley's a cute kid and all, but he's still a little boy. It's not like he's really able to make love to you." I winced. "If I have to explain it, you aren't going to understand. It'd be a waste of time." "Is it so great, fucking a little boy in the ass?" "I'm not the first man to do it, Wilderstein. And I'm sure I won't be the last. It's been going on since we lived in caves." He shrugged. "I have a question for you? How are you going to be able to look him in the face, knowing you let another man fuck him?" "Why do you think?" I replied petulantly. "Do you think I like the idea?" "I don't know. Probably not," Wilderstein smirked. "That's an understatement. It isn't for the money either," I added. "You really want him that bad, huh?" "Yes!" I answered. I watched Wilderstein sip his coffee. I wished he would choke on it. "What else do you have for me?" I asked after a moment. "A couple of things. First, the receiver." He held out a yellow box. "It's been thoroughly tested and it's working one hundred percent. It's got new batteries, too. You shouldn't have any problems." I took the object and turned it over. I examined it for a few seconds. It looked very un-Russian. "It looks like a Walkman." "It is a Walkman, Rick. At least most of the insides are. It looks like a Walkman on the outside too. Except for a few small details that Sony doesn't provide, no one will notice it. You'll find it works too, just like one you'd buy at the store. It's tuned to the frequency of the transmitter so you won't get any outside interference. The Russians used one of those new flexible circuit boards to do the electronics. It's built right into the plastic casing so it's totally hidden. The only difference between this one and the real thing is how these two knobs work. This one normally sets the AM-FM channel. It also sets the channel for the transmitter. There are two of them. The alpha carries your normal acoustic range of about ten feet plus or minus. The other channel, well,... it's a bit different. God knows how they managed to do it." "What are you talking about?" "Put the earphones and listen." I placed the headphones on my head and waited. Wilderstein said something about the way it worked. All I could hear was his muffled voice. He moved the knob further to the right. A moment later I could hear a soft tapping that mixed with a rustling sound, rather like wind. It was slow and rhythmical, and very relaxing. It was impossible to determine the source. I looked at Wilderstein questioningly. He smiled. He pointed up. "Huh? I don't know what I'm listening to." "You can hear him breathing. The other sound is his heart," Wilderstein said. "Listen carefully." He turned the knob. This time his voice was distinct, although it sounded a long way away. I was reminded of a time when I was child and a friend of mine and I used a hundred foot length of garden hose to talk to each other. It took a second or two before I realized what was happening. I dragged the headphones away in surprise. Wilderstein was not surprised. "I told you, Rick. Marvellous bit of engineering, isn't it?" I glanced up. "I could hear him breathing? And then when you put it on the other channel, I heard you speaking. All the way down here?" He grinned no longer to contain his glee. "The microphones are incredible. It has a range of up to two-hundred feet outside. Indoors, it's only about half of that. It's not much good for high-frequency sound, but voices? You've got to give the Russians an A-plus for this one." "It's fucking unreal. All the way down here. It sounded like you were right next to him." "Okay. Let's get down to business again. You have another knob here. It sets the volume, just like a regular Walkman. If you push in when you turn it, the volume changes for the transmitter. You can record with this just like any normal one, if you hear anything besides hard-core sex, that is." Wilderstein smirked. "Turn the volume up so you can hear through the head phones. Then push the 'PLAY' button in and hold it. It writes onto the cassette tape, using about a millimeter of the width, so the tape inside the machine sounds perfectly normal if anyone plays it." "What else?" "If you push both the eject and the play buttons at the same time, it sends a warning signal. Shelley will get a small electric shock at the base of his penis. Not enough to make him jump, of course, but he'll know something is up. Besides his dick being up, that is," Wilderstein joked. "It'll probably feel just like he's having an orgasm. He knows how it feels to climax doesn't he? He can cum, can't he?" "Fuck, you're a funny guy, Wilderstein. "A boy Shelley's age certainly has orgasms, but it'll be a few years yet before anything comes out." "Thanks for that piece of valuable information. Like I said yesterday, you're the expert on boys' gonads. I'll keep it in mind when I start fucking boys. Anyway, lets get back to business. Rick if you need to warn him, don't hesitate to use the receiver to give him a warning shock. He needs to get his ass out of there as quickly as possible. By the way, you'll get maybe two shocks out of it before the battery is out of power. Remember it won't be worth shit in the morning, unless he's had a very active night," he said humorlessly. "Anything else?" I bristled, impatient for him to leave. I wanted to be upstairs next to Shelley when he woke up. "Just his clothes. I've got them in the bag." He gestured to the brown-leather travel bag next to the kitchen door. "Everything's there, right down to the silk boxers and socks. You might not like the choice, then again, maybe you will. He has to look the part." "Of a boy-whore?" I suggested snappily. "It pays to advertise, Rick. That sounds like something you would say, doesn't it?" He smirked and raised an eyebrow. I ignored him. "You have a nice place here. What are you asking?" "Three-fifty." "Fully furnished too?" "What do you think?" I answered irascibly. "Can you see me holding a yard sale during the next few days?" "There's no need to become indignant. The way I see it, this is an arrangement of mutual benefit. You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. Anything you lose from selling this place, you can probably find a way to take out of your expenses." "It's always quid pro quo for you, Jacob. Is there a contingency plan?" Wilderstein ignored me. I had no right to ask. However, I knew Wilderstein almost as well as my own parents. He was a man who never went forward with at least two courses of action available to him should he find one way blocked. In fact, it was not unusual for him to have two operations going at the same time, both moving in different directions but ultimately having the same goal. Under normal conditions, if the Agency went to Plan B it was only because Plan A had failed. In that way, Wilderstein was different. It was usually a race to the finish. "Good luck, Rick." "Will I need it?" I asked quietly. "Probably not." "If Shelley's in any danger, I'll pull him out in a flash. You know I will. I'll even kill if I have to." He glared at me, considering the likely victim should I have to follow through on my threat. "I know that. Look when he's with the Man, don't do anything rash. Just find out how the information gets passed on. That's all we need to know. Then get your asses out of there and fast." "I thought,..." Wilderstein looked at me dismissively. "You thought what?" he intonated. "You wanted the goods on him,... so he could be forced out?" "The Director changed his mind. He's got a year left on his term." "What you really mean to say is that the Director wants to be reappointed when the Administration changes." I took a deep breath in growing frustration. "Nothing changes, Jacob. The rules are the same, it's only the faces that change. Even the Agency doesn't care what he does. Lying, stealing, abusing his power, whatever he does, it doesn't matter. He's immoral and you treat him like he's immortal! The man has no ethics!" "Maybe. It doesn't matter." "Christ, there's enough evidence to suggest he's a Russian spy, god damn it! He ought to be doing life in Leaven worth." "Don't get self-righteous with me, Rick. I know why you're doing this, and it has nothing to do with preserving the nation's security, or ethics, or morality. All you want is Shelley, isn't that the truth?" Wilderstein said as he pointed upwards. "You'll get your little fag-boy, and your money, but it's going to be on our terms." "Get out, Wilderstein," I said angrily. "Get out before I fucking kill you. You and the assholes you work with are the lowest scum on earth." "You've a right to be angry. You're no better. You can pretend you are, Rick, but in truth we both know you have no conscience. You were perfectly happy to recruit Shelley for Bob Maxwell. And when you took a liking to him, you didn't waste more than a minute before you started working on the Hewer boy as a replacement. When you get right down to it, you're no different to than me." I groaned inwardly. There was no denying that Wilderstein was right. At that moment I made a promise to myself and the unconscious boy upstairs. At the end of the operation, I would make sure that he was never treated the same way. He deserved more, much more. I loved him, and every minute we spent together convinced me that the love was returned. "I'll see you in ten days, Rick," Wilderstein said abruptly. He stood up and walked to the door. I was vaguely aware of him leaving. I closed my eyes in guilty self-hatred, wondering how I could do what I was about to do. However, there was little enough time to get ready, and certainly no time for self- recrimination.