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  Dark Passage 
 by Elizabeth Kent  

 DARK PASSAGE by Elizabeth Kent

 Face yawned and stretched as he rose from his desk, rolling his head and
shrugging his shoulders to relieve the stiffness in his neck. Two months
of painstaking research and careful preparation had gone into this job,
and he hadn't really even gotten started yet. Walking around the room to
work out the kinks, he picked up a folder and reviewed the information.

 Ted Wright: millionaire businessman, supporter of liberal and
humanitarian causes, winner of several awards from employees unions for
his unflagging support of equal employment rights and protection for
racial and sexual minorities. Oh yeah, and drug smuggler and money
launderer, too.

 It was a smear campaign, said his supporters. A way to undermine his
influence and good work in the community. There was no evidence to support
the accusations. 

 And there wasn't. Trouble was, people associated with Ted Wright kept
turning up dead. Or not turning up at all. That tended to worry the hell
out of their families, one of whom had hired the team to look into it to
try to prove the charges.

 The old man who'd hired them admitted that it had been several years
since his son had been in Wright's employ, since he'd disappeared. The
father had been following the news about Wright ever since, and since
others had disappeared after his son, well, it only seemed right to do
something about it. Especially since he was getting on in years now,
regretting that he'd not been on the best of terms with his son when he'd
disappeared.

 "What was the problem?" asked Hannibal. He didn't particularly like to
pry, but the information might help. This trail was already way cold.

 "We disagreed over his...lifestyle," the old man answered, looking away.

 "Lifestyle?" asked Face.

 "He was...queer."

 Face winced at the use of the word. He didn't particularly like that
term, though he'd heard it often enough. It had been drilled into him over
and over during his Catholic upbringing that homosexuality was a sin. He'd
agonized over that one as a youngster when he'd found himself thinking way
too often about a kind young priest who'd joined the staff at the
orphanage about the same time Face had discovered his body had a mind of
its own. Guiltily, he'd poured out his heart to the priest in confession
and been gently assured that he'd simply mistaken hero worship for love.
He hadn't been too sure about it at the time, but having received no
encouragement whatsoever from the priest, he eventually forgot his crush.
Then he'd discovered girls, and he'd never looked back. 

 "So you kicked him out?" he'd asked.

 Hannibal had given him a look that clearly told him to shut the hell up.
However acrimonious their final parting had been, the man obviously felt
guilty about it now. Rubbing his face in it wasn't going to help. Suitably
chastened, Face had shut up and let the man finish his story.

 "For awhile, things seemed to be going pretty well for him," said the
father. "I saw his name in the business section of the paper from time to
time. He was working his way up in Wright's business." He sighed and
covered his face with his hands. "Sometimes he'd call me, try to make
things right between us, trying to see if I was even a little proud of his
success. But I said all the wrong things. Just...just couldn't seem to
bridge the gap. Then eventually he just stopped calling. When I got
worried, I tried calling him at work. They told me he'd been promoted to a
different division, that he was unavailable. His apartment had been
cleaned out when I went to check it. He disappeared without a trace, and
Wright's company simply refused to take my calls anymore. I couldn't get
the police to take me seriously, of course. When they found out my son and
I were alienated, and then when Wright accused me of harassment, they
washed their hands of the whole thing. There was nothing I could do."

 "Why hire us now, then?" asked Hannibal.

 "I'm dying," the old man said softly. "Which is fine. But before I go,
I'd like to know for sure what happened to my son." He lowered his eyes,
removed his glasses, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I did love
him, you know. He was my only son, the child of my old age. I just...I
have to know."

 Hannibal stood and lit a cigar. "We'll be in touch if and when we learn
anything," he said. "But like I said, the trail's cold. It could be
awhile..."

 "And I could be dead by then," sighed the old man. "Well, it can't be
helped. It'll be some comfort to know you're at least working on it," he
said.

 Hannibal nodded. "We'll do our best."

 Face flipped the file shut, dropped it on his desk, and walked into the
next room where Hannibal was reading the business section of the paper. "I
need Murdock," Face announced.

 "What for?" asked Hannibal.

 "We're getting married."

 Chapter 2

 "Oh, Face, I love it!" cooed Murdock, slipping the gold wedding band on
the ring finger of his left hand.

 "Well, don't lose it," said Face, putting a matching band on his own
hand. "It was expensive. Maybe I can hock it when this is all over."

 "Hock my ring?" Murdock gasped. "What about our vows to love and honor
and cherish each other forever and ever? Does that mean nothing to you?"

 "Shut up, fool!" growled B.A. "You ain't made no vows."

 "A mere technicality," returned Murdock, climbing over the back of the
couch in Face's apartment to fall on his knees at Face's feet, arms
outstretched, head flung back. "Oh, I can see it now. You'll give me
dozens of children."

 "Dozens!" interrupted Face, sounding horrified but smiling as he played
along.

 "And they'll all have your beautiful blue eyes, and your seductive smile,
and your golden skin."

 "And your insanity!" finished B.A. "Just what we need `round here, a
dozen crazy con men!"

 "You're just jealous because he proposed to me and not you!" Murdock shot
back, getting to his feet and holding out his hand in front of him to
admire his ring.

 "Alright, guys," Hannibal broke in. "Let's get back to business. C'mon,
Face, finish the briefing."

 "Just a second," replied Face. He walked to the kitchen, pulled a bottle
of pills out, and slipped one under his tongue.

 "You got another headache?" asked Murdock.

 Face nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. He was tired. He was about to
enter the employ of a man whose employees didn't always seem to enjoy the
best health over the long haul. Wright had the resources to do a very
thorough background check on him and on anyone connected with him. He
didn't want anything to go wrong. He'd worked his way back through the
identities they were about to assume, forging and planting everything from
birth certificates and vaccination records to parking tickets, marriage
certificates, and diplomas. It was a lot of hard, painstaking work of the
kind that always made him tense and gave him migraines.

 "You want me to rub your neck?" Murdock asked. He was serious now. He'd
seen Face in the throes of a serious migraine, and it wasn't a pretty
sight.

 "Maybe later," Face answered with a smile. "For now, let's get on with
this." He spread some file folders out on the dining room table as they
all took a seat. "I'm going in as Richard Todd. Masters in Business
Administration from Harvard, junior executive in a prestigious investment
firm back east until news of my sexual orientation got me fired. I've
heard about Wright and the awards he's won, and I'm anxious to work where
my orientation won't matter. Murdock, you're Paul Huntington. You've got a
Masters in Fine Arts and you're a freelance clothing designer. We met back
east, and it was the scandal associated with our relationship that got me
fired. You've come out here with me, and we've taken an apartment. Before
we met you were hospitalized twice for depression, but you've been doing
fine since we met. Is that gonna work for you?"

 Murdock nodded. "Your love cured me," he said, hand over his heart.
"That's very romantic of you, Face."

 "That's not exactly what I was thinking when I made that up," Face
admitted, "but if that's the way you want to play it, it'll do." Actually,
he'd known Murdock was going to be away from the V.A. quite awhile on this
case, and if he started acting weird, Face wanted there to be a logical
explanation for it.

 "Hannibal, you're Paul's father, Wallace Huntington. You're successful in
the antiques business. You might want to read up a little on Asian art
since that's the bulk of your trade."

 Hannibal nodded, flipping through the folder of information Face had
provided. He'd decided to let Face take the lead on this since he was the
one going inside. Everything about Face's background had to be consistent
and believable, and the best way for him to be comfortable with it would
be if he'd made it up himself.

 "B.A.," Face continued, rubbing again at his neck, "you're Calvin
Hopkins. You're Wallace Huntington's valet and driver. You're also a buyer
for his business, so you need to do some reading up on Asian art too. And
we'll get you some new suits." He slid a file folder over in front of B.A.

 B.A. looked at the folder and removed a piece of paper from the front.
"What's this? Huntington Antiques? What're these little curlicues all over
the place?"

 "Ah," said Face, a bit uncomfortably. "That's the company logo. It, uh,
needs to be painted on the side of the van."

 B.A. opened his mouth to object, but observing the pinched look Face
often developed when he was suffering a bad migraine, he decided not to
say anything. Face had worked hard on his scam, wanting everything to be
perfect. Well, this time he'd go along with it. If it ruined the finish on
his van, he could always beat Face to a bloody pulp later. "Okay," he
said, letting the subject drop.

 "I've got you a nice place in Bel Air, Hannibal," said Face. "The owners
are gone for at least a year, and all the records will show it's being
leased by Wallace Huntington while he sets up an office here on the west
coast. And Wallace is okay with the relationship between Rich and Paul,
just disappointed that Paul didn't follow him into the antiques business."

 "You've thought of everything," said Hannibal. "Good job."

 "Thanks," said Face, pleased by the praise. "Tomorrow Murdock and I are
moving into a small apartment near Wright's office."

 "It's not like you to give up a cushy place like this," observed
Hannibal, looking around at the beautifully appointed apartment.

 "It has to be real. Rich and Paul couldn't be expected to afford this
much, at least until Rich gets some promotions. I've already put down the
first and last month's rent and damage deposit on the new place, and I'm
starting work the day after tomorrow. And Murdock, you'd better get busy
designing something. Starting next month, you're paying half the rent."

 "Oh, Face, a place of our own! Something I've always dreamed of!" said
Murdock dreamily, causing B.A. to roll his eyes dramatically.

 "Don't get your hopes up. It's really, really small," said Face.

 "Is there room for our children?"

 "Only if we keep `em in a drawer."

 Pulling up in front of a small, dingy apartment building, B.A. grimaced.
Grimy yellow awnings topped tiny windows that looked that they hadn't been
washed since the building was constructed. Only three stories high, the
brick building was dwarfed by the much larger office buildings that
surrounded it. There was no courtyard, there were no trees, there wasn't
even a flower pot at the front entrance. It was drab beyond measure.

 "You sure this is the right address?" B.A. asked, squinting at the
numbers on the front of the building.

 "This is it," Hannibal assured him.

 "Don't look like no place Face would ever live," said B.A. doubtfully.

 "Face wouldn't live here if it were the last building on earth," said
Hannibal cheerily. "But Rich Todd would because it's all he can afford."

 From an open and unscreened third floor window, Murdock leaned halfway
out to wave at the van before Face grabbed his belt and pulled him back.

 "Idiot, you're gonna fall out the window!" Face exclaimed.

 "Aw, Face," said Murdock, "I didn't know you cared so much."

 "I haven't taken out insurance on you yet," said Face, "so don't go
making me a widower already." He bent to open a box and remove the few
items that were in it and place them in a kitchen cupboard.

 "This is a cute little place," said Murdock.

 "It's a rat trap, and you know it!" said Face. "Probably a fire trap,
too."

 "Love makes everything look better," said Murdock.

 "It's not doing much for that cockroach," said Face with a grimace,
flinging a wad of newspaper at the insect as it fled across the kitchen
floor and under the sink.

 "Gee, I hope we don't have to have a pet deposit!" said Murdock, looking
around under the sink. "It's okay, little guy, you can come out. We can
all be friends."

 "You're not making pets of the roaches!" Face exclaimed as he crossed the
room to open the door for B.A. and Hannibal. "They come out, they die. Got
it?"

 "He's just kidding," Murdock whispered softly to the underside of the
sink. "He's not really such a bad guy. I'm sure we'll all get along just
fine."

 "Where's the bedroom?" asked Hannibal as he helped B.A. wrestle a
mattress into the apartment.

 Face gestured to a curtained area on the other side of the room. "Right
there."

 As they deposited the mattress on the floor behind the curtain, B.A.
looked around.

 "This it?" he asked.

 "I told you it was small," said Face.

 "Need help with the rest of the furniture," announced B.A. as he headed
for the door. "Where's the fool?"

 "Making friends with the local fauna," said Face. "Hey, Murdock, c'mon!"
he called.

 "Emily's a real nice girl," said Murdock, closing the cabinet door and
standing.

 "You named the roach?" said Face. "Are you nuts?" Then he smacked his
forehead. "What am I saying?" he said. "I forgot who I was talking to."

 "Just remember," said Hannibal with a grin, "you're the one who
proposed!"

 "C'mon," said B.A. gruffly. "Ain't stickin' around here waitin' for no
roaches to crawl up my leg. Gonna get this stuff unloaded and get out of
here. Get that dumb sign painted on the side o' my van." He glared
meaningfully at Face then smiled as Face turned away to struggle with a
hopelessly stuck window. "Then I'm goin' back to my nice air-conditioned
home in Bel Air!"

 "Alright, alright, don't rub it in!" said Face grumpily, abandoning the
window and following him out of the room. "You can be really cruel
sometimes, you know."

 Chapter 3

 Dan Carlson stood and extended his hand as Face entered the office. "Hey,
Richard, welcome to Wright and Sons," he said, shaking Face's hand warmly.
His cultured British accent and friendly tone made Face feel genuinely
welcome.

 Face had always liked British accents, though he couldn't really say why.
Maybe because they seemed to speak of the fine breeding and superior
education he'd always felt he lacked.

 "It's good to be here," said Face. "I can't tell you how glad I was to
get the job. Thanks."

 "I'm glad you got it, too," said Dan, "but it's probably Mr. Wright you
should be thanking. I present the list of final candidates, and he makes
the choice. But I'm glad he chose you. I told him I thought you were hands
down the best man for the job."

 "Thanks," said Face, pleased that his aw shucks charm and impressive, if
fictional, resume had done the trick again.

 Dan turned as another man entered the room. "You remember Keith Clark?"
he asked.

 "Yes," said Face, extending his hand. Keith had been the other person on
the interview team. Though their demeanor in the office gave no evidence
of it, Face knew that Keith and Dan were a couple, one of Wright's success
stories. Hounded from pillar to post in the south where they'd been living
before, they'd found refuge, success, and happiness with Wright and Sons.
Dan had become the company's personnel director and Keith its publicity
coordinator. In return for Wright's kindness, they'd become two of his
staunchest supporters, and because they were respected in the business
world, their endorsement of him prevented others from falling away in the
wake of the accusations made by his detractors. Though only a junior
executive, Face was to share an office with Dan and Keith. He knew they
were grooming him for bigger things.

 They were an unlikely couple. Only slightly taller than Face, Dan was a
robust black man whose energetic demeanor and warm smile immediately put
others at ease. Being both black and gay, and having an accent that
immediately labeled him a foreigner, Dan had had a particularly rough time
in the small Mississippi town where he'd taken a job upon moving to the
United States fifteen years ago.

 In contrast, Keith was well over six feet tall and so thin that Face
couldn't see how he ever found clothes that fit. His blond hair was thin
on top and graying at the sides, and steel blue eyes that missed little
looked out from under pale eyebrows. Keith took Face's hand in a
surprisingly strong grip for a man who looked so gentle. "It's good to
have you on board, Richard," he said, his soft southern accent another
interesting contrast between him and his partner.

 "Please, call me Rich," said Face.

 "Well, Rich, why don't you put down your briefcase over there, and let's
take you in to meet Mr. Wright," said Dan. "He asked me to let him know
when you got here. In the meantime, Keith will put together some
background information to help you get oriented before you start working."


 "Great," said Face, anxious to meet the man he was here to investigate.

 Walking down a long corridor with thick carpeting, Face admired the
luxurious appointments of the offices they passed. Fine artwork decorated
walls that were painted in soft hues of peach and lavender and sported
real woodwork. This company belonged to a man who preferred luxury to
practicality, who surrounded himself with beauty, and that was something
Face could appreciate. It wouldn't be such a bad thing to come here every
day after spending a night listening to roaches scurrying around his
hell-hole of an apartment.

 At the end of the corridor, Dan knocked softly on a door and then opened
it. Across the room behind a massive oak desk sat Ted Wright. Looking up,
he smiled when he saw Dan and Face.

 "Dan! I see you've brought Mr. Todd around." He stood and came around his
desk, offering Face his hand. Face quickly took in the personal computer
and the banks of filing cabinets along the walls. This would be a good
place to start his investigations.

 "Rich," said Face. "I'm really pleased to meet you, Mr. Wright." Wright's
hand was cool and slightly clammy in Face's grasp, and he had to stifle
the urge to wipe his own hand on his trousers when Wright released him.

 "Thanks, Dan," said Wright. "Why don't you leave us to get acquainted for
a bit? I know you're busy trying to fill that service representative
position."

 "Sure, Mr. Wright," said Dan, stepping to the door. "C'mon back when
you're done here, Rich, and I'll show you around."

 "Thanks," said Face. So that was how things were around here. Everyone
called the boss Mr. Wright, but he was on a first name basis with them. An
interesting way to seem friendly and still keep people at a distance.
Well, the best route to success with that kind of guy was sucking up, and
Face was good at that. He put on his most winning smile and looked
wide-eyed at Wright as he took a seat in the soft leather chair Wright
gestured for him to sit in. Interestingly, Wright took a seat next to him
rather than going back around to his own chair.

 Wright was a large man, strongly built though not at all overweight, and
even sitting down, Face had to look up to meet his eyes. His hair was jet
black, though like Keith's, it was graying at the temples. His skin was
very pale, not the swarthy kind of complexion Face usually associated with
someone with such dark hair and eyes. Wright's eyes crinkled at the
corners when he smiled. They were deep-set and black and glittered like
chips of obsidian. Face thought they looked cold. But Wright's tone was
hearty, and he seemed genuinely glad to be meeting with Face.

 "Tell me all about yourself," said Wright. "I understand you had rather a
rough time of it back east."

 Face launched into his carefully prepared and rehearsed story. He had had
Murdock drill him on it so many times in the last couple of days, he
slipped easily into the role of Rich Todd, right down to the angry tremor
in his voice as he described the betrayal he felt as friends and
colleagues rejected him after they found he'd taken a flamboyant,
outspoken fashion designer as his lover. Wright listened intently,
watching Face closely as he described the ordeal of being humiliated by
his boss, fired without cause, and disowned by what little family he had.
Face finished his story and looked up at Wright, eyes wide and guileless.
"That's why I'm so grateful you've offered me this job, Mr. Wright. I can
finally be me, be what I am, without having to hide it from anybody. This
is the kind of firm I want to work for. One that respects everyone, that
treats all its employees the same. It's such a shame there are so few
people like you."

 Wright smiled widely, and Face knew he'd bought the story. Of course,
he'd told it pretty convincingly, if he did say so himself. "Well, young
man," said Wright, "that's a ringing endorsement of equal opportunity
employment if I ever heard one. I'm only too happy to offer you a job
here. I do pride myself on working for the underdog, but of course, in
return I expect you to be a loyal and hard-working employee. I still have
a business to run." 

 Face nodded his understanding. Wright reached over suddenly to lay a hand
on Face's arm. Face jumped, and Wright pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry,
Mr. Wright," Face apologized. "I...I had a couple of bad experiences back
east, and I guess I'm still a little jumpy. I hope you won't take it
personally."

 "No harm done," Wright said soothingly. "Did somebody beat you up, son?"

 "Yes," Face answered. That was an easy enough answer because it was true.
He'd been beaten up dozens of times and would probably be beaten up some
more. It was the nature of his work, sometimes. It was also true that he
didn't like to be touched, and it made him jumpy when people he didn't
know were overly friendly. But he knew his involuntary reaction had been
stupid. It had raised a question he wasn't prepared to answer. He'd have
to be more careful to control his reaction in the future.

 "Well, you should feel safer out here. Overall, people around here are
much more accepting of alternative lifestyles."

 "Yes, I've noticed that," said Face. But not much, he thought to himself,
remembering the speculative look and almost indecently personal questions
he'd gotten from his landlord when he'd put Paul Huntington's name on the
lease as next of kin as well as roommate.

 "Well," said Wright, rising, "let's get you back out to Dan and let him
show you the ropes. I want you to know, though, that my door is always
open. If you have questions or problems, or if you even just want to talk,
you can always come back here and see me."

 "Thanks, Mr. Wright," said Face. He knew he'd be making frequent excuses
to visit Ted Wright. He needed a peek at the contents of some of those
file cabinets.

 Chapter 4

 Hearing keys jingling, Murdock turned from the stove and glanced at the
clock. It was seven thirty. Face had been on the job for two weeks now,
and he'd worked late every night, coming home with armloads of files and
manuals to study for the legitimate part of the job as well as the bits
and pieces of things he'd managed to collect for the job the team had been
hired to do. Murdock smiled to himself when he heard Face cursing softly
as he fumbled with and dropped the keys in the dark corridor. He did that
every night. Spoon in hand, Murdock pulled the door open as Face
straightened. Face walked past him into the apartment, dropping onto the
table the files he couldn't get into his briefcase.

 "Dinner ready?" Face asked.

 "Well, I like that!" huffed Murdock as he closed the door.

 Face turned to him, puzzled.

 "No hi, honey, I'm home? No gee, you're a sight for sore eyes, dear? No
oh, the place looks wonderful? No hello kiss?"

 "You're dripping spaghetti sauce on the floor," observed Face, loosening
his tie.

 "Men!" exclaimed Murdock dramatically, rolling his eyes as he headed back
to the kitchen.

 Following him, Face reached for a paper towel to wipe the floor. "You do
look very fetching in that apron, dear," he said.

 "Don't try to change the subject," said Murdock, adjusting the flame
under the simmering sauce. "Every day it's the same thing. You come home,
eat, work, and go to sleep. It's always, `Maybe later,' or `Not tonight,
dear, I have a headache.'"

 Face laughed, some of the day's tension easing. He looked forward to
Murdock's goofiness at the end of a long day of keeping his guard up,
saying and doing all the right things, sneaking a quick peek at
confidential records whenever he could. He was tense, too keyed up to
sleep most nights as he mentally reviewed his plan, trying to fit the bits
and pieces he was learning into a whole pattern. It was a lot of work, and
he didn't know how Hannibal did it with such seeming ease.

 Returning to the kitchen and tossing the paper towel, he reached into the
cupboard for some aspirin.

 "Got another migraine?" asked Murdock.

 "No, just a garden variety headache," Face answered. "Neck's stiff. Do we
have time to go for a quick run before dinner?"

 "Sure, if you want," Murdock answered. He turned the flame down low under
the sauce and put a lid on it carefully, winking at Face. "Don't want
Emily to fall in while we're gone," he said.

 That night Murdock brandished a check made out to Paul Huntington as he
poured them coffee after dinner.

 "What's that?" Face asked.

 "My first paycheck. I sold a couple of designs today."

 "Really?" Face was genuinely pleased. "Good for you! Which ones were
they? Who'd you sell `em to? Tell me it wasn't that feathered job you were
drawing. Surely nobody wants to look like a purple chicken!"

 "My purple chicken dress, as you insist on calling it, remains woefully
underappreciated. However, they bought my designs for a matching vest and
jacket, and they want more," said Murdock. He looked almost surprised at
his success.

 "I told you you were good at this!" said Face, sipping his coffee.

 "Well, it's only a very small firm with a local clientele," said Murdock
with a self-deprecating smile.

 "Doesn't matter," said Face. "It's a start. Pretty soon you'll be giving
the big boys a run for their money!"

 "Are you forgetting this isn't for real?" Murdock asked gently.

 "No," sighed Face. "I'm not. But this can be real for you if you want it
to be. You have a talent, Murdock. Wouldn't you like to develop that, make
a good living at it so you can have anything you want to have?"

 "What makes you think I don't already have everything I want?"

 "You're living with me in a roach-infested studio apartment, Murdock.
When you're not here, you're in a room at the V.A. Is that really what you
want? If you became successful at this, you could own this building and
several others like it."

 Murdock leaned forward and looked at Face intently. "Is that what you
want, Face? You thinking you want to work your way up in a firm that
invests its profits in drugs and regularly misplaces its employees? So you
can get rich and have anything you want?"

 Stung, Face glanced up angrily. "Of course not." Picking up his coffee
cup, he walked to the window and looked out at the city street below. For
a long time he said nothing, and Murdock didn't break the silence. "This
is the way it was supposed to be when I got out of the army," Face finally
said. "I was gonna finish my education, get a good job, work my way up. I
was gonna be a successful businessman, have a nice house, a pretty wife.
Hell, I might even have gone to church," he finished with a short laugh.

 "You like this job, don't you?" said Murdock, coming to stand beside him.

 Face contemplated the dregs of his coffee, swirling them around in the
cup gently as he considered his answer. "Yeah," he said. "In a lot of
ways, I do. Keith and Dan are really great guys. They want me to be
successful. There's a routine there, a sameness that I guess I'm kind of
comfortable with. It's work I understand, and I'm good at it. Knowing
where their profits are going, what Wright's involved in...of course I
don't like it. But if it were any other firm, someplace honest, well, I'd
jump at the chance to work there." He laughed a little, looking back out
the window. "Sounds kind of incongruous, doesn't it? A con man wanting an
honest job." He sighed, stretching his neck. "Sometimes, I just want to be
normal. Does that sound stupid?"

 "Not to me," Murdock answered. "Sometimes I just want to be normal, too."

 "You're not on the run," said Face, looking up at him. "You could stop
ferrying us around, develop your business, concentrate on getting yourself
out of that stupid hospital. You don't have to be like us. You could be
somebody. Why don't you do it?"

 Murdock sat on the windowsill and looked at Face thoughtfully. "I already
am somebody," he said. "And so are you. Maybe not the somebodies we wanted
to be, but maybe the somebodies we need to be."

 Face rolled his eyes. "Don't do that Sphinx thing, Murdock," he said. "I
hate it when you talk in riddles. Say what you mean."

 "Life sucks," said Murdock, standing and taking Face's cup. "Get used to
it."

 "Well, that I can understand," said Face with a sigh as Murdock took
their dishes to the sink.

 He followed Murdock to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. "I'll wash,"
he said.

 "I'll take care of it," said Murdock. "You get the door. Keith Clark and
Dan Carlson are here."

 "How do you..." Face began, but he was interrupted by a knocking on the
door. "You got ESP or something?" he finished.

 "I saw them coming up the front steps," Murdock answered.

 Pulling open the door, he acted surprised to see the men on his doorstep.
In fact, he was surprised they'd come to his apartment.

 "Hey, Rich!" said Keith. "Hope you don't mind us dropping in on you like
this."

 "No, no problem. Come on in," said Face.

 "Need to get that light in the hall fixed," said Dan as he entered. "I
think I kicked somebody's dog on the way up the hall."

 "Ah, that's just the neighbor," said Murdock as he entered the room
wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "His wife's always kicking him out, and
he has to sleep on the doorstep `til she lets him back in."

 "Nice to see you again, Paul," said Dan as he shook Murdock's hand.

 "Cute little place," said Keith, also accepting Murdock's hand. "Reminds
me of one we had in Mississippi."

 Dan rolled his eyes. "The one with cockroaches the size of poodles? Yeah,
that was a charming place," he responded. "Weenie boy there wouldn't have
anything to do with `em. Made me get out of bed every night and chase the
little buggers back down the drain."

 "Well, you are the oldest," said Keith. "It's your job! I just wanted you
to feel like you were still useful!"

 Murdock and Face exchanged an amused glance. Murdock could see why Face
enjoyed these two.

 Dan looked at the pile of folders Face had placed on the floor in the
corner while they ate. "Look," he said, nudging Dan, "I told you he was
sneaking out of there with files. Let's go see what he's got."

 Murdock looked at Face, but he seemed unconcerned. He'd obviously already
hidden anything he wasn't supposed to have. Dan and Keith made a show of
riffling through the files, nodded sagely at each other, and turned back
to the others.

 "Well, Rich, it's only been two weeks and you've already broken the first
rule of the corporate jungle," said Dan.

 "What's that?" asked Face, mentally reviewing the company manual he'd
read.

 "You're working too damned hard!" Keith exclaimed.

 Standing beside Face, Murdock laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
"See, I told you!" he said. "He never has time for me anymore."

 "Can't let that happen, Rich," Keith said to Face, who looked
embarrassed. "Gotta have some balance. Sounds like you've got a good
relationship goin' here. Don't want to neglect it."

 "Listen," said Dan, "we thought you guys might like to go get a drink. It
is Friday, after all, no work tomorrow. Have you been around to that
tavern down the street?"

 "No," said Face, his eyes straying to the pile of folders.

 Dan caught the look. "For crying out loud, Rich! he exclaimed. "Surely
you didn't think we expected you to go through all those folders just
because we gave them to you! They're more for reference than anything
else. You don't have to memorize the bloody things!"

 Murdock thrust Face's jacket at him and pushed him toward the door.
"We're going!" he said. He looked at Dan and said, "He hasn't taken me out
in weeks and weeks. I'm starting to feel neglected."

 As the evening wore on, Face was glad he'd accepted the invitation. His
headache eased, and he found himself enjoying the company. Murdock slipped
easily into his role, discussing fashion with the others, drawing quick
sketches on the back of cocktail napkins, his natural warmth and humor
drawing out the other men.

 "Where'd you find that one? He's a real kick!" Dan asked when Murdock
excused himself to go order another round of drinks.

 "Oddly enough," said Face, telling the story they'd concocted, "he was
doing a color analysis on my girlfriend at the department store one day. I
walked in, took one look at him, and it was love at first sight. I
couldn't believe it myself at first. Of course, it was hard on my
girlfriend. I felt really bad about that, but there was no denying the
attraction." He smiled and stood to allow Murdock to scoot back into the
booth.

 "Funny how it hits you, isn't it?" said Keith. "I was married when I met
Dan. I'd done all the things a man is supposed to do: joined the service,
found a nice wife, had a couple of children. All my life I told myself
that if I just acted like I was expected to act, I'd get over this
attraction I felt for other men. And I did love my wife. She was a good
woman, a good mother. But after Dan took a job where I worked and we got
to know each other, I realized one day I wasn't in love with my wife and
never had been. It was like Dan filled this empty spot I didn't even know
I had. God knows, I fought it as long as I could. I'd never known how hard
life could be `til then. Small town Mississippi isn't very open-minded
about same-sex relationships." He picked up his beer and drank.

 "Added to that was the obvious complication of being a mixed-race
couple," Dan continued, picking up the story with a compassionate glance
at his partner. "Also not a very popular thing in small-town Mississippi.
In short, we lost almost all our friends, Keith was kicked out of his
church, and I was accidentally run down in a parking lot one night. We
moved several times, but we never felt welcome or safe. After Keith
was...attacked...one night, we decided to get the hell out of the whole
state. We came here on our last bit of money, looking for any kind of work
we could get. We were lucky to meet up with one of Mr. Wright's recruiters
at a job fair. What was that guy's name?"

 "Phillip," I think, said Keith. "Phillip Rudman."

 Next to him, Face felt Murdock stiffen. This was the name of the man
whose father had hired them. "I don't think I've met him," said Face.
"Have I?"

 "No," said Dan. "He's actually been gone quite awhile. I heard he was
back east doing some recruiting there and got hired away by some other
firm."

 "Hm. You think there's another firm back east like Wright and Sons? I
sure couldn't find one."

 "Yeah," agreed Keith. "That was a bit odd, wasn't it? He seemed like the
perfect spokesman for the firm. I was surprised he'd even be interested in
working for someone else."

 "Yeah," said Dan. "On the other hand, weenie-boy got his job, so I
suppose we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."

 "I'm a little curious about something," said Face. "Who are the sons in
Wright and Sons?"

 Dan laughed. "That's a bit of a misnomer, for sure," he said. "Ted Wright
actually is one of the sons. His old man started the firm in the thirties.
There was another son who was supposed to inherit half the firm, but I
don't know what ever happened to him. That was way before our time."

 Looking across the room, Keith said, "Well, speak of the devil and here
he comes!"

 Murdock had already spotted him several minutes earlier when he'd gone up
to order the drinks and had been watching him ever since. Ted Wright was
standing at the bar, chatting amiably with the person standing next to
him, but his eyes kept drifting to their table, watching the men chat, his
gaze lingering on Face. Catching Wright's eye, Keith beckoned him over.
Excusing himself, Wright came over to their table.

 "How are you all doing tonight?" he asked, standing at the end of the
table. "I'm glad to see you aren't burning the midnight oil in the office,
Rich. I like my people to get out and have some fun."

 "Why don't you join us, Mr. Wright?" said Keith.

 Murdock and Face slid down to make room for Mr. Wright, and Face felt
Murdock's arm come up around his shoulders. Murdock was the only person
Face ever felt very comfortable allowing to touch him, but he still
stiffened for a moment. Reminding himself that they were a couple, he
relaxed as Murdock pulled him closer.

 "You must be Paul Huntington," Wright said.

 Murdock shook his hand and exchanged the usual pleasantries. The rest of
the evening passed pleasantly enough, though by necessity the conversation
was fairly general. Face didn't want to arouse Wright's suspicions by
asking too many pointed questions. True to form, however, Murdock did ask
about the other son in Wright and Sons and was treated to a sad story
about Andrew Wright's sudden untimely demise in a hunting accident shortly
before their father's death. "I still think it was Andy's death that
finally killed my father," Wright said as he concluded the story. "He
never really recovered from the shock of it."

 "That's a shame," said Face. In truth, he hadn't been listening that
closely to the story because he was aware that Wright's thigh was pressing
closer and closer to his own, and it was making him kind of nervous. Face
glanced at his watch and declared that it was time to be getting home.

 "It's been great seeing you all out having a good time," said Wright.
"That's what team work is all about. You work hard, you play hard. And
sometimes you play harder than you work. Right?"

 "Yes, sir," answered Face, though he was pretty sure Hannibal wouldn't
agree with that assessment.

 Dan and Keith headed in the opposite direction, but Wright walked them
all the way to front door of their building. Heading up the stairs, they
entered the third floor corridor where they promptly tripped over the
neighbor. "What the hell's the matter with the lights around here?" Face
asked irritably as he groped around on the floor for the keys he'd
dropped. "I've replaced that fucking bulb three times since we moved in,
and it doesn't last any longer than it takes for me to get in the
apartment and come back out again."

 "Emily doesn't like lights," said Murdock.

 "Tell me you're not following me around loosening the bulbs!" exclaimed
Face as he finally found the keys and eventually inserted the correct one
in the doorknob.

 "You wound me!" gasped Murdock. "Would I endanger you for a mere insect?"

 "I wouldn't be surprised," Face grumbled as he went in.

 Murdock followed him but turned and stuck his head out in the corridor
before he closed the door. "Good night, Emily," he whispered. "'Night,
Colonel. Get what you came for?"

 "Got it," said Hannibal, picking himself up from the doorway the forgiven
neighbor had only recently vacated. "If you get anything tomorrow, leave
it in the same place."

 "Righto, Colonel."

 "Tell him to screw the damned light bulb back in on the way out," Face
muttered behind him.

 Chapter 5 For two months Face worked diligently at his job, impressing
Dan and Keith with his skill and dedication. He was also called into
Wright's office from time to time to help him out personally. If anybody
thought it odd that a young man being groomed for an executive position
was doing secretarial duties in the boss's office while the secretary sat
outside with nothing to do, they didn't say anything.

 Face didn't mind the secretarial duties. He could type and file with the
best of them, and he knew at least some of the information he needed was
in this office. Wright chatted pleasantly with him, sharing bits of trivia
about the office and the staff. For all the filing he did, there was one
cabinet directly behind Wright's desk that he never was allowed to get
into. It was kept locked, and Wright had the only key. Wright explained it
away by saying that was where he kept his confidential personnel files,
stuff that was for his eyes only. Wright didn't leave him alone much, so
on the occasions he did, Face was quick to pick the lock and go through
the files. He couldn't be seen carrying anything out of the office, so
whatever he found he had to memorize quickly. 

 Phillip Rudd's personnel file didn't mention an assignment back east. The
notes were cryptic, with words such as "satisfying," "flexible," and
"exceeds expectations," that could be interpreted any number of ways.
Interestingly, though, toward the end of file, Face found words like
"reluctant," "fearful," "uncooperative," and "no longer working very hard
to please." The file ended with a single word: "terminated." Puzzled, Face
returned the file and relocked the drawer as he heard Wright's footsteps
approach. He busied himself at the other file cabinet as Wright returned
to the office.

 As Wright entered and walked past him, Face felt the hand that brushed
against his back and stifled his natural reaction. Wright seemed to be
finding a lot of excuses to touch him. It was always very innocent. A pat
on the back, a hand sliding across his shoulders or down his arm was
nothing he could fault. Still, it made him uncomfortable. After his return
from the prison camp in Vietnam, he'd had uncontrollable reactions when
people surprised him with an unexpected touch. More than once he'd found
himself crouched in a corner with Hannibal kneeling in front of him,
trying to talk him out of it. Thankfully, that extreme and humiliating
reaction had faded over the years, and Hannibal and the others had learned
not to touch him when he couldn't see what they were going to do. He'd
become comfortable with their touch over time, but he still jumped when
others laid hands on him. Knowing this about himself, he decided his
discomfort with Wright was more his fault than his employer's, and he
didn't mention it to Murdock or the others.

 Wright's office was practically a home by itself. He had a private
washroom, a hideabed sofa, a small refrigerator, and a microwave oven. He
seldom had to leave the room, which sometimes made it difficult for Face
to accomplish anything other than the job he'd been hired to do. He knew
this case was going to stretch on longer than he had anticipated, but
truth to tell, he was rather enjoying coming to work during the day and
playing house with Murdock at night.

 They were spending more and more time in the company of Dan and Keith,
sometimes entertaining them in their apartment, sometimes going to the
house Dan and Keith shared in the suburbs. Face found himself less and
less inclined to think of them as the villains in this case and resolved
to try to shield them from the repercussions when he finally brought
Wright and his company down. He wasn't sure why he felt such a bond with
these men. Perhaps it was because like them, he'd been given a raw deal,
and when they had finally gotten the justice that so far eluded him, he
didn't want to see them hurt again. When he brought up the matter with
Murdock, Murdock agreed that it would be nice to shield them if he could
but cautioned him not to let his feelings cloud his judgment.

 The normal routine was that Face would sleep in the bed and Murdock on
the floor. It was only fair, said Face, since Murdock was so determined to
make friends with the roaches. If they were going to come out to play at
night, he sure as hell didn't want them walking across him. Murdock
agreed, and it was almost three months into their marriage that Murdock
woke him up in the middle of the night.

 "Face?"

 "What? What's wrong?" Face asked, dragging himself up out of a sound
sleep.

 "I think I've killed Emily."

 "Huh?"

 "I rolled over and heard a crunch."

 "Well I'm sorry, Murdock. Sort of. But what do you want me to do? I'm not
getting up in the middle of the night to hold a funeral service for a
roach. Flush her."

 Murdock sat on the side of the bed. "I think her brothers are coming for
me. I can hear them in the walls."

 "Oh, for heaven's sake!" Face sat up and listened. It did rather sound
like there was more than the usual number of roaches scurrying about. "Oh,
alright, get in," he said irritably.

 As Murdock climbed in next to him and settled down to sleep, Face
remembered that it had been a long time since he'd had another person in
his bed. He hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid in the night like roll
over on Murdock and start kissing him. But he had to admit, as the
evenings finally grew cooler, it was nice to have another warm body in the
bed.

 As they spent more and more time with Keith and Dan, and occasionally
with Ted Wright, they found it easier to pretend to be the couple they
were supposed to be. Actually, Murdock had taken to it like a duck to
water, but fantasizing had always been easier for him than it was for
Face, so it was he who took the lead in making their relationship
believable. Considerately, he never touched Face in front of the others
without first subtly telegraphing his intention. As time went by, Face
discovered that he could anticipate Murdock's touch and even looked
forward to it. He tried not to think too much about why that was so. Or
about why they shared the middle of the bed now instead of hovering at the
far sides of it as they'd done at first.

 Chapter 6

 "Well, what've we got?" asked Hannibal as he settled into an easy chair
and puffed his cigar.

 At the house in Bel Air, the team was gathered in the living room sorting
through all the evidence Face had gathered. It was a woefully small pile
considering the time and effort that had gone into collecting it, and Face
knew it. "Well, not much," he admitted, settling himself next to Murdock
on the couch. "From everything I can see, the business itself seems to be
honest. Some of the tax deductions are a little iffy, but no more than
you'd expect. He could be siphoning some money off the top. It looks to me
like he's paying some pretty hefty salaries to people who are supposed to
be recruiting investors or employees across the country, but even Dan says
he doesn't know them personally, and he's the one who does the hiring."

 "So how does he account for them?" Hannibal asked, leaning forward to
sift through some of the papers on the coffee table.

 "Wright told him he'd hired them independently because they reported to
him and him alone. Dan says he plays a lot of things close to the vest.
He's perfectly friendly, but he doesn't tell everybody everything," Face
answered. "I can ask him a lot of questions, and sometimes he'll go on
forever about the topic and other times he'll just tell me it's none of my
concern. He keeps promising to teach me everything I need to know, but so
far I don't feel like I'm learning a lot."

 "But you're becoming quite the little junior executive," said Hannibal,
his voice holding a hint of a challenge.

 "What's that supposed to mean?" said Face.

 "Nothing, kid," replied Hannibal, leaning back in his chair. "I just want
to make sure you aren't getting so caught up in the novelty of having a
key to the executive washroom that you're forgetting why you're really
there. This isn't much to show for three months' work."

 Face opened his mouth to shoot back an angry reply but bit it back when
Murdock laid a gentle hand on his arm. Hannibal's misgivings were
legitimate; it wasn't much to show for three months' work. Hannibal had
shown a lot of faith in him by allowing him to set up this plan, and it
was his responsibility to either make it work or admit defeat and hand the
reins over to Hannibal. And if he were honest with himself, he knew he was
taking a guilty pleasure in going to work every day. He'd admitted as much
to Murdock before, and he knew he'd have to admit it again.

 Hannibal hadn't missed Murdock's gesture or its effect, but he said
nothing, only taking a pull on his cigar and waiting for Face's reply.
Studying his hands, Face said, "I suppose it doesn't look like I'm getting
much accomplished. And I guess I am enjoying having access to the
executive washroom and everything that comes with it. But it's not that
easy getting the information. I worm what I can out of Dan and Keith, but
you know, they're working in that office, not just sitting around, and I
can't always be asking them questions. They have to work, and they expect
me to work too. And Mr. Wright...well, he doesn't leave me alone much. I
don't think he's quite sure of me yet." Finally, he looked up, meeting
Hannibal's gaze directly. "I'm doing my best, but if you think it's not
good enough, I'm willing to step aside. I haven't forgotten why we're
here."

 Hannibal nodded. "That's all I wanted to know. What's next?"

 Face felt Murdock's arm come up around his shoulders, and he
unconsciously leaned into the quick embrace without even registering the
fact that nobody from Wright and Sons was around. "We've been invited to
spend the long weekend with Wright at his estate," he said. "Sort of a
working vacation. Dan and Keith will be there, too. I'm hoping maybe
there's something at his home that'll help us. I'm thinking maybe he keeps
the most incriminating stuff there where it's better guarded."

 "You sure that's a good idea?" Hannibal asked. "He's got armed guards
patrolling the perimeter of his property." The estate covered several
acres of sparsely populated property overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
Security was tight, Wright had explained when he'd invited them, because
over the years he'd gotten death threats from right-wing extremist groups
who took exception to his liberal policies. He wanted to be sure he and
his guests were safe.

 "I don't see how we can say no," said Face. "Dan said someone as new as I
am hardly ever gets invited out there and that he must think a lot of me
to do so this soon."

 "Face," Hannibal began.

 Face raised his hands to forestall the objection. "I know, I know, it's
all bullshit. I understand that. But I need to get on the inside and see
what he's got there. It may be just what we need."

 "Well, it's risky," said Hannibal. "If something goes wrong, if he finds
out who you really are, B.A. and I probably won't be able to help you.
You're right, though. If you haven't found what you need in the office
yet, it's probably not there. And if it's not there, it's probably at his
house. You'll have to go in. But be careful."

 "I'm always careful," Face answered.

 That was true. Of the four, he was the most naturally cautious, the least
likely to do something dangerous without first giving it careful
consideration. Knowing that, Hannibal was a little more inclined to give
his blessing to the operation.

 Two days later, Face and Murdock found themselves driving through a
quaint little town only a few miles from Wright's home. "Wow, the town
that time forgot," said Murdock as he scanned the old-fashioned
storefronts on the tree-lined main street. It looked like the town had
changed little since its birth in the thirties, an unusual little pocket
of rural America to exist so close to a large city.

 "Well, when you come down this weekend, remember that some of these
people could be in Wright's pocket," answered Face, less affected than his
friend by the nostalgic charm of the place. "Don't forget who you're
supposed to be."

 "Three days of togetherness, being a couple twenty-four hours as day,"
said Murdock dreamily. "Do you suppose our marriage can stand the strain?"

 Face laughed. "Just don't keep asking me if I love you."

 "Don't you?"

 Face rolled his eyes and turned his attention to passing the car in front
of them. 

 Pulling up to the gate, the men surveyed the defenses Wright had built
around his property. All the vegetation had been cleared around the
property for a hundred yards, and the perimeter was surrounded by a
ten-foot high fence topped with wicked-looking barbed wire. There was only
one way in or out, an iron gate with a manned guard box. Strategically
placed lights would illuminate the entire perimeter at night, and pairs of
armed guards made their way smartly around the grounds. And that was just
the part they could see.

 "Looks like a prison camp," Face observed quietly while the guard went
back into his box to check their identification.

 "Don't remind me," said Murdock uneasily.

 When their identification proved to be in order, both men were issued a
pass so they could come and go as they pleased, and the guard opened the
gate and waved them through. The imposing Greek-revival style house seemed
curiously out of place in the center of the fenced property, but it was a
beautiful home. Pretentious, but beautiful. At a short distance from the
house they could see a huge swimming pool and tennis and basketball
courts. Dan and Keith's car was already parked in the circular drive
before the house, and Face pulled his car up behind theirs.

 A real butler answered the door, their bags were taken to their room, and
they were ushered into the living room where Keith and Dan were already
nursing drinks and visiting with Ted Wright. Face looked around
appreciatively. Wright showed the same impeccable taste in furnishing and
decorating his home as he did his office. Furniture was constructed and
upholstered with the finest materials. Tastefully framed art decorated the
walls, and the large windows opened onto a spectacular view of the ocean.

 "I see you didn't have any trouble finding the place," said Mr. Wright.

 "No, none at all," Face replied. 

 "Why don't you all change into something comfortable and go enjoy
yourselves this afternoon," Wright suggested. "Dinner will be served at
six thirty, so you've got a good two hours to kill. I'm going to do a bit
of work in my office, but I'll join you later."

 The four of them were engaged in a basketball game which Face and Murdock
were winning hands down when Murdock looked up to see Ted Wright cross the
lawn and sit in a folding chair to watch them play. Face was busy trying
to steal the ball from Keith and didn't notice until he'd successfully
gotten the ball and moved it back up the court to pass it off to Murdock.
He spared the time for a quick smile and wave before he turned back to the
game just in time to be knocked flat by Dan.

 "Isn't that a foul or something?" he asked as Dan offered him a hand up.

 "Yeah, but I'll forgive you for getting in my way if you don't let it
happen again," Dan laughed, tossing him the ball. "Let's take a breather."

 Laughing, Face turned to pick up his water bottle and take a few gulps as
Murdock joined him. "Think we should let `em score a few points?" he asked
Murdock. "Yeah, why not," Murdock answered with a smile, knowing the men
could hear every word they were saying. "After all, they're old guys."

 "Y'know, if I could breathe, I'd come over there and make you take that
back, you young punk!" declared Dan.

 "Aw, c'mon, we'll go easy on you," said Face. "Next five minutes we'll go
one on two. If you can't score some points that way, you should probably
just kill yourselves and be done with it."

 "Don't be too cheeky, Rich," said Murdock, laughing. "They're both bigger
than you are."

 "Yeah, but I'm fast," said Face, unperturbed. "After all, I've been
dodging killer cockroaches for three months." So saying, he dashed out and
proceeded to run rings around Keith and Dan.

 "Jesus, how does he do that?" Keith asked Murdock when he rejoined the
game. "He's tough for a little guy, isn't he?" said Murdock. But his
attention was focused more on Ted Wright than on Face. Wright's eyes
followed Face wherever he went, and Murdock began to think maybe Face's
choice of spandex shorts and a tank top was not such a good idea, though
neither of them had thought anything of it when he'd pulled them on,
anxious to get a little exercise to try to work off the headache he'd been
developing. But the outfit showed off his trim shape to its best
advantage, and Wright had certainly noticed it.

 Just before dinner that night, Wright gave Murdock and Face a complete
tour of the house. Having already seen it before, Dan and Keith retired to
the den to watch the news. Murdock showed a great interest in Wright's
library and home office, going on about wanting a nice office of his own
to develop his designs, leaving Face relatively unbothered to study the
room and its contents. He knew they'd find a way to get back in there
before the night was over.

 Murdock made it a point to watch Wright, noticing how often Wright sat
staring at Face even when someone else was talking and how he stood very
close to him and often touched him. He knew Face's aversion to being
touched and could tell by the almost imperceptible tightening of Face's
jaw each time it happened that he was not comfortable with it. He wondered
how long it had been going on and why Face had not mentioned to him that
it was happening.

 As the evening wore on, Face grew more quiet and began to look a little
ragged. "What's wrong?" Murdock asked him as they descended the stairs
after their tour of the upstairs room.

 "Headache," Face said shortly.

 "Got your pills?"

 Face slowed, letting Wright get further ahead of them. "Yeah," he said,
"but I don't want to take anything yet. They make me sleepy, and I need to
get into that office and do some looking around."

 Murdock sighed. Face had switched medications several times in the last
few months trying to find something effective whose side effects he could
live with. The latest prescription worked provided he took it soon enough
and wasn't doing anything that required much concentration.

 "You gonna be okay without them?" Murdock asked.

 "I don't know. Maybe if I can get in there fast enough."

 They sat in the den with the others for what seemed a polite period of
time before slipping out. Wright saw them go out but didn't follow them
this time, as Dan had engaged him in conversation about the business. They
wandered in a path that seemed aimless but eventually led them to the
library. To their relief, it was empty, and Face quickly went to the
computer while Murdock pulled the curtains, lowered the lights, and
watched the door. Face turned on the computer and concentrated on hacking
into Wright's files. He was not having a whole lot of success, and as his
frustration grew, his headache worsened.

 "They're gonna be looking for us pretty soon," said Murdock from the
door. "How are you doing?"

 "My head's about to explode, and I can't find a damned thing, but other
than that I'm just dandy," Face replied, his voice reflecting his pain.

 "Let's get out of here and come back later, then," said Murdock.

 "Wait. Here's something," Face said.

 "What is it?"

 "Looks like bank account numbers," said Face. "And some names. I don't
recognize these names, though." Quickly inserting a disk, he downloaded
the file, slipped the disk into a pocket, and snapped off the computer. He
knew it was only a matter of time before Wright found out the file had
been accessed, but there was nothing he could do about it now. There
wasn't time. They both heard Wright's voice talking to someone on his
staff as he came up the hall.

 Wright strode into his office and stopped short. Paul Huntington was
kneeling next to a sofa on which Rich Todd lay prone, his jacket tossed
over the back of the sofa and his tie loosened. A glass of water sat on
the end table with a bottle of pills next to it. Rich was trying to press
his head into the sofa cushion as Paul rubbed his temples. Murdock glanced
up at Wright and turned his attention back to Face. "Sorry to be in your
office, Mr. Wright," he said. "Rich was feeling faint, and I wanted to get
him into a dark room and let him lie down awhile."

 "How long have you been here?" 

 "An hour or so, I think," said Murdock. "We tried just walking around,
but that wasn't working."

 "Does he have anything to take for it?"

 "Yes, but sometimes it takes awhile to take effect." Especially when he'd
taken it less than thirty seconds ago.

 "Do you mind if I use my computer for a bit?" said Wright. "I won't need
to turn on the lights."

 "Oh, sure," said Murdock. "We shouldn't even be in here bothering you. I
think I'll just try to get him back to our room now." He turned his
attention back to Face. "Richie, do you think you can make it back to the
room?"

 "Better hurry," Face said softly. "Think I'm gonna throw up again."

 Murdock helped Face stand, retrieved the jacket and pills, and said
goodnight to Wright on Face's behalf. As he helped Face out of the room
and into the hall, he heard a startled exclamation from the room behind
him and wondered grimly if they'd just been found out. Expecting to feel a
gun muzzle in his back at any moment, he assisted Face as he stumbled up
the stairs, eyes watering in the brighter light of the hallway. "That was
a great way to get us out of there, saying you were gonna throw up," said
Murdock as he opened the door to their room.

 "Wasn't kidding," Face said as he pulled away from Murdock and went into
the bathroom.

 Chapter 7

 Murdock lay propped on one elbow watching the sky lighten from the gray
of pre-dawn to a pink-shot turquoise. A cool breeze wafted in through the
open window, and he could hear the waves in the distance. He yawned
tiredly. It would have been a nice place to wake up if they hadn't been
under the roof of a man who killed anyone he even suspected of betraying
him and who by now had discovered that he had indeed been betrayed again.

 Next to him Face breathed the deep, even breaths of someone deeply
asleep. Despite a second dose of pain medication, a scalding shower, and
hours of massage on his back and neck, he'd fallen asleep only a couple of
hours before dawn and was not likely to waken soon. He lay curled on his
right side, his face pressed into the pillow.

 Murdock's eyes darted to the door as he heard footsteps approach. They
were soft and stealthy and would not have been heard by anyone not already
expecting them. Quickly he lay down, pulling the other man into his arms.
With a murmured apology he hooked one leg over Face's legs and pressed the
front of his body to Face's back. Their lives might depend upon the
believability of this scenario.

 Wright opened the door without knocking and saw what he was meant to see:
Paul Huntington wrapped protectively around his ailing lover. As the steps
approached the bed, Murdock raised his head and peered sleepily over
Face's shoulder. He looked surprised at the intrusion but not frightened.
Behind Wright, silhouetted in the light from the corridor, stood one of
Wright's men holding a tray with a coffeepot and cups. Concealed under the
tray, though, was a gun.

 "Mr. Wright?" Murdock asked hoarsely, his voice giving every indication
that he'd just woken. He cleared his throat. "Is everything okay?"

 "Yes," replied Wright, stepping closer. "I came by to see how Rich was
doing." He turned and signaled to the other man, who stepped inside and
brought the tray to the bedside table. He kept his back turned to the bed
as he set the tray down, and Murdock knew he was slipping the gun back
into his waistband. "I'm sorry I didn't knock," Wright continued, "but I
didn't want to disturb your sleep. I thought I'd just leave you some
coffee. Sometimes caffeine is good for headaches."

 "Thanks, Mr. Wright, but I hate to wake him. He was throwing up most of
the night and only fell asleep a few hours ago. We're both pretty wiped
out."

 Wright nodded, and Murdock's hold tightened fractionally as Wright's gaze
lingered perhaps a bit too long on Face's body.

 "Very well. We had some appointments to keep this morning, but I'll
reschedule them for later this afternoon. Why don't you two go back to
sleep. I'll see that you aren't disturbed."

 "Thanks, sir," said Murdock. "I know he's anxious to do a good job for
you." He stroked Face's upper arm gently. "Normally he's up with the sun,
but these migraines are really incapacitating."

 "Well, Rich is a good addition to my organization," said Wright, still
looking at Face. "I like to think I do right by my people. You just come
on down when you're ready."

 With a jerk of his head, Wright motioned for his man to leave before he
also turned and walked out. Breathing a sigh of relief, Murdock released
Face and lay on his back, willing himself to sleep. For the moment, the
danger had passed. They were making some headway now, but the next couple
of days would be difficult and they'd both need to be fresh. Wright was
suspicious, and that was not a good thing.

 Several hours later, Face entered Wright's office with a cup of coffee in
one hand and a handful of printouts in the other. Wright was in the middle
of a phone call but signaled Face to sit and wait while he finished. When
Wright hung up, he looked Face over appraisingly. Face knew he looked like
death warmed over. He felt like it, too, but that was actually going to
work in his favor this time, he hoped.

 "How're you feeling, Rich?" asked Wright.

 "A little better, thanks. I'm sorry I wasn't up and around earlier."

 "I'm sorry, too. This was supposed to be a relaxing long weekend, and
here you are sick only a day into it." He stood and walked around his desk
to the coffee carafe across the room. Lifting it, he filled a cup then
turned to Face. "Refill?"

 Face shook his head. "No, thanks, I'm fine."

 Putting down the carafe, Wright returned and stood just behind Face's
chair, laying a hand on his shoulder. With an effort, Face remained
relaxed even when Wright's hand found its way to his neck and began to rub
it. "We have appointments in town in about an hour. I'm sorry to put you
to work like this, but some things won't wait."

 "It's okay, sir," Face replied. "That's why you're successful. You work
hard and you're smart." He twisted his head around to look up at Wright,
doing his best to look innocent and eager to please. "That's why I wanted
to work for you."

 "Really?" Wright came around to stand in front of him. It made Face
uncomfortable to have this man standing so close to him, but he continued
to gaze up at Wright worshipfully.

 "I want to be part of something successful. I know I haven't been part of
your business very long, but I learn fast. You're exactly the kind of
businessman I want to be!" Face knew he was laying it on kind of thick,
but so far Wright seemed to be responding.

 Wright set his cup down and leaned forward to rest his hands on Face's
shoulders. "I can teach you a lot. I can make room for you at the highest
levels of this organization, Rich, but only if I know you are one hundred
percent loyal. I can forgive many things, but not disloyalty!" Wright's
voice had taken on a menacing tone.

 "I'd never betray you, Mr. Wright!" exclaimed Face. "You're everything I
ever wanted to be!"

 Wright smiled and straightened, stepping back a pace. Face tried not to
show his relief. "Good!" said Wright. "I like you, Rich. You've got a lot
of potential. There may be others in my organization whom I'll be having
to...let go soon, so you may be promoted faster than you thought."

 Face licked his lips, not liking the direction this conversation was
going. "Um...let go? Surely we're not having financial problems!"

 Wright laughed humorlessly. "No, personnel problems. Someone has hacked
into my personal files."

 "Are you sure it's somebody on the inside? Couldn't it be a rival? If
you're good enough, you can hack in from almost anywhere."

 Wright nodded. "It's possible, I suppose, but nobody from the outside has
ever successfully accessed my files. It's not that they got anything
useful. I've got a complex system that isn't even all on computer, and I
developed it myself to prevent anyone from stealing my...corporate
secrets. It's a bitch to try and steal secrets from me!"

 Tell me about it, thought Face. Aloud he said, "Is it anything I can help
you with?"

 Wright sat back in his chair and looked at Face over steepled fingers.
"Maybe," he said. "You know, people like you. They tell you things. Even
Keith and Dan confided in you, and they're usually pretty private about
their relationship."

 Face smiled. "Well, I guess they recognized a kindred spirit in me.

 Wright nodded. "They've been spending a lot of time with you and Paul
lately."

 "I suppose they have," acknowledged Face. "I hope that's not a problem
for you."

 "Oh, no," said Wright. "I like to watch my people...being happy."

 Face nodded, wondering uneasily just how much watching Wright was doing.
Murdock had told him about Wright's predawn visit.

 "What do you make of them?" Wright asked suddenly.

 Face thought fast. If he was reading the situation correctly, Wright was
growing suspicious of Dan and Keith, and that could be very bad for their
health. And the two of them were logical suspects, as they knew more about
the organization than almost anyone. For a moment he considered actively
recruiting their assistance, letting them help him dig up the evidence he
needed and take it to the police. The organization would collapse, but
Wright was a powerful man with lots of friends, and Dan and Keith would be
marked men. They'd have to enter the witness protection program and would
probably end up in some redneck town where life would be hell for a couple
both interracial and gay. He couldn't do it to them. Even if it meant
turning Wright's suspicions on Murdock and himself, he had to keep the
others safe.

 "Well," he said, "they're great guys. I'd say we're becoming good
friends. And you know, they have nothing but praise for you. You took them
in as a couple, gave them good jobs, never once used their sexual
orientation against them. They, at least, are two people whose loyalty to
you you'll never need to question."

 "You're sure of that?"

 "As sure as I am of my loyalty to you, sir."

 Wright smiled. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. They've always been an asset
to this company. I'd hate to lose them."

 "If you don't mind me saying so, sir, I think you should look a little
further afield for your hacker," Face suggested.

 "You have somebody in mind?" Wright asked.

 "Well, no," admitted Face. "But I'd be glad to help you if you like."

 Wright regarded him silently for a long moment as if weighing the risks.
"Well, we'll see," he finally said. "Right now, we need to get to a
meeting. What's that partner of yours going to be up to while we're gone?"

 "He's driving into town to refill my prescription. I took the last two
pills last night," Face answered.

 Wright nodded. "Fine. I'll have the car brought around. Can you be ready
in fifteen minutes?"

 "Sure," replied Face, standing as Wright reached for the phone. "Thanks
for everything, sir. Thanks for believing in me."

 "You're welcome, Rich. Just remember -- loyalty. It's the only way to
survive in this organization."

 Interesting choice of words, thought Face. Survival was becoming his top
priority. "I'll remember, Mr. Wright."

 Wright watched Face walk from the room, punched a few numbers, and spoke
into the phone. "Have the car waiting in fifteen minutes, and send
Thompson in to see me now."

 Murdock watched the rearview mirror as he pulled into the drug store
parking lot. The green sedan that had been following him the last several
miles slowed as it passed but didn't pull into the lot. He looked up and
down the street as he got out of the car but didn't see anything out of
the ordinary. Once inside the store he made his way to the pharmacy
section. The store was virtually empty, and he couldn't see the druggist
around as he lounged against the counter and rang the bell. Waiting for a
response, he looked around. This was a real, old-fashioned drug store with
a soda fountain adjacent to the pharmacy. Behind the soda counter a
bored-looking man in mismatched shirt and trousers swabbed disinterestedly
at the counter, not so much wiping up as redistributing the crumbs.
Murdock figured he'd just missed the end of the lunch crowd. If a place
this small ever got a crowd.

 He turned back to the counter as the pharmacist approached. "Hi!" he
greeted her as she came to the window.

 She was tall and slender, with dark hair swept back off a high forehead.
She smiled at him as she returned his greeting. "Hello, sir. What can I
help you with?"

 He returned her smile as he handed her the empty bottle. "I need to have
this prescription refilled, please," he said.

 The pharmacist looked at the bottle and nodded. "Are these for you?" she
asked. "I hope you haven't waited until you had the migraine to refill
these."

 Mindful of Face's fear that some of the townspeople could be in Wright's
pocket, Murdock stayed in character. "No, actually, they're for my
partner," he replied.

 "Partner? As in business partner?" she asked. "I wasn't aware of any new
businesses in town."

 "No, partner as in life partner."

 "Ah, I see," she said.

 "We're guests at Ted Wright's estate outside of town."

 The pharmacist's smiled turned icy. "Estate. So that's what he's calling
it these days," she said.

 "What would you call it?" he asked.

 "Gee, I don't know. Compound, maybe? Armed camp?"

 Well, this one obviously wasn't in Wright's pocket. "I suppose it does
rather look that way from the outside," Murdock said. "But he's an
important man, and it probably pays to be careful."

 She snorted in a very unladylike manner but didn't reply.

 "You, uh, don't seem to like him much," Murdock probed gently. He'd have
to remember to tell Hannibal about her. In a pinch, she might become an
ally.

 "Actually," she snapped, "I don't like him at all!"

 "Are you willing to tell me why?" he asked.

 "Long story," she replied abruptly, turning away. She obviously was not
going to talk about it. "This'll be ready in about fifteen minutes. I'll
page you over the loudspeaker. What name shall I use?"

 "Huntington," said Murdock. "Paul Huntington."

 Without another word, she walked away. Murdock glanced about again,
making sure none of Wright's men were about, then casually made his way to
the lunch counter, sitting on one of the red stools. The soda jerk had
disappeared beneath the counter, evidently searching for something he had
dropped. From the muttered curses floating up from the floor, he didn't
seem to be having much luck. Murdock had to fight the urge to twirl around
on the stool; it seemed an un-Paul Huntington- like thing to do, so he
contented himself with drumming his fingers on the counter as he waited.
He was about to give up when the clerk popped up in front of him so
suddenly that he jumped.

 "Things must be bad. You didn't even stop to look at the comic books on
the way in."

 Murdock peered closely at the man. "This is a new look for you, Colonel,"
he said. "Face would have a stroke if he could see that outfit. And that
red hair! It's scary."

 "It works for me," Hannibal replied. "Nobody looks too closely at the
face when they see the clothes."

 "Probably makes `em nauseous," Murdock offered.

 "You got something for me?"

 "Yeah, such as it is. I'll slip it to you on my way out. It's not
everything, but it's a start."

 Hannibal nodded then turned away to fix an ice cream soda. "You look
tired," he said quietly.

 "I was up most of the night," Murdock replied. "Face was sick."

 "Migraine?"

 "Yeah. It was really bad."

 Hannibal turned back to the counter and put the drink in front of
Murdock. "He seems to be getting a lot of those lately," he said, picking
up his rag and flicking a few more crumbs around. "That's bad timing; I
don't like it."

 "He's been under a lot of stress lately," Murdock snapped defensively.
"You think it's easy for him to juggle all the different parts of this
operation when we're not even completely sure what we're into?"

 Hannibal stopped flicking and looked straight into Murdock's eyes.
"You're worried," he said.

 Murdock nodded, looking down and stabbing his straw up and down through
scoop of ice cream on top of his soda, heedless of the soda that sloshed
over the rim and ran down the sides of the glass to pool on the counter.

 "Is Wright suspicious of you?"

 "He knows something's up, he just doesn't know who's to blame. If he had
any proof it was us, we could both be dead by now. I thought we were
goners last night when he discovered someone had hacked into his computer
and knew we were the last ones in the room, but for some reason he didn't
make the connection. Or if he did, he didn't follow up on it."

 "Can you keep him guessing?"

 "I think so. For awhile, anyway."

 Hannibal frowned and busied himself wiping glasses. "Maybe we should pull
you two out and try this another way."

 Murdock shook his head. "Face won't leave now," he said. "He's determined
to finish what he started and to do it without jeopardizing Keith or Dan.
He spent some time sucking up to Wright this morning, assuring him of his
loyalty and theirs, and it seems Wright bought it, though he did have me
followed. I think we're okay for awhile."

 "Then what's the problem?"

 "Wright seems to be taking a more...personal...interest in Face."

 Hannibal watched silently a moment as Murdock renewed his attack on the
ice cream. "Personal or sexual?" he asked.

 "I'm not quite sure yet," Murdock admitted. "But I don't like the way he
looks at Face, or the parts of him he looks at."

 "Jealous, Captain?" Hannibal asked mildly.

 "Damnit, I'm trying to keep us both alive here, Hannibal," Murdock hissed
angrily. "Face is putting himself in a dangerous spot trying to get
Wright's trust. Maybe more dangerous than he even realizes. I just have a
bad feeling about Wright."

 "Face has had men make passes at him before. He knows how to turn them
away. But what is going to be a problem is if you two fail to convince
Wright you really are a couple. If he thinks there's a chance you aren't,
he'll realize why you're there."

 "I know," Murdock answered, finally applying himself to his drink.

 "If things get too bad, I want you to get him the hell out of there."

 "Hannibal, if we leave now, Wright will make the connection to us for
sure," said Murdock.

 "Which will take the heat off your friends and get you two out of harm's
way," Hannibal answered.

 "But we'd never be able to go back in. Face would never speak to me again
if I let that happen," said Murdock. "This is his plan, and he wants to do
it his way."

 "He'd never speak to you again if he were dead, either, Murdock. When it
comes down to it, this is still my responsibility. Face's safety and yours
are your top priority from here on out. If you're going to stay in this
situation, you have to make a believer out of Wright, no matter what. And
that's an order, Captain."

 "Yes, sir," Murdock replied reluctantly.

 Hannibal picked up Murdock's drink and mopped at the mess underneath it.
"B.A.'s with the van. Call there to let me know when you've either got
more information or are pulling the plug and getting out. In the meantime,
I'll get better acquainted with the pharmacist."

 "There doesn't seem to be any love lost between her and Wright," Murdock
observed.

 "There wouldn't be," said Hannibal. "Wright took a personal interest in
her younger brother a few years back. Offered him a great position and
opportunities for advancement, and he didn't have to hide his sexual
preference." He looked at Murdock evenly. "Sound familiar? He was
swallowed up in that compound one day and never came back out. Parts of
him showed up at the dump, eventually."

 Murdock sighed then stood as he heard his assumed name paged. Hannibal
snatched the soda and emptied it into the sink, looking resentfully at the
dirty glass as he rinsed it perfunctorily and placed it among the clean
glasses he'd removed from the dishwasher. "Be careful, Murdock," he said
without looking up.

 Murdock nodded, placed on the counter a few bills folded around the disk,
and returned to the pharmacy. The pharmacist would not meet his eyes as
she rang up his purchase. "It seems you've had a bad experience with Mr.
Wright," he offered gently. "I'm sorry."

 The pharmacist nodded but still refused to meet his eyes. "Make sure your
partner takes these at the first sign of the migraine. If he waits until
the pain is bad, they'll be less effective."

 "I know," said Murdock. "Thank you." He accepted his change then left the
store. He glanced up and down the street again on the way out, and there
was the green sedan waiting down the block. Knowing Face would be gone
most of the afternoon, he led the sedan a merry chase all over town as he
visited the art supply shop, the florist, the wine shop, the fabric store,
and even a kinky love toys shop that seemed strangely out of place in this
sleepy town. There he wandered the aisles for a long time, buying nothing,
but making life miserable for his followers who'd been sitting outside in
the hot sun most of the afternoon. Ignoring the pointed looks the elderly
clerk was giving him, he finally selected a package of condoms and took
them to the counter. The bulky, blue-haired woman impatiently flipped the
ashes off her cigarette and onto a paper plate.

 "Honey, you been here for forty-five minutes, and this is all you're
buyin'?" she asked. "You sure you ain't just too shy to pick up any of the
good stuff?" She batted her eyes at him seductively and pursed ruby red
lips. "I could show you how to use some of it," she whispered coyly.

 Murdock almost laughed aloud at the thought of playing bondage games with
this prune-faced seductress. "Well, actually," he replied, lowering his
voice and leaning forward conspiratorially, "you don't have anything else
here I don't already own."

 The lady managed to look both surprised and impressed. "Well, I'm getting
some new stock in next week," she said. "Come on back then, and we'll see
what we can do for you."

 Murdock smiled his thanks, paid, and left. He figured he'd have enough
time to get back to the estate/compound/armed camp and get a quick nap
before Face returned. One way or another, it was looking to be a long
night.

 Chapter 8

 Murdock was sitting on the top step when Face and Wright returned. He
walked to the car, opened the door without waiting for the limo driver,
and pulled Face out of the car and into his embrace. Startled, Face hugged
him quickly in return as Wright climbed out of the car behind him. As Face
pulled back, Murdock looked into his eyes. "Uh-oh. Headache back?"

 "Yeah," Face replied. "It's not too bad yet. Did you get my pills?"

 "Yes, of course, Richie." He pulled out the bottle, opened it, and handed
Face one pill. Face accepted it gratefully and swallowed it dry.

 "Are you going to be alright, Rich?" asked Wright, stepping close and
squeezing his elbow.

 "Yeah, he'll be fine," Murdock answered on his behalf. "He's probably
been in the car too long. We'll go get some fresh air, maybe take a little
nap in the sun. Sound good?" he finished as he took Face's hand.

 Knowing from Murdock's tone that something was wrong, Face nodded and
allowed Murdock to lead him away. He looked back over his shoulder at
Wright. "See you later, sir,"

 Wright nodded and headed up the steps. Murdock headed casually to a spot
under a tree in the center of the lawn, grabbing a blanket off a chaise
lounge as he went by. He spread the blanket on the ground and sat, pulling
Face down next to him.

 "What's wrong?" Face asked.

 "Lots," replied Murdock.

 Before Face knew what was happening, Murdock put his hand behind Face's
head and pulled him into a kiss. Startled, Face tried to pull away, but
Murdock retained an iron grip on his neck.

 "He's watching us out the window," Murdock mumbled against his lips.
"Make it look real."

 Not knowing what else to do, Face willed himself to relax and lean into
the kiss, closing his eyes. Murdock eased him back to lie on the blanket
and leaned over him, cupping his face gently between his hands. Trying to
ignore a sudden rush of almost adolescent giddiness, Face tried to analyze
the situation as dispassionately as he could. He concluded that they were
in danger, which he already knew, and that Murdock was a very good kisser,
which he didn't already know. Beyond that, he couldn't seem to think.

 Murdock broke the kiss and pulled back. He lay on his side next to a
somewhat breathless Face, propped himself on one elbow, and draped the
other arm over Face's chest. "Sorry," he apologized in a whisper as two
burly guards walked by on their way back to the house.

 "It's okay," Face murmured, realizing that it actually was. "What's the
problem?"

 "Had to get you out here before you went up to our room. It's bugged."

 "Bugged?" Face repeated. This was going to complicate the hell out of
things.

 "Thoroughly. Wright can see and hear everything we do there, and we don't
dare disable them or he'll know what we're up to."

 "Shit!" Face swore softly. "How much do you think he suspects?" He raised
a hand to rub his temples.

 Murdock sat up against the tree and pulled Face up to lean against his
chest. Face sagged against him as Murdock gently rubbed his temples. "I
don't know. He had me followed today."

 "He was asking me a lot of questions today," said Face. "Kind of
personal, too. "

 "About?"

 "Me. Us. Our...relationship."

 "Did you answer them to his satisfaction?"

 "I don't know. I tried to be as vague as I could and changed the subject
a lot."

 "I've noticed he's rather taken with you," Murdock said. "Touches you a
lot."

 "I know," Face said.

 "Why didn't you tell me?"

 "I was hoping I was just overreacting. You know how I am. Stuff other
people do all the time makes me jumpy. I thought I was just reading him
wrong."

 "No. It's more than a friendly interest," said Murdock. "I'd say he's got
the hots for you, you little charmer."

 "Shit."

 "Yeah."

 Murdock turned his attention to Face's shoulders. Face began to slowly
relax under his touch as the medication took effect. Pretty soon he'd fall
asleep. "Face?"

 "Hm?"

 "Once we're back to the house, we have to be Rich and Paul twenty-four
hours a day. We have to convince Wright we're the happiest couple on
earth, that we fill each other's every need." He felt Face stiffen as he
realized the import of Murdock's words. "He'll be watching us tonight. If
he suspects I'm not really your lover, we're both dead. If he thinks I am
your lover, but I'm not making you happy, I'm afraid he's gonna be looking
to take you to his own bed."

 Face took a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out and relaxed
against Murdock. "I'm sorry I got you into this, Murdock."

 Murdock slipped his arms around Face's chest and squeezed gently. "Don't
be. But you're gonna have to resign yourself to giving Wright the thrill
of his life tonight."

 "I've...never," Face began awkwardly.

 "I know," Murdock interrupted. "But we'll manage. We're going to have a
nice, romantic evening. Just the three of us."

 Finally able to see some humor in the situation, Face snorted with
laughter as Murdock lay back on the blanket, pulling Face with him.
Without another word, Face settled on his side, pillowed his head on
Murdock's shoulder, and closed his eyes, too exhausted even to worry.

 Shortly before dinner, Face woke. He sat up slowly, careful not to wake
Murdock, and realized that, for the moment at least, his headache was
gone. Taking stock of their situation, he wished mightily that they could
just walk away from this whole damned mess and call it quits, but he knew
that since he'd created the mess, it was his to clean up. There was no way
around it, especially since they were virtual prisoners here. To allay
Wright's suspicions, he was going to have to make love to his best friend,
knowing that Wright would see and hear it all. He wasn't at all sure this
was something he could pull off, and he feared what it might do to their
friendship. Murdock was always saying he'd do anything for him, but Face
didn't think this was the sort of thing Murdock had had in mind. Would
Murdock resent him for this? He'd never admit it, of course, but how could
he not resent having been put in this position? Face had made the job
sound like a bit of easy playacting. He'd never dreamed he'd have to
compromise Murdock like this.

 Murdock sighed in his sleep and shifted slightly. Watching him, Face
thought back to their kiss. Oddly enough, he'd actually enjoyed it once he
got over the initial shock. That was a scary thought. But was it really a
physical attraction, or was it just that in this vulnerable position, he
was responding to the strength and safety Murdock had always represented
for him? He didn't know. But he did know that he trusted Murdock
implicitly. Murdock would never hurt him. If nothing else went right, he
could at least cling to that. He sighed and looked out over the ocean. If
this failed, it would be his fault, not Murdock's. As always, he was the
weak link in their four-man chain.

 During their incarceration in the POW camp, sexual assaults had been
frequent and brutal. Like the others, Face had endured, but things had
never been quite the same after that. He'd studiously avoided physical
contact with anyone for a long time, even after he'd regained some control
over his hypersensitive startle reaction. When he'd resumed sexual
relationships again, he'd carefully chosen women who would let him be in
control. He was a gentle, thorough, considerate lover, but he was always,
always the one in control. But tonight could not be avoided, and he was
not going to be able to take control, not even if his life depended on it.


 He looked back at Murdock to find him awake.

 "You look a little better," Murdock said.

 "I feel better," Face replied. "Headache's finally gone." Murdock sat up
and brushed a few stray blades of grass from Face's sleeves. "You've
rumpled your suit," he said. "How very uncharacteristic of you."

 Face laughed a bit as he smoothed his jacket. "I know. I guess I'll have
to go up and change before dinner." He stopped smoothing and looked at
Murdock, all traces of humor gone. "Look, Murdock, I appreciate everything
you've done for me. I'm okay to finish this on my own."

 "You want me to leave," Murdock said.

 Face knew that was the last thing he wanted, but he nodded. "I can't ask
you to get into this any deeper. I've got Wright just about where I want
him; a few more weeks and I should be able to bring him down. Why don't we
just stage a big fight? You can storm off and go home, and I'll cry myself
to sleep."

 Murdock reached out and took Face's hands in his own. "Do that and I
guarantee you'll have your head between Wright's legs before sunup, and
you'll be way too busy with that for the next few weeks to do anything
else," he said gently. "I'm not leaving you to go through that."

 Murdock looked past Face's left shoulder to see a pair of guards pausing
to light their cigarettes and knew they were also straining to overhear
their conversation. Noticing his look, they moved off a bit. Face's
fingers were icy in his grip, and Murdock rubbed them gently. "Are you
gonna be able to go through with this tonight, Face?"

 "I don't know," Face answered honestly, eyes lowered. "I know it's
important, but," he broke off abruptly and sighed heavily before
continuing. "I'm kind of afraid I'm gonna leap off the bed and go hide in
the corner." He laughed a bit at himself, but it was a laugh full of
misery.

 Having seen him do it before, Murdock knew Face wasn't kidding.

 "I'm so sorry you have to do this," Face said, finally looking up. "Are
you sure this isn't going to...set you back?"

 Murdock laughed softly. "I can see it now. You in one corner, me in the
other, and Wright wondering what the hell was in our bed!"

 "C'mon, Murdock, I'm serious," snapped Face impatiently.

 "I know," replied Murdock. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm not as
uncomfortable with this as you are."

 "You're sure?"

 "Yes," answered Murdock soothingly. "Please, just try to relax. You know
I'd never hurt you. And if you have to do this, isn't it better to do it
with a friend?"

 "Yeah, I guess," Face replied, dropping his eyes again. "At least I know
you're not gonna give me anything."

 "Yeah, and I'm not gonna get you pregnant, either," Murdock joked, hoping
to lighten the atmosphere. Face smiled but didn't look up. "Listen,"
Murdock continued, "if you have a panic attack, we'll deal with it. God
knows I've had enough practice with my own. You can do this." Face nodded.
"I'm just...nervous. I feel like a virgin bride on her wedding night!"

 Murdock laughed aloud at that. "I can see you as a lot of things, Facey,
but not as a virgin."

 Face smiled at the jest but didn't respond. He'd never told anybody that
he actually had been a virgin until his brutal initiation in the prison
camp. "Here come Keith and Dan," he announced, seeing the two men walking
toward them. The two walked hand in hand, each carrying a tennis racket.
Face envied them their easy affection and familiarity. He had never felt
that comfortable with his lovers. Watching them, he realized that despite
his Romeo reputation, he was missing out on something.

 Murdock turned and waved to the two men then turned back to Face.
"Everything's gonna be fine," he said. "Trust me?" It was a question, not
a statement.

 Face finally met his eyes and smiled back. "Always," he said.

 Keith and Dan dropped onto the blanket next to them, Keith groaning
dramatically as he flopped onto his back. "Man, don't ever play tennis
with that old guy," he moaned. "He cheats!"

 Dan cuffed him affectionately on the shoulder. "I don't cheat! You skinny
little American boys just don't have enough stamina to keep up with a real
man!"

 "Hah! A real old man, you mean!" Keith shot back. He looked over at
Murdock and Face. "I was holding back so the strain wouldn't give him a
heart attack. Otherwise I'd have beaten the pants off him!"

 Dan chuckled and leaned over Keith. "Well, you can try that tonight," he
murmured as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 "Why, you dirty old man!" Keith exclaimed. He raised himself to his
elbows. "You're on!"

 Dan stood and reached down to help Keith to his feet. "Let's go, weenie
boy," he said. "We'd better get cleaned up and dressed before dinner. Mr.
Wright doesn't like to be kept waiting."

 "You two coming, too?" Keith asked as he brushed off his backside.

 "Yeah," replied Face, standing.

 "You feeling better today, Rich?" asked Dan.

 "Yes, I am, thanks," Face replied. "It's just that once I get one of
these headaches, it keeps coming back every day for a week or so. Luckily,
I travel with a really good massage therapist," he finished, glancing at
Murdock.

 "Ah!" returned Keith. "Good looking and useful, too! You're a lucky guy,
Rich."

 Face smiled. "I guess I am," he replied. Tentatively he put his arm
through Murdock's and felt it pressed to Murdock's side as Murdock drew
him closer. Face allowed himself to lean slightly against Murdock as he
walked. He could do this. He hoped.

 Ted Wright was just taking his place at the head of the dinner table when
Keith and Dan entered the room. Wright smiled pleasantly as they took
their places side by side at the dinner table.

 "Gentlemen, how was your tennis game?" he inquired solicitously.

 "Just great, Mr. Wright," answered Keith. "You were right; it was a great
way to work up an appetite."

 Wright nodded. "Good, good!" he said heartily. It had also been a good
way to get them out of the house so he could upgrade the surveillance
equipment in their room. If they were his traitors, he'd soon know it. If
not, well, they were inventive and enthusiastic lovers and always put on a
good show. Between them and his other houseguests, he should have an
entertaining if not enlightening evening. The houseguests in question
entered the room just then. Rich Todd was a step ahead of Paul Huntington,
Paul's hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

 "I hope we're not late," said Rich.

 "No, no, you're right on time," answered Wright, watching as Paul first
pulled Rich's chair out for him before taking his own seat. Wright was
interested to note how protective and solicitous Paul was of Rich. He
supposed Rich's youthful good looks and complete lack of guile brought out
certain traits in others. With Huntington, it was protectiveness. In
himself it was possessiveness. And jealousy.

 When both men were seated, Wright nodded at the waiter standing nearby to
serve the first course. Then he sat back, saying little, watching and
listening to the conversation of his guests. Rich and Dan discussed the
stock market, soccer, and that year's Academy Awards nominees, with Paul
providing uncanny impressions of various actors along the way.

 Keith had little interest in any of those topics but listened
good-naturedly to the conversation. He eventually glanced Wright's way and
noticed Wright staring at Rich with an almost feral expression on his
face. Could Wright be harboring lustful thoughts for Rich Todd? True, Rich
looked stunning in a royal blue silk shirt and a brightly patterned tie
with splashes of red, yellow, and royal blue. But Dan was quite a looker,
and Wright had never looked at him that way. At least, he hoped he hadn't.
Thinking perhaps it was his imagination, Keith glanced across the table
and knew that Paul had noticed the look as well. Paul was frowning and his
left arm stretched across the back of Rich's chair as if forming a barrier
between Rich and Mr. Wright. He hoped Wright wouldn't notice Paul's
unfriendly scowl, as it could create problems for Rich.

 "Hey, Rich, that's some tie!" Keith broke in as soon as there was an
opening in the conversation. "Is it one of Paul's designs?"

 As he'd hoped, both Paul and Wright turned their attention to him.

 Face fingered the tie. "As a matter of fact, it is," he answered. And as
a matter of fact, it was. Thorough as always, Face had insisted Murdock
design several ties, jackets, and vests, which he'd had made up at great
personal expense. Despite Murdock's usual flair for the outrageous and
flamboyant, his men's designs were tasteful, understated, and perfectly
designed for Face's build and coloring.

 "I've never seen a design quite like that anywhere," Wright commented.

 "And you won't, either," exclaimed Face. "This is a one-of-a-kind. He
designed it for me."

 "Brings out your eyes," Dan said. "Good job, Paul."

 "What can I say?" smiled Murdock, wrapping an arm around Face's
shoulders. "He's so beautiful, he inspires me."

 "Perhaps I could impose upon you to design some new clothing for me," put
in Wright, signaling for coffee to be served.

 Murdock smiled again and nodded. "I could always use the business, Mr.
Wright. I'd be glad to." He was visualizing something with long sleeves
that wrapped around and fastened in the back.

 Say, can you two join us for a tennis game tomorrow?" asked Keith. "That
is, if your headache isn't back," he continued, looking at Face.

 "Rich may be pretty busy tomorrow," cut in Wright smoothly. He glanced
meaningfully at Face. "Some problems have come up, and Rich has offered to
help me straighten them out. But I'll try to leave him some time to play
in the afternoon."

 Face answered, "I'll get on it first thing tomorrow, sir. I'm usually up
early."

 "So I've heard," returned Wright with a smile. "If you'll all excuse me,
it's been a fairly long day. I'll retire to my room and see you all in the
morning."

 If not sooner, Face thought sourly. But as Wright rose, he smiled
brightly and offered his employer a cheerful goodnight.

 The four remaining men retired to the living room and played a friendly
poker game using after dinner mints as chips. Dan and Keith piled their
winnings in a communal heap on their side of the table while Face arranged
his in neat, color-coded rows but had to keep batting Murdock's hand away
as he ate his own winnings and began on Face's. Keith and Dan looked on,
laughing as they sipped their wine.

 Murdock continued to fill Face's wine glass, steal mints, and tease him
until Face visibly relaxed. Face knew what Murdock was doing and
appreciated it. He finally felt the tensions of the last two days draining
away and had achieved a pleasant buzz that felt good but was too far short
of drunkenness to cause a hangover.

 Eventually Dan and Keith excused themselves and headed up to bed. Knowing
it could be put off no longer, Face also stood, looking at Murdock
expectantly. Murdock pulled him into a hug.

 Mindful of eavesdroppers, Murdock whispered, "Are you ready?" "Yeah, I'm
ready," Face whispered back, but his voice trembled.

 Face let Murdock lead him up the stairs and into their room, trying to
remember not to look at the hidden cameras Murdock had pointed out to him
when they had come up to dress for dinner. But Face's jaw dropped when
Murdock ushered him into the room ahead of him. Candlelight flickered
softly at various points around the room, and soft music played in the
background. Fresh flowers sat on the nightstand next to a bottle of
champagne chilling in an ice bucket. It was exactly the same sort of
incredibly romantic setting Face had often created for women he was trying
to seduce. He turned to Murdock, his eyes wide. "Paul," he breathed,
"it's, it's..."

 "Romantic? Enchanting? Wondrous?" supplied Murdock helpfully, putting his
arms around Face's waist. "A bit over the top, maybe, but what else can
you expect from a guy who designs purple chicken dresses?"

 Face laughed and Murdock pulled him closer. "Stop laughing when I'm
trying to seduce you, you idiot!" Murdock exclaimed. "You're giggling like
a schoolgirl!"

 Face only laughed harder, returning Murdock's embrace briefly before
turning away. "No, seriously, this is lovely, Paul. Thank you." He stepped
to the ice bucket and examined the champagne. "This is my favorite brand!"

 "I know," replied Murdock, bringing over two glasses.

 "How did you pull this off?" Face asked, looking around the room.

 "That invisible guy who turns our bed down every night and leaves these
little chocolates on our pillow set it up for me," answered Murdock,
pouring the champagne and handing a glass to Face.

 Face sipped the champagne appreciatively then bent and picked up a
package of glow-in-the-dark condoms off the pillow. "These aren't
chocolates!" he exclaimed.

 Murdock smiled and took the condoms, tossing them on the nightstand.
"Just a gag," he said. "I had some time to kill, and I felt bad leaving
the store without buying something." By the time Murdock finished
describing the store and the pass its elderly proprietress had made at
him, Face was convulsed with helpless laughter. It felt good to laugh
again, to be sharing this joke with his closest friend, and for a moment,
Face could almost forget Wright was watching. Almost.

 Murdock kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed behind Face, gently
massaging his shoulders. "Happy birthday, Richie," he said.

 Birthday? Where the hell did that come from? They hadn't talked about
birthdays. Face struggled for a moment to remember the birthdate he'd put
on Richard Todd's birth certificate. "Paul, my birthday was six months
ago," he said, playing along.

 "I know, sweetheart," said Paul. "And I told you then that I'd make it up
to you. I know you're still a little hazy on this," he continued, slipping
his arms around Face's chest to pull him close. "You were still in the
hospital on your birthday after the night those men jumped you in the
parking lot and beat and raped you." Face said nothing for a few moments
while he got his thoughts in order. Murdock was obviously concocting a
cover story in case Face did panic and make a dash for the corner.

 "I...I don't really remember all the details," Face said softly. "Not
even of the time in the hospital."

 In his room, Wright refilled his wine glass and watched and listened
carefully. This was something he hadn't known about.

 Drawing on his memories of the POW camp, Face recreated the assault for
his persona. "I only remember voices and...and hands. And it hurt so bad.
I screamed and screamed, but nobody would help me."

 "I know, baby, I know," murmured Murdock soothingly. "And it's taken a
long time for you to completely heal."

 Face nodded, not quite sure where to take this.

 "Last time we tried to make love, it wasn't as successful as we'd hoped,"
Murdock continued.

 "I'm sorry, Paul; really, I am," said Face. "I do love you; you know I
do."

 "Shh, I know, I know." Murdock pulled Face down to lie on the bed. "You
show me that in a thousand ways every day. It was just too much, too soon,
Richie. You weren't up to it." He loosened Face's necktie and ran a hand
gently through his hair. "Tonight is just for you, just to help you
remember how good it can be. Will you let me love you?"

 "Y...yes," Face whispered.

 "Good." Murdock placed feather-light kisses on Face's cheeks and
forehead. "I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you. I love you, Richie."

 Murdock straddled Face's hips and looked down at him. Trust warred with
fear in Face's eyes as Murdock's strong hands gently cupped his face.
"Trust me?" he asked softly, the same question he'd asked earlier that
afternoon. It was Murdock asking, not Paul.

 Face raised his hands to squeeze Murdock's forearms. "Always," he
whispered and closed his eyes as Murdock bent to kiss him. They'd already
done this once today. This was the easy part. This he could do with, well,
with his eyes closed. Face breathed a deep sigh as he realized he had
never, never been kissed like this before.

 Murdock pulled back and looked at him. "You doing okay?" he asked.

 "Yes," Face whispered without opening his eyes. "Don't stop."

 Murdock smiled and slid down to lie flat on top of Face, propped himself
on his forearms, and kissed him again. Face tasted after dinner mints as
Murdock's tongue slid into his mouth. Mints and champagne. Damn, Murdock
was really good at this.

 Murdock pulled back again, and Face opened his eyes. "What's wrong?" Face
asked.

 "Nothing's wrong," Murdock replied as he removed Face's tie and laid it
on a chair next to the bed. "It's just time to get ready for bed." Murdock
stood and began stripping off his clothes. His movements were casual and
unhurried.

 Face lay watching Murdock disrobe but felt paralyzed, unable to stand and
undress himself. This was ridiculous, he chided himself. He and Murdock
had seen each other naked many times. But somehow this was different, and
he couldn't bring himself to move. Murdock, however, acted pleased as he
returned to stand by the bed.

 "Ah, I love it when you let me undress you," said Murdock softly as he
bent to remove Face's shoes. "It's like opening a gift."

 If Face hadn't been paralyzed, he might have laughed at the corny line.
Murdock pulled off his socks and gently ran his hand over the top of one
bare foot.

 Face felt all his muscles begin to tense and was immediately glad for the
cover story previously set forth for Wright's benefit. He drew a deep,
shuddering breath and forced himself to relax as Murdock unbuckled his
belt, opened his slacks, and eased them down and off.

 "Breathe, Richie, breathe," urged Murdock as he lay the slacks aside. His
voice was soft and soothing. "It's only me."

 You and Wright and God knows how many of his henchmen, thought Face. But
he forced himself to look into Murdock's eyes. "I'm okay, Paul," he said.

 "Good," returned Murdock as he unbuttoned Face's shirt and slid it off.

 Face lay still and watched Murdock walk across the room to hang up the
expensive trousers and silk shirt. It was just the kind of thing Paul
Huntington would do. Murdock had this role down pat.

 For all that he sometimes seemed all long arms and legs, here Murdock
moved with grace and assurance, the candlelight highlighting the soft
curves and smooth planes of the muscles in his back and buttocks as he
buttoned the shirt and hung it up. He reminded Face of the lithe young
athletes painted on Greek pottery.

 Murdock returned to the bed and held out his hand. When Face took it,
Murdock pulled him up and off the bed to stand in front of him. Face
started to lower his eyes, thought better of it, and looked instead at
Murdock's face. Murdock smiled, pulled him close, and kissed him again.
Without thinking, Face responded, his arms going around Murdock's neck.
Murdock's hands slipped under his T-shirt, running gently up and down his
back. Face was fine with that. Murdock rubbed his back all the time when
he had a headache. He could do this. Caught up in the moment, he'd almost
abandoned rational thought when Murdock's hands slipped down to cup his
buttocks, squeezing gently.

 Face gasped and pulled away, stumbling backward. He'd have fallen if
Murdock had not grabbed his arms to steady him. Realizing what he'd done,
Face folded his arms across his chest to try to control his trembling and
slow his breathing. He looked up at Murdock, tears in his eyes. "Oh, God,
Paul. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said shakily.

 "Did I hurt you?" Murdock asked, concerned.

 "No, no," gasped Face. "It's not you. I just...I couldn't help it. I just
remembered...it felt like..." Face was practically incoherent, and Murdock
feared he might slip and give something away.

 "It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured soothingly. "It was just a
flashback. Remember, the doctor said you might have those." He opened his
arms but stayed where he was. After a moment, Face stepped into his
embrace, still trembling. "It's my fault, Rich," Murdock continued,
holding the other man close and swaying gently. "I should have told you
what I was doing before I touched you there. I should've remembered what
they did to you."

 Murdock did remember. He remembered Face being dragged back to their cell
naked and semi-conscious, his buttocks and thighs a mass of torn flesh,
with deep, painful wounds that became infected. In his mind, Murdock could
still hear Face screaming as they held him down so the colonel could clean
the wounds. And that was not the last time he'd been brought back to them
in that condition.

 Shit! thought Face. Get a grip before you get us killed! He took some
deep breaths, trying to bring his body back under control. Slowly he
relaxed and unfolded his arms, wrapping them around Murdock's waist and
resting his head against Murdock's shoulder. His heart still hammered, but
he was once again capable of rational thought. He sighed softly and felt
Murdock's arms tighten around him. "You're too good to me, Paul," he said
softly. "Nobody else would put up with me like this."

 "We're a couple, Rich," returned Murdock, resting his chin atop Face's
head. "A team. What happens to you happens to me, and we'll get through
this together, however long it takes."

 Face closed his eyes and relaxed against Murdock's chest. "I could never
get through this without you," he murmured, and he wasn't sure whether he
meant Paul or Murdock.

 "Anything you need, anytime. You know that." Murdock kissed the top of
Face's head. "Do you need to stop for tonight?" he asked.

 Murdock was giving him an out, Face realized. But he knew that a
frustrated Wright was a dangerous Wright. He had to finish this. He pulled
back and looked up at Murdock, meeting his eyes. "No," he replied softly.
"Let's try again."

 Murdock smiled and nodded his approval. "I'm going to finish undressing
you now," he said gently. "Is that alright?"

 "Yes," Face answered, his voice stronger, "it's alright."

 Murdock again slipped his hands under Face's shirt, this time pushing it
up and pulling it off over his head. Face shivered a bit, more from nerves
than cold.

 "Bit chilly in here without clothes, isn't it?" said Murdock.

 "Yeah, it's kinda frosty," Face agreed, trying to sound as calm as
Murdock.

 Wright spoke without glancing away from the monitor. "Have the air
conditioning turned down."

 From the darkness, a disembodied voice answered, "Yes, sir," and spoke
quietly into the phone.

 Wright watched as Rich's last article of clothing pooled around his feet.
Rich stepped aside as his lover bent to pick up the briefs and put them on
the chair. There was no doubt about it, Rich was as beautiful as any man
he had ever had. His chest was smooth as alabaster, his stomach flat, his
legs long and lean. And his genitalia...Wright reached out a hand to touch
the screen. Oh, yes, he was perfect...perfect. Rich turned away as Paul
put an arm about his shoulders to lead him back to the bed. As Wright
expected, the back was as beautiful as the front. The dark tan on his back
and legs contrasted sharply with his pale buttocks. Even in the dim light,
Wright could make out some scarring, but that wouldn't matter. He could
overlook that. Eventually, perhaps, he'd arrange an accident for
Huntington. He could make Rich forget Huntington, forget the rape, forget
everything but him. Rich would be his, body and soul.

 For several minutes Face and Murdock simply sat up in bed sipping
champagne, taking of inconsequential things. Murdock knew Face needed time
to rebury his memories. Finally Murdock took the empty glasses and reached
across Face to set them on the nightstand, gently rolling Face onto his
stomach at the same time.

 Face watched as Murdock poured some oil on his hands, rubbing them
together as he moved down and positioned himself between Face's knees.
Face looked back over his shoulder apprehensively. Surely Murdock wasn't
going straight to that!

 Seeing his look, Murdock shook his head. "I'm just going to touch you,
love. Rub your legs and back, help you relax. Okay?"

 "Yes, that's okay," agreed Face, resting his head on the pillow. Murdock
gave great back rubs.

 Murdock ran his hands gently over Face's shoulders, finding knots of
tension and applying pressure to work them out. He was used to doing this
for Face, and it was a touch Face was comfortable with. But doing this
with an audience was tough. Murdock could feel the younger man still
trembling under his touch as he continued to work.

 "How does that feel?" he finally asked when he could sense some of the
tension diminishing.

 "Better," Face replied.

 "Say, y'know that evening jacket I've been designing for you?"

 "The gray one?" Face asked, playing along. He always enjoyed Murdock's
flights of fancy, crazy as they often were, and had years of practice
encouraging him.

 "Yes." "What about it?"

 "I'm thinking of adding some embellishments."

 "Uh-oh!"

 "I'm thinking of edging the lapel with sequins."

 "Sequins!" Face sounded annoyed.

 "Or maybe rhinestones."

 Face groaned into the pillow.

 "You wouldn't wear rhinestones?"

 "Do I look like Liberace?" Face shot back.

 "Well, I don't know. I've never seen this side of him," Murdock answered.

 Face laughed. Nobody else ever put him at ease like this, helped him over
the rough spots with humor. Lying there, he realized that without him
sensing when it had happened, Murdock's touch had become lighter, a
gentle, teasing caress. This was the touch of a lover, not of someone
working out tension. Face registered the sensation at the same time he
realized that he'd finally stopped shaking. He stretched a bit, settling
himself more comfortably on the bed.

 "I'm okay now, Paul," he said. "Thanks."

 Murdock ran his hands down along Face's side to his waist, stroking
slowly and gently back up his ribs and down along his spine. He hesitated
just above Face's hips.

 "It's okay," said Face, and Murdock's hands gently continued down. Other
than a slight catch in his breathing, Face remained relaxed and passive.

 "I love your skin, Rich," Murdock said. "Like silk." He leaned over to
plant a row of kisses across Face's shoulders and along his spine as his
hands continued to trace a path down Face's body from ribs to thighs.

 Face realized with some trepidation that his body was reacting to
Murdock's intimate touch, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do about it.
He shifted himself slightly onto his right hip, hoping the light was too
dim for Wright to see him blush.

 Murdock hooked an arm under Face's shoulder and gently turned him onto
his back. Noting Face's embarrassment, he pressed himself close to Face's
side so that his own arousal was evident. Face's eyes widened, and he
turned his face to meet Murdock's eyes as his breathing quickened.

 "You're doing fine," Murdock whispered too low for the listening devices
to pick up over the music. "Turn off your brain and just let your body
have its way."

 Face nodded but swallowed hard as Murdock kissed him again. The fingers
of Murdock's left hand trailed over his chest and stomach. Face remained
still, eyes closed, as Murdock's kisses moved down his neck to his chest.
He gasped aloud when he realized what Murdock's tongue was doing to him.
Murdock lifted his head to look at Face, realized the reaction had been
one of pleasure, not of fear, and returned to his task.

 Face lifted one hand to stroke the back of Murdock's head, hardly even
aware of what he was doing. Finally, he opened his eyes and found himself
looking directly at the spot where the hidden camera lay. Murdock happened
to glance up at him then and knew exactly what he was looking at. He
scooted back up the bed and took Face's head between his hands, forcing
him to make eye contact.

 "It's just us," he breathed. "Nobody else matters. Nobody else exists.
Make yourself believe it."

 Face nodded and kept his eyes on Murdock as Murdock moved to lay atop
him, slipping his arms under Face's shoulders to hold him.

 "Not too heavy for you, am I?" he asked.

 Unable to speak, Face shook his head.

 For long minutes, Murdock lay still, letting Face get used to the feel of
Murdock's body pressed against his as they kissed. Then gently, slowly, he
began to move his hips. "You're beautiful," he murmured. "So beautiful."
His lips found Face's again, and he felt Face's body move in response to
his, tentatively at first, then with greater urgency. And then they were
lost in each other.

 Wright watched as first Rich and then Paul climaxed. Their movements
slowed and they lay still for a long time, holding each other close.
Finally Paul rolled off of Rich, snagged a towel from the nightstand, and
cleaned them both off. Rich lay on his back, eyes closed, utterly spent.
Wright reached out to caress the screen again before Paul pulled the
covers over Rich, extinguished the candles, shut off the music, and
climbed back in bed to pull Rich into his arms. Wright frowned. He had to
have Richard Todd. He had to!

 Chapter 9

 Face woke slowly the next morning, roused by the smell of fresh coffee.
He turned over on his back and saw Murdock sitting up in bed sipping
coffee and sketching. Face hauled himself upright, squinting at the clock.
It was only five a.m.

 "Room service been by already?" Face asked.

 "I went downstairs for this." Murdock gestured at the carafe on the table
across the room. "I'll get you some."

 "No, I'll do it. You can keep working." Figuring there probably wouldn't
be anyone up this early to see him, Face walked across the room, fixed a
cup, and brought it back to the bed."

 "What're you doing?" he asked as he climbed back into the bed and under
the covers.

 "Some preliminary sketches for Mr. Wright," Murdock answered. "Take a
look at this one."

 Face almost choked on his coffee as Murdock showed him a picture of a
sequin-studded straightjacket in black-and-white prison stripes. He
managed not to laugh aloud, just in case they were being observed. "A bit
flashy, I think," he said. "But it's a good start."

 "Yeah, I suppose you're right," Murdock said, erasing the image. "What if
I come with you this morning while you work? Maybe being in his office
soaking up the ambience will inspire me. And when Mr. Wright comes in, I
can do a color analysis, decide if he's a winter or a spring. My first
inclination is winter, but I could be wrong."

 Despite their performance the previous night, Murdock was obviously not
willing to leave him alone with Wright. "I suppose it'd be alright for
awhile," Face answered.

 "He's such a great guy, welcoming us both like this," Murdock enthused.
"How could you ask for a better boss? He treats you like a son!"

 Murdock obviously didn't think it was too early for someone to be up and
watching.

 "I think of him that way, too," said Face. "I wish my father had been
like him."

 If Wright were watching them, he should be just about apoplectic by now.
What a blow to the ego to be considered a father figure to someone he was
trying to seduce! Murdock smiled at the thought.

 Face turned toward Murdock and laid a hand on his thigh. "I don't think I
said a proper thank you last night."

 "Well, you fell asleep pretty quickly."

 "Did I? Not very romantic of me. I'm sorry."

 "Don't be sorry," said Murdock, reaching up to stroke Face's bare
shoulder. "Your climax was all the thanks I needed, baby."

 Face looked down, blushing. "Now that I've let you have your way with me,
you evil man, are you gonna go away and never call me again?"

 Murdock laughed aloud. Taking Face's cup and setting it on the nightstand
with his own, he drew Face into his arms. "I'd call you every five minutes
if you'd let me get away with it!" he said. "I'll never be able to get
enough of you." Face settled against Murdock's chest, listening to his
steady, slow heartbeat. "Last night was fantastic. I
didn't...remember...what a wonderful lover you are. Thank you."

 "You're welcome," Murdock answered, holding him close as they dozed off.

 Wright snapped off the monitor impatiently. The boy obviously loved his
partner. For the moment, anyway, killing him was not an option. He'd just
have to figure out something else.

 Face and Murdock entered Wright's office an hour later with two cups of
coffee, Murdock's sketch pad, and a satchel of color swatches. Closing the
door behind them, Face made a show of going around switching on lights and
Murdock of holding color swatches up to various objects in the room while
rambling on about picking up Mr. Wright's aura. When they determined from
their examination that Wright had not had listening devices or cameras
installed in this room as well, Face produced a set of lockpicks and sat
at Wright's desk.

 "Keep an eye on the hall," said Face as he picked the lock on the file
drawer. "We probably don't have much time."

 "That seems a really obvious place to keep incriminating evidence," said
Murdock doubtfully.

 "I know, but it may be its very obviousness that makes it a good place to
hide something," Face replied as he completed his task and pulled open the
drawer.

 Murdock opened the door a crack, listening intently. Behind him he could
hear Face going through file folders. Ten minutes later, the paper
rustling stopped. Murdock risked a glance over his shoulder and saw Face
looking intently at the papers in one folder, his lips moving silently.
Murdock knew he was memorizing the information. Face had a phenomenal
memory, especially for numbers. Careful not to disturb him, Murdock
returned his attention to the hallway.

 Face had just finished with the contents of the file drawer when Murdock
hissed, "Company's coming!"

 Swiftly Face closed and relocked the cabinet and moved to a chair on the
other side of the desk while Murdock arranged himself elegantly in a
nearby armchair and began sketching.

 Wright was expecting Murdock but wasn't pleased to see him when he came
in. Nevertheless, he returned Murdock's greeting pleasantly.

 "Good morning, Rich," he said to Face as he accepted the cup of coffee
Face had risen to get for him.

 "Good morning, sir," Face returned.

 "I trust you passed a pleasant evening after I retired," Wright said as
he moved to his chair and sat down.

 Face allowed himself a shy glance at Murdock, who grinned back at him.
"Yes, we did," he answered simply.

 "Have you had a chance to look at those financial statements I gave you
yesterday?" Wright asked.

 Face nodded. He had studied them in detail. It wouldn't do to look like
he was slacking on the job he'd been hired to do. "Everything seems to be
in order, sir, but some of the interest amounts had been figured
incorrectly. I fixed them and revised the totals. Now we only have to see
if they match what you have in your records."

 "You haven't tried to do that?" Wright asked.

 "No, sir. I figured if I was supposed to be looking at them, they
wouldn't be personal," answered Face.

 Standing, Wright fished a key from his pocket and bent to unlock the file
drawer and pull out a manila folder. "Actually, you couldn't have gotten
to them anyway," he said. "I keep this drawer locked."

 Face and Murdock exchanged an amused glance over Wright's back before
Murdock returned to his sketch. Wright straightened and handed the folder
to Face, who didn't miss the way Wright's fingers brushed his in the
process. "Will you check your totals against these?"

 "Sure," answered Face. Returning to his chair, he feigned great interest
in the file, though he'd already examined it and knew the numbers matched
his revised totals.

 As Face pretended to work, Murdock stood. "I wonder if I might have a few
minutes of your time," he said to Wright, his hands full of color
swatches.

 After breakfast, Wright hustled Face back into his office, this time
suggesting politely but in a tone that brooked no opposition that Paul
would find the den an excellent place to work on his sketches. Unable to
find a good reason to object, Murdock acquiesced. They had known that he'd
be unable to stay with Face every minute, and in a hurried and whispered
conversation on the way to the breakfast table, Face had assured him that
he'd be able to deal with any passes or groping that might come his way.
Wright wouldn't try anything too blatant at this point. 

 Except for a brief meeting with Keith and Dan midmorning, Face was
closeted with Wright until midafternoon, not even breaking for lunch.
Wright had Face reviewing personnel records, phone records, anything he
could think of to try to find who had hacked into his computer. Face made
list after list, trying to look helpful without actually fingering anyone.
While he had little or no sympathy for anyone in Wright's organization
save Dan and Keith, he didn't want to set anyone up for murder, either,
and that's what would happen to whoever Face's theft was laid on.

 Face was aware of Wright's gaze following him as he moved about the
office from file cabinet to desk and unconsciously took to crouching
rather than bending over when he realized where Wright's eyes rested most
of the time. For the most part Wright kept physical contact casual. When
Wright released him for his tennis game, Face crossed the room to return
files to one of the cabinets. There wasn't much room between the cabinets
and the table that stood between them and the small washroom just beyond.
On his way to the washroom, Wright had to squeeze behind Face's back to
get past the cabinet. Face jumped involuntarily as Wright put his hands on
Face's shoulders and allowed his groin to brush Face's backside as he
squeezed by. It was only a momentary touch, the kind of unavoidable
contact he'd had a hundred times with his team as they worked in close
quarters. When they did it, he was hardly even conscious of the touch
anymore, simply shifting out of their way as they had intended. When
Wright did it, it felt like a serious violation of his personal space. He
quickly finished with the files and was gone by the time Wright returned
from the washroom.

 Dan, Keith, and Murdock were waiting for Face on the tennis court.
"You've been busy," Keith commented as Face greeted them.

 "Yeah," said Face noncommittally.

 "Must be the new golden boy!" exclaimed Dan.

 "What happened to the last golden boy?" asked Murdock jokingly, using his
sketching pen to draw faces on the tennis balls.

 Dan and Keith looked at each other uneasily. "Well, I think he and Mr.
Wright had a falling out one day. In fact, it was at one of these
executive retreats. We never saw him again after we heard Mr. Wright
arguing with him. I assume he quit."

 "Jeez, that's too bad," said Face. "Mr. Wright seems like such a good
employer. You can't beat the benefits package, the pay is good, what's not
to like?"

 "Well, I don't know exactly what happened," answered Dan, "but Mr. Wright
was not happy for a long time after that. It's one of those subjects we
just don't talk about."

 "Well, if you ask me, it's pretty stupid to walk away from a job like
this," said Face casually. "I don't know how he thought he could do better
anywhere else."

 Keith looked ill at ease, shifting from foot to foot. "Well," he began,
"it was looking like he and Mr. Wright were...somewhat closer than...well,
than most employers and employees are."

 "I'm sure that was completely innocent," returned Face, bouncing a tennis
ball on his racket. "Wright had probably taken a fatherly interest in him
like he has in me."

 Keith didn't look convinced and didn't look any more at ease, but he said
no more as they began the game. 

 Chapter 10

 Face climbed the stairs, pulling off the shirt of his tennis outfit as he
headed into the bedroom. Walking into the bathroom, he began stripping off
his clothes as he waited for the water to warm. Murdock followed him.

 "Is this room wired too?" Face whispered, knowing the running water would
cover the sound of his voice.

 "Only for video, not for sound" answered Murdock, pulling off his own
clothes. "Who wants to listen to toilets flush?"

 "We need to talk," Face said.

 "We'll talk in the shower," said Murdock. "Let's hope they can't read
lips."

 "I haven't had this much company in a shower since I was in the army,"
Face grumbled. He stepped into the shower, lifting his face into the warm
spray. Murdock stepped in behind him but didn't touch him until Face
opened his eyes and saw him there. Looking at Murdock's grin, Face found
himself desperately wishing he really were Rich Todd. Murdock's affection
was genuine, Face knew that. But Murdock was also a consummate actor. What
had happened between them last night was just another role to him. And he
played it damned well. 

 Face stepped to the side as Murdock moved under the spray with him. As
their lips met, Face reflected that when this was all over, he'd probably
need a shrink worse than Murdock. Rich Todd was falling desperately in
love with Paul Huntington. And within weeks, both Rich and Paul were going
to cease to exist.

 "What's wrong?" asked Murdock.

 "Nothing," answered Face, reaching for the shampoo. "I guess it's
showtime, huh."

 "Yeah," agreed Murdock, taking the shampoo from him and squirting some
out into his hand. "This is baby shampoo!" he exclaimed.

 "So?" responded Face defensively. "I've got sensitive eyes. That
off-brand you've been buying makes me itch."

 "Poor baby," Murdock laughed. He placed the bottle back on the shelf and
turned back, hesitating. "It's okay for me to do this?" Murdock asked, not
sure how Face might react.

 "Yeah, it's okay," answered Face. "Let's give `em something to watch."

 Closing his eyes, Face steadied himself with a hand on the wall while
Murdock washed his hair. "You saved my ass last night," Face said softly.
"Thanks. I almost blew it."

 "It's okay," returned Murdock. "I didn't mean to set you off like that.
But it might have worked out for the best, anyway. If you react that way
again, he'll assume it's because of the assault."

 "Still, I'm sorry I lost it."

 "Don't be sorry," said Murdock softly. "Some things you never really get
over. I should know. I'm going to move you back under the spray now."

 Murdock's hands gently maneuvered Face backward until he stood under the
spray and the shampoo was rinsed out. When he opened his eyes, Murdock was
smiling at him. 

 "What?" Face asked.

 "Did I ever tell you you're really cute when you're wet?" 

 Face laughed and took the shampoo back. "Your turn," he said.

 "Don't be too enthusiastic," Murdock said as Face's hands massaged his
scalp. "My hair falls out easy." 

 "I'll be careful," said Face, "but I've always heard baldness was
supposed to be a sign of virility."

 "Ooh. Do you want me to shave my head?"

 "No, we've got plenty of time," said Face, wishing it were true. "We'll
wait for it to fall out by itself."

 Murdock let Face finish rinsing his hair, then reached for the bar of
soap, working up a lather before he reached for Face. As they moved closer
together, Murdock asked, "What were you so busy memorizing today?"

 "I think they're addresses of storage units, locker numbers, and possibly
lockers at the bus terminal too, although that's kind of tacky for someone
as sophisticated as Wright," answered Face. "They'll probably lead us to
other people who are holding on to at least some of the rest of the
information we need. I need you to get them to Hannibal tonight. You can
run into town for some pencils or something."

 Murdock rubbed soapy hands over Face's shoulders and arms, pleased to
note that Face was not pulling away from his touch. But he shook his head
firmly at Face's request.

 "No. I'm not leaving you alone in this house tonight."

 "But this is important!" Face insisted quietly.

 "Is it everything? Can we walk away from here tonight and not come back?"
asked Murdock.

 "No, it isn't everything," answered Face. "But it's something."

 "It'll wait for tomorrow," returned Murdock. "It's dangerous for you to
be here alone."

 Face was silent a moment. "What do you know that I don't?" he asked
quietly. 

 "That last golden boy left here in pieces," said Murdock, pulling Face
closer, rubbing his hands over Face's chest before reaching around to
caress his back. "He was offered much the same position as you have now,
under the same circumstances. And Wright killed him. Before we talked to
Keith and Dan this afternoon, I thought maybe he was here trying to dig up
dirt on Wright and got caught. But it's looking like Wright had the same
interest in him he's got in you."

 "You know I can break his neck if I have to," said Face. "I can handle
him."

 "Kill him and you'll never make it out of here alive. You know that as
well as I do. He's still got the help watching us like hawks. You'd have
to give in to save your life."

 Face sighed, accepting the truth of Murdock's words.

 "Your best shot is with me here," Murdock continued. "Wright won't expect
me to leave you before the weekend is through anyway. Tomorrow afternoon
we go back to the apartment. I'll contact Hannibal then and get the
information to him. In the meantime, I don't want to turn my back on him.
The longer we're here, the more he scares me. He wants you too bad."

 "Figures," said Face, looking away. "Nobody else ever wanted me, but now
I've got some power-crazed pervert lusting after my body."

 "You don't know that," whispered Murdock, resting a hand in the small of
Face's back. 

 "Don't know what?" asked Face.

 "That nobody else ever wanted you. Maybe you just never noticed." 

 Face's mind whirled in confusion as Murdock kissed him softly. Was that
Paul talking again? Would it even be smart to ask? Did Murdock feel
anything but the kind of fierce protectiveness he often displayed when one
of the team was in danger? 

 He moaned softly when Murdock's tongue slid into his mouth and returned
the kiss with equal fervor. This time he didn't even flinch as Murdock's
soapy hands slid over his buttocks, pulling him close, his caress gentle
as his fingers moved in lazy circles over Face's back and buttocks. Jesus,
could it be? Had this really been right in front of him all these years?
Not one of the lovers he'd taken for the last fifteen years had ever made
him feel this...this desire that was more than physical, that reached to
the very core of his being. Slowly Murdock's hands slid back around to
Face's chest and down the front of his body, and Face gasped when Murdock
began to fondle him gently. Murdock wrapped his other arm around Face's
waist, pulling him close. Face trembled, his body responding to Murdock's
skillful touch. 

 As he climaxed, Face pulled away from the kiss to bury his face in
Murdock's neck, his arms encircling Murdock tightly, knees nearly buckling
from the intensity of his reaction. "Oh, my God," he whispered. "What are
you doing to me?"

 Murdock understood it for the rhetorical question it was. He bent his
head close to Face's ear. "This is what it feels like to be wanted," he
said quietly. "To be touched by someone without having to do anything to
earn it, without having to con them into giving it to you. Just because
they want to. Because they love you."

 Face looked up at Murdock, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "If this is
part of your act, I'm gonna kill you myself," he whispered fiercely.

 "No act," Murdock assured him. "For me, it's never been an act."

 Satisfied, Face rested his head on Murdock's shoulder again, content for
awhile simply to be held, to feel Murdock's warm hands moving over him.
How could he have lived without this for so long? He hoped it was driving
Wright insane. As his body stilled, Face looked up at Murdock, reaching up
to kiss him. He'd never initiated any kind of non-violent physical contact
with another man before Murdock, and he was still unsure how to proceed.
Murdock's own arousal had obviously not been satisfied yet. Tentatively,
Face allowed his hands to trail over Murdock's chest as he looked up at
him shyly. "Some Romeo," Face said self-deprecatingly. "I'm afraid to go
past first base with you!"

 Murdock smiled, taking Face's hand and pushing it down the front of his
own body. "Let me show you," he said softly.

 Eventually they finished their shower and went down to dinner hand in
hand. The wine had already been poured, and the salad was just being
served as they got to the table. During dinner Face began to feel drowsy.
The effects of too many sleepless nights, he supposed, as he fought back a
yawn. Too tired to eat, he only picked at his food. Curiously, Murdock was
showing the same symptoms, but that was to be expected. He'd had too many
sleepless nights himself, lately, and too much worry. The two retired
before dessert, with apologies to their host and fellow guests.

 Face's legs felt heavier and heavier as he trudged up the stairs. This
wasn't just too little sleep. Something was wrong. They barely made it to
their room before they collapsed on the floor. Face clutched weakly at
Murdock. Still mindful of the listening devices, he whispered, "What's he
done to us?"

 Murdock shook his head. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry," he whispered weakly.
"Whatever you do, don't...don't give him...an excuse to hurt you.
Stick...to...the...plan." Murdock lost consciousness, and Face was quick
to follow.

 Face's return to consciousness was accompanied by a violent headache and
nausea that tied his gut in knots. Moaning, he tried to roll onto his
side. Someone turned him, held his head while he vomited, then helped him
lie down. He opened his eyes as a dark, blurry form bent over him. He
flinched away from the hand that was laid gently on his forehead.

 "Rich?" It was Dan's voice. Unable to recall where he was or what had
happened, Face remembered only that he was supposed to stick to the plan.

 "Paul?" he asked groggily. "Where's Paul?"

 "He's in our room," answered Dan. "He's quite ill too, but he should be
okay."

 "What happened?" asked Face, blinking to try to bring things into focus.

 "I'm not sure," answered Dan. "Keith and I saw you struggling up the
stairs and figured you must be sick. We followed you up here and found you
both unconscious on the floor."

 "Mr. Wright?" Face asked.

 "He's just downstairs; shall I get him?"

 "No!" answered Face quickly. "Don't...don't."

 "He's been talking with a doctor on the phone. Thinks perhaps it's a
touch of food poisoning, though I don't see how that can be. We ate the
same thing as you, and more of it."

 "Dunno," said Face weakly. "Paul?"

 "He's still unconscious, but he's breathing, his color looks good, and
his temperature and pulse are both normal. How are you feeling?"

 "Like shit," answered Face, darkness drawing him down again. 

 "Just close your eyes and rest," Dan advised him. "Keith and I'll drive
you back home tomorrow if you're not up to it."

 Face nodded.

 "I'll leave you, then," said Dan.

 "No! Please...please stay," said Face. "Stupid, but... hate to be...
alone." He fought to remain conscious.

 "Sure, I'll stay," said Dan soothingly. "Just relax."

 "Wake me...when Paul... comes to" said Face.

 "Yeah, I'll wake you," said Dan. "Rest now."

 Sick and dizzy, Face closed his eyes and drifted into darkness.

 Twenty minutes later, Wright entered the room. Dan looked up from the
magazine he was reading. "Hi, Mr. Wright. What'd the doctor say?"

 "Bedrest, fluids, the usual."

 "Sure is strange how that hit them so fast."

 "I've talked to the house staff. I'm told Rich and Paul were drinking
champagne in here last night. Perhaps there was something toxic in that."

 "I suppose it could be," said Dan.

 "He asleep?" asked Wright.

 "Yeah."

 "Why don't you go on back to your room? There's nothing more you can do
for him here," suggested Wright.

 "That's alright. He asked me to stay," said Dan. "Doesn't like to be
alone when he's sick."

 "I'll stay with him," said Wright. "You can go check on Paul. Rich wanted
to know when he woke up."

 "Alright, then," said Dan. "One of us'll be back when Paul comes to."

 Wright nodded absently as Dan left the room. He moved to sit on the side
of the bed and watched Rich sleep. Damn those two anyway! he thought to
himself. If they hadn't interfered, he'd have Rich safely ensconced in his
own room now, exploring that perfect body, teaching it what real pleasure
was. Now he'd have to be content with just a few minutes alone with this
beautiful man. 

 He crossed the room to the door, locked it, and returned to the bed,
pulling off the covers. Rich didn't stir, and his breathing didn't change.
He was deeply asleep, and the aftereffects of the drug Wright had slipped
in their wine would probably keep him that way.

 He laid one hand on the flat stomach, feeling it rise and fall with
Rich's breathing. It felt as he'd imagined it would...hard muscle under
incredibly soft skin. He allowed his hand to move up Rich's body, over the
ribs to the smooth expanse of his chest. He rubbed his thumb over a
nipple, felt it harden under his caress before he moved his other hand up
and rhythmically stroked both nipples with his thumbs, rubbing gently at
first, then harder and harder until he could feel the warmth of chafed
skin under his thumbs. He bent to take a nipple in his mouth as he'd
watched Paul do last night, knowing he could do it better. He could make
this man moan in ecstasy, beg for his touch. He knew he could. His other
lovers hadn't appreciated his ability, but they hadn't been perfect. Rich
was perfect. Rich would know how to appreciate him. His jaw tightened as
he imagined how it could be, and he bit down hard, tasting blood. Rich
moaned but didn't come to. But he obviously liked the feeling. Wright took
the other nipple in his mouth and bit down, lapping blood, moving his
mouth and biting again and again, wanting to hear that delightful sound
once more. Rich continued to moan, his head moving feebly against the
pillow.

 "Yes, baby, you like that don't you? I knew you would," Wright said. He
waited patiently for Rich's breathing to even out again before moving his
hand toward Rich's groin. He eased Rich's legs apart, not touching yet,
just looking. He wanted this experience to be perfect for both of them.

 In the next room, Murdock was vomiting violently into a basin as Keith
tried to keep him from falling out of bed. When he finished, he lay back
on the bed shakily as Keith bathed his face with a cool cloth. Finally
opening his eyes, he saw Keith standing over him and Dan seated at the
foot of the bed. He looked around wildly and realized he was not in his
own room.

 "Rich!" he cried, struggling to sit up, fighting a wave of dizziness.
"Where's Rich?"

 "Back in your room," said Keith. "He's gonna be okay. Relax."

 Murdock clutched his midsection as his guts twisted.

 "You sure he's there? Is he alone?"

 "No, he's not alone. It's alright. Mr. Wright is with him."

 "Shit!" Murdock jumped out of the bed and promptly collapsed on the
floor. Keith pulled the basin over as Murdock vomited again. He pushed
them away when they tried to help him back to the bed, struggling to rise.

 "Paul!" said Dan, sounding alarmed. "What's the problem? He's alright." 

 "No!" cried Murdock, "I...I have to get to him...I have to!" "Alright,
alright," said Keith soothingly as he assisted Murdock to his feet. "We'll
go." He looked at his partner, shrugging.

 "Why did you leave him alone?" said Murdock miserably, trying to stay
conscious.

 "Mr. Wright told me to come stay with you so I could go back and tell him
when you..." Dan stopped abruptly. Wright had reminded him Rich wanted to
know when Paul came around, but Rich had been asleep twenty minutes before
Wright came in. How had he known?

 Keith was struggling to put a robe around Murdock when Dan came to take
his other arm and help him out of the room and down the corridor.

 Wright combed his fingers through the soft hair that grew at Rich's
crotch. Later they'd shave that off. Wright didn't like body hair much. He
wanted his lovers to look a certain way. Lean, muscled, hairless. Rich
would be pleased with the improvement. 

 Face struggled through a gray haze to consciousness. Something was wrong.
He struggled to process the sensations his body was sending his confused
brain. He was on his back. He was naked, cold. Somebody was...was touching
him! He wanted to cry out, to pull away, but he couldn't quite get his
body to move. He dragged his eyes open and recognized Ted Wright sitting
on the bed. His hands were between Face's legs, stroking, squeezing,
pinching, pushing his legs apart. Wright didn't notice he was awake. My
God, where was Murdock? Why wasn't he here? Stick to the plan, stick to
the plan...that was all he could remember. Don't give him an excuse to
hurt you. Shit! It already hurt! Face closed his eyes, his breath coming
in quick gasps. Mistaking it for arousal, Wright continued to fondle him
roughly. In his mind Face screamed in abject terror, but he forced himself
to lie still even when he felt he could finally get his limbs to move. The
small part of his mind that was still working rationally knew he didn't
stand a chance in his drugged state. Dear God, how had he gotten into this
again? For almost fifteen years, nobody had touched him intimately without
his consent, without his being fully aware of and directing their actions.
He'd sworn he'd never again let himself feel the helpless, hopeless shame
he'd felt in the prison camp. And it was happening again.

 Footsteps hurried down the corridor, the doorknob rattled, and someone
knocked loudly. Wright released him with a muffled curse and hurriedly
threw the covers over him before he went to the door. As he opened it,
Murdock practically fell into the room, supported by Keith and Dan.

 "Is everything alright?" Dan asked. "Why did you lock the door?"

 "I didn't want the house staff to barge in and bother him." replied
Wright.

 Breathing heavily, Murdock stumbled toward the bed, dragging his
supporters with him. They helped him to the bed, where he crawled up and
lay next to Rich, glaring balefully at Wright. Keith turned to Wright with
a bright smile. "He insisted we bring him here as soon as he woke up!
Thanks for coming by, Mr. Wright. Dan and I will take care of them now.
You should probably get some sleep. You've got meetings early tomorrow
morning."

 As Wright was leaving the room, Rich was rolling over and vomiting again,
his body seized with violent shaking. Dan helped him, cleaned him up, and
lay him back on the bed next to Murdock, who was struggling mightily to
stay awake. "Paul...Paul!" Rich cried, reaching for him blindly.

 Using his last bit of strength, Murdock pulled the trembling Face into
his arms. "I'm here," he said weakly. "Sleep now...shh."

 Dan and Keith settled into chairs across the room, troubled by the bits
and pieces of a puzzle they each saw falling into place. They exchanged a
long look before settling back to keep track of their charges for the
night.

 Dan and Keith worried as neither Rich nor Paul slept much that night.
Despite the drug in their systems, they continued to struggle back to
wakefulness. Rich in particular seemed afraid to sleep, curled into a
tight ball next to Paul's side whenever he was awake and not vomiting. By
morning they were slightly more aware of their surroundings and capable of
coherent conversation, but that was about as far as it went. 

 "Shall I drive you two back to your apartment?" asked Keith as he handed
Rich his T-shirt. Rich slipped on the shirt without coming out from under
the covers, but Paul struggled out of bed and stood shakily as Dan helped
him pull on some clothes.

 "Thanks, but I think we're gonna call my dad," said Paul. He glanced over
to where Rich was attempting to finish dressing without being seen. "I'm
not sure either one of us is up to taking care of the other right now."

 "Well, one of us will drop your car off at your apartment this afternoon,
then. Boy, whatever was in that champagne you two were drinking must've
been pretty potent," said Keith.

 Murdock nodded without answering. He knew that whatever had been slipped
to them was strong and that because Face had skipped lunch and eaten
little dinner, the effects were harder on him. He cursed himself for
having been so careless; he should have seen this coming. He didn't know
yet exactly what had happened last night when Wright was alone with Face,
but he could tell by Face's expression and his unwillingness to let the
others see or touch him that it had been bad. Hannibal was going to kill
him. This is exactly what he was supposed to have been guarding against,
and he'd let it happen.

 Chapter 11

 "Dad?"

 "Paul? Is that you?"

 "Yeah, it's me."

 Hannibal frowned. Murdock didn't sound good. Something was wrong. "What's
the matter? You sound sick."

 "Um, I am. Food poisoning, I think. Rich and I are both pretty sick."

 "Where are you, son? Still at Mr. Wright's estate?"

 "Yeah."

 "We'll pick you up there. We'll swing by your apartment on the way and
pick up some clothes for you. Do you need anything else?" "Just some
medicine. Rich is having a hard time with his stomach." Hannibal could
tell from the noise in the background that that was true. 

 "Sure, son, I'll take care of everything. Can you hold on for another
sixty minutes?"

 "Yeah, Dad," answered Murdock tiredly. This conversation had taken about
all the energy he had. "See you later."

 Hannibal hung up and turned to B.A., who sat watching him expectantly.
"Looks like my days as a soda jerk are over," he said. "Something's gone
wrong."

 "They in danger?"

 "For now, no. Whatever it was, it's already happened. But they're both
sick; I want `em out of there."

 B.A. reached for his keys. "Plan didn't work?"

 Hannibal shrugged. "Could still be salvageable. We'll see."

 They were supposed to be coming in from L.A., not from right outside the
estate, so they sat in the van impatiently, Hannibal worrying over what
could have gone wrong, until B.A. judged enough time had passed and
started the van, pulling out from behind the bushes and onto the main
road.

 Face sat in an armchair in the bedroom, looking out the open window and
toying absently with the pull cord for the blinds. Murdock sat in the
other chair, eyes closed, trying to force back the nausea that was
threatening to send him back to the bathroom to empty his stomach. There
was a knock on the door, and Ted Wright stepped into the room.

 "How are you two feeling this morning?" he asked, standing just inside
the doorway.

 Knowing he had to keep up appearances, Face smiled weakly as he turned in
his chair. "A little better," he said, but he didn't sound like he meant
it.

 "I'm really sorry about all this. I'll get in touch with someone at the
winery for you and let them know about that bottle of champagne." He
crossed the room to stand in front of Face.

 Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me, Face begged silently.
Wright squatted in front of him, laying his hands on Face's knees. Face
fought for control as he met Wright's eyes.

 "Take a couple of days off, Rich. Get yourself to feeling better, and
when you come back to work, we'll pick up where we left off."

 Face nodded slowly. "Thanks," he whispered.

 With a knowing wink, Wright squeezed his knees then stood, extending his
hand to Murdock.

 "Take care of yourself, Paul. I trust you'll be coming by soon as well to
show me those sketches?" Murdock took his hand, wishing he could twist the
arm behind Wright's back and break it. "Yes," he answered. "I'll be
working on them."

 "See you later, then," said Wright, leaving the room with one last
backward glance at Face.

 As soon as Wright was gone, Face stumbled to the bathroom and emptied his
stomach again. 

 Murdock looked out the window to see the van coming up the long drive.
Wright had evidently left instructions that they were to be allowed to
enter. He sighed in relief as B.A. got out of the van to open the door for
Hannibal and then stood with arms folded, looking menacing as he waited.
As Murdock watched, Hannibal, dressed as the prosperous businessman he was
supposed to be, climbed the short flight of stairs to the front door where
he was greeted immediately by Wright. Holding onto the furniture along the
way, Murdock made his way into the bathroom to find Face leaning heavily
against the sink as he rinsed his mouth and splashed cold water on his
face.

 "They're here," Murdock said softly.

 Face nodded. "I...I don't know if I can make it down the stairs," he
said, swaying. 

 Murdock eased him to the floor and sat down with him. "I know what you
mean," he said. "God, Face, I'm so sorry."

 "Not your fault," Face whispered. "Just...just have to get out of here."
Hannibal and Wright appeared in the bathroom doorway. Face's vision swam
as he looked up. 

 Hannibal crouched in front of them, dismayed at their appearance.
Normally overdressed for every occasion, Face had managed to struggle into
only a T-shirt and jeans, shoving bare feet into tennis shoes that he
hadn't even had the strength to tie. Both men were unshaven, uncombed hair
hanging limply across their foreheads. He laid a hand on each of their
shoulders, feeling them both tremble under his touch, and asked
solicitously, "How are you?"

 "I'm not sure we can get off the floor," replied Murdock for both of
them. 

 "We'll get you down," Hannibal assured him.

 "Why don't you help Paul, and I'll get Rich," suggested Wright, reaching
for Face's arm.

 Hannibal saw panic in Face's eyes. It was a look he seldom saw, and he
knew immediately what it meant.

 "I'll do it," said B.A., shouldering his way past Wright and into the
bathroom. He'd followed the others up the stairs, as anxious to get these
two out of here as Hannibal was. As Hannibal helped Murdock stand, B.A.
crouched in front of Face. "I'm gonna help you up, Mr. Todd," he said,
making sure Face knew it was him and not Wright. Face nodded gratefully as
B.A. put his hands under Face's armpits and lifted him effortlessly to his
feet. Drawing Face's arm across his shoulders, he got him down the stairs
and into the van as Dan and Keith followed with the bags. Wright turned to
Hannibal as he got Murdock settled into a seat and stepped back out of the
van. "You'll let me know how they're doing?"

 Hannibal accepted Wright's outstretched hand. "We'll take good care of
`em," he said, promising nothing.

 The drive back to town was silent. Hannibal knew neither one of his men
were up to answering questions, and Face was about to lose his battle with
his stomach by the time they arrived at Hannibal's place. For his part,
B.A. kept his eyes on the road and on the green sedan that was following
them.

 "Well, they know where I live now," commented Hannibal as the sedan
passed them, continuing on up the road after B.A. pulled the van over in
front of the house. The two story Tudor-style home was elegant, the
landscaping terribly conventional. Not to Hannibal's taste, but then, he
didn't have to live here. Not for long, anyway.

 "C'mon, you two," he said, reaching for Face's seatbelt buckle. "Let's
get you to bed."

 Barely conscious, Face allowed B.A. to assist him into a bedroom, where
he collapsed on the bed. 

 "You want me to help you?" B.A. asked, stepping back.

 Face shook his head.

 "I'm goin' to get you somethin' to drink," B.A. announced as he left the
room. "Need to flush that crap outta your system."

 Left alone, Face kicked off his shoes, peeled off his jeans and T-shirt,
and climbed shivering under the covers. Knowing that his illness was as
much emotional as physical only added to his shame. His chest hurt, his
nipples sore and chafed, the bites burning. He knew he needed to get some
antiseptic on them, but he didn't even want to look, didn't want to know
what had been done to him. His groin ached terribly. Pulling a pillow
against him to at least provide some semblance of protection between
himself and the world, he lay staring blankly at the opposite wall.

 B.A. returned with a glass of juice, setting it on the nightstand.

 "Need to drink that when you can," he announced gruffly.

 Face nodded but said nothing. B.A. sat on a chair by the bed, leaning
forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "That man hurt you?" he asked
softly.

 "I'm okay," Face whispered, still staring past B.A. at the wall.

 "That ain't what I asked," said B.A.

 "I'm okay," Face repeated. 

 "You want me to stay?" B.A. asked.

 "I'm okay." Face repeated his mantra. "Where's Murdock?"

 "Across the hall. Hannibal's seein' to him." "My fault," whispered Face.
"My fault."

 "Ain't nobody's fault; least not nobody here. Now you rest. Things'll
look better after you've had some sleep."

 Face closed his eyes, hugging the pillow tightly. B.A. stayed until
Face's breathing evened out and his body relaxed in slumber.

 Hannibal found B.A. pacing the hallway in front of Face's room when he
came out of the room where Murdock had finally stopped vomiting and fallen
asleep.

 "How's the fool?" B.A. asked.

 "He'll be alright," Hannibal answered, "once he gets some fluids in him
and gets some sleep. How's Face?"

 "Not doin' too good," B.A. answered. "I think that man hurt him."

 "I think so, too," agreed Hannibal grimly.

 "He don't want to talk about it," B.A. offered. "Won't admit he's hurt."

 "We'll let him sleep," said Hannibal. "I'll check him over later. Right
now he's too sick to think straight."

 "Whatever happened, he keeps sayin' it's his fault."

 "Murdock keeps saying it's his fault."

 "He say what happened?"

 "I didn't question him about it," Hannibal said. "He's under a lot of
strain as it is. He needs to sleep before he answers any questions. Much
as I'd like to go kick some ass right now, we need to let these two rest
and recover before we do anything else. C'mon, we've got other work to
do," he finished, heading downstairs.

 Hannibal opened the door to Murdock's room and looked in, as he had
several times in the last couple of hours. Murdock lay on his back, one
arm clutching the covers to his chest, sound asleep. He hadn't moved a
muscle since the last time Hannibal had checked. Quietly he closed the
door and moved to Face's room. Face's sleep had been much more troubled as
he tossed and turned, thrashing about. Having nothing left on his stomach,
he was reduced to painful dry heaves that sent him stumbling, sometimes
crawling, from the bed to the bathroom a couple of times an hour, but he'd
steadfastly refused all offers of assistance.

 Opening the door, Hannibal stepped softly into the room and found the bed
empty, the covers in disarray. He glanced toward the bathroom, thinking
Face was sick again, but that room was empty. With the curtains drawn, the
room was dim, so it was a moment before he spotted Face lying on the floor
in the corner, knees drawn up to his chest, a small, shivering, miserable
ball. He clutched the pillow to his chest as he had even when he knelt
over the toilet bowl. Knowing that trying to manhandle Face back to bed
would cause him to panic and simply bolt into a different corner, Hannibal
sighed and stripped a couple of blankets off the bed. He crossed the room
and crouched in front of Face, draping the blankets over him but being
very careful not to touch him in the process. B.A. stepped into the room
as Hannibal stood back.

 "Uh-oh. It's happenin' again."

 Hannibal nodded. "We'll get him back to bed after he's fallen asleep. In
the meantime, don't touch him."

 "I'm gonna kill the bastard that done this to him," growled B.A. softly.
"Ain't right. He's been doin' so good these past years."

 "You're gonna have to take a number and get in line," Hannibal answered,
his voice dangerously low.

 "Should we stay?" B.A. asked, watching Face stare wide-eyed at nothing.

 "No, he needs some privacy," said Hannibal. "He can't hurt himself in
here. Just keep checking on him. He'll be alright."

 "He better be," muttered B.A. as he turned to follow Hannibal out of the
room.

 They tried several times over the next few hours to persuade Face to
return to his bed, but every time they touched him, he jerked awake and
pressed himself further into the corner. Finally they just settled for
making him as comfortable as they could, setting a basin on the floor near
him in case he wouldn't come out of his corner even to vomit, and left him
alone. 

 Late in the afternoon, Murdock woke. He was disoriented for a minute
before he remembered where he was. Slowly he sat up, rubbing his hands
tiredly over his face. His stomach had finally stopped flip-flopping
whenever he moved, and except for a dull and persistent headache, he felt
better. His hands still shook, though, as he reached for the small glass
of juice that had been left on the bedside table for him. He was just
finishing it when Hannibal came into the room.

 "You'll need more of that," Hannibal said.

 "Not right now," Murdock answered. "Let's see if this stays down first."

 "Feel any better?"

 "Yeah, but I still feel like I could sleep for a week," said Murdock.
"How's Face?"

 "He'll be alright."

 Murdock knew an evasive answer when he heard one. "But how is he now?" he
asked again.

 "Well," admitted Hannibal, "he's not doing too well." He laid a
restraining hand on Murdock's arm as he attempted to get out of bed. "That
may not be a great idea right now," he said. 

 "What's happening?" demanded Murdock.

 "He's in the corner," answered Hannibal simply, knowing that would tell
Murdock everything.

 "Shit," said Murdock. "I have to go to him."

 "First I want to know what happened last night," Hannibal said. "He just
doesn't do this anymore."

 Murdock looked down, twisting a corner of the blanket viciously. "It's my
fault," he said.

 "I don't care whose fault it was," snapped Hannibal. "I only want to know
what happened. So tell me. Now!"

 "He drugged us. Our friends got to us before he did and put us to bed in
different rooms. Somehow Wright got them to leave him alone in the room
with Face." He fell silent.

 "How long?"

 "I don't know. I was still unconscious part of the time. Maybe twenty
minutes."

 "Hell," muttered Hannibal.

 "I don't know exactly what he did to him, but he did something, or Face
wouldn't be acting like this. He wouldn't let anyone see or touch him this
morning when the others were in the room, and when we were alone, we
couldn't speak freely."

 Hannibal nodded. "He bugged your room."

 Murdock nodded in return. "Video and audio."

 Hannibal watched Murdock closely, waiting for him to say something else,
but Murdock fell silent.

 "He wasn't convinced you were a couple?" he asked, unsure how else to
phrase the question.

 "He was convinced. That's why he had to get to Face while we were both
unconscious." He looked up at Hannibal guiltily. "I should've protected
him better. I let my guard down. I thought that as long as I was there,
Wright'd be satisfied just to watch us and not make a move on Face until
we were ready for it. This is all my fault."

 "It's impossible to foresee everything. You did what you could; now let
it go. Did you two get anything that'll help us?"

 "Face got some stuff, but I'm not sure if he'll remember it now. He said
it was addresses of storage facilities, locker numbers, stuff like that.
And he got some information from files he was snooping through the day
before yesterday, too, but he needed access to some of Wright's other
files to crosscheck them."

 Hannibal nodded but didn't comment. The addresses might yield some
valuable information, but he doubted it would be all the evidence they'd
need to bring Wright and his operation down. "Please, Hannibal, let me go
to him," pleaded Murdock. "He'll listen to me. Let me stay with him."

 "You're not well enough to play nursemaid yet," said Hannibal, noting
Murdock's waxen complexion.

 "I just want to be with him. He needs me. He'll go back to bed if I'm
there."

 Hannibal sighed. "Alright," he said reluctantly. He steadied Murdock as
he climbed out of bed and reached for a robe.

 Murdock groaned softly when he and Hannibal entered the dim room where
Face was curled up in the farthest, darkest corner. Most of the bedcovers
had been removed and laid over Face, who now lay with his eyes closed.
Hannibal stood in the shadows where he could see without being seen while
Murdock crossed the room softly and knelt by Face, watching him quietly.
Without saying anything, he lay down beside him. Sensing movement near
him, Face jerked awake again and cowered back.

 "It's just me, Face," whispered Murdock. "It's okay."

 "Paul?"

 "It's me, Murdock. It's okay. We're safe now. We're out of Wright's
house."

 Face didn't answer, only watching him closely. He tried to think, tried
to reason out where they were, but his mind absolutely refused to
function. There was a plan. Wasn't he supposed to stick to a plan? Who was
he supposed to be now? Why couldn't he think? 

 Murdock slowly reached out and stroked Face's fingers. Face was holding
the pillow so tightly, his knuckles were white. He allowed Murdock's
touch, tense but unresisting. Murdock ran gentle fingers over the back of
his hand, up his forearm and down, a soothing touch. "You're doing great,
Face," he said over and over. "Everything's okay; you're doing fine." 

 Slowly, slowly Face relaxed, responding to Murdock's reassuring words and
tender touch. It didn't matter who he was supposed to be. He just wouldn't
use names. Just play along. He could trust Murdock. As he relaxed his grip
on the pillow, Murdock lifted his fingers away from it.

 "Why don't we go to bed?" asked Murdock quietly. "It's really
uncomfortable over here."

 "Can't see me here," mumbled Face sleepily. 

 "Baby, Wright's not here," said Murdock. "Only Hannibal, B.A., and us.
We're safe. They'll look out for us."

 Face hadn't heard past the first sentence. "Not here?" he repeated. His
eyes roamed around the room, lighting in the corners of the ceiling.

 "No cameras here, Face. Nobody listening. It's just us." Slowly he lifted
Face's hand and began to ease the pillow away. Face resisted, trying to
pull it back. "It's okay, it's okay," Murdock repeated, finally pulling
the pillow away and dropping it behind him. He held out his arms. Face
crossed his own arms over his chest protectively but slid over into
Murdock's embrace, laying his head on his shoulder. Murdock held him close
for a few moments, kissing his forehead. "Your bed's a mess," he
whispered. "Let's go to my room and get some sleep. Can you make it? I'll
help you."

 Face nodded tiredly, clutching a blanket to himself as he allowed Murdock
to help him stand. Murdock wrapped the ends of it around Face's shoulders
before the two of them haltingly crossed the hallway to the opposite room.
Seeing Murdock had Face well in hand, Hannibal left them alone.

 Murdock eased Face onto the bed, and Face turned away, curling up on his
side.

 "Cold," Face whispered, tugging weakly at the covers to bring them up to
his neck.

 Climbing in behind him, Murdock covered Face warmly then curled himself
around his friend, pulling him into his arms. Face hissed in pain as
Murdock's hand inadvertently brushed his chest.

 "Sorry," Murdock apologized. "Relax now. You're safe here. Hannibal and
B.A. are right outside. We can sleep as long as we need to. Nobody's gonna
get past them." He continued to murmur comfortingly as Face relaxed
against him and both of them fell asleep.

 It was night before Murdock woke again. A light had been turned on in the
room, and two glasses of juice were waiting on the bedside table. In his
arms, Face was dead to the world. Murdock pulled away from him carefully.
Face rolled over onto his back as Murdock's support disappeared, but he
didn't wake. Murdock looked him over critically. His face was drawn and
pale, his eyes rimmed by dark circles. A bruise was developing on his
collarbone. Frowning, Murdock eased the covers back and almost gasped
aloud. Hearing a muffled curse behind him, he looked over to see Hannibal
standing near the foot of the bed looking at the same thing he was. Face's
chest was mottled with vivid red and black bruises, the nipples red and
swollen, outlined by the unmistakable pattern of inflamed human bite
marks. Clear fluid oozed from spots where the skin had been rubbed
entirely off. It was no wonder he hadn't wanted to be touched.

 "We've got to get those cleaned up before they get infected," said
Hannibal. 

 "Let me do it," said Murdock.

 Hannibal shook his head. "It's gonna wake him up, and it's gonna hurt
like hell. I'll need you to keep him calm."

 Unhappily, Murdock accepted Hannibal's reasoning. 

 "Shall I have B.A. come in and hold him?" asked Hannibal, not sure if
Murdock was up to the struggle.

 "No, I can do it," replied Murdock. 

 Hannibal looked at him doubtfully but left to gather what he needed while
Murdock gulped his juice and pulled on a pair of pants. B.A. did indeed
return with Hannibal, carrying a bowl of water and some towels, but he
only sat them down on the nightstand and crossed the room to sit in a
chair by the window.

 "They're back," he announced, looking through the curtains.

 "What're they doing?" asked Hannibal as he deposited antiseptic and gauze
pads next to the bowl.

 "Just sittin',"

 "Keep an eye on `em. I'll let you know if I need you over here." Hannibal
turned his attention to Murdock. "You ready?"

 Murdock nodded. He sat against the headboard of the bed next to Face,
pulling Face's arms up over his head and holding his wrists. Hannibal
wrung out a cloth and began scrubbing at one of the bites.

 Face woke with an agonized gasp, his hips arching off the bed as he
fought to pull away. Hannibal grabbed his legs, pushing him back to the
bed.

 "Take it easy, kid!" he said. "Lie still!"

 Face opened his eyes, looking around wildly. Seeing Murdock sitting above
him, holding his arms, he finally grasped the situation and lay still.

 "I'm alright, I'm alright," he said shakily. "Shit, what a way to wake
up."

 "Sorry," Hannibal apologized. "This has to be done before those bites get
infected."

 Looking down at himself, Face saw the marks for the first time. Shamed,
he closed his eyes and turned his head away. "Go ahead," he said softly.

 Exchanging a look with Murdock, Hannibal returned to his task. Face lay
silent and mostly still throughout, though his muscles trembled with the
strain. Eventually Hannibal straightened and laid aside the gauze pads
he'd been using. "Done," he said.

 Face nodded without opening his eyes, trying to steady himself with a
couple of deep breaths. Murdock released his wrists, and he lowered his
arms, wiping sweaty palms on the sheets. Murdock slid down to recline on
one elbow beside him. "How you doin?" he asked.

 Face essayed a smile that was almost successful. "Okay," he whispered,
opening his eyes. "Stop worrying."

 "Can you drink something?"

 " I think so. Can you help me sit up?"

 "Sure thing." Murdock slid an arm under Face's shoulders to raise him
while Hannibal piled pillows behind him. Face managed to get his arms
under himself and lever himself to a seated position, wincing at the pain
in his chest and between his legs.

 Hannibal sat carefully on the side of the bed next to Face, careful not
to jostle him, and handed him the juice. "Drink it slowly or it'll come
right back up," he advised. Face nodded and sipped obediently, allowing
Hannibal to steady his shaking hand. Hannibal looked him over carefully as
he drank. While Face was coherent now, a definite improvement, his skin
was still an alarming shade of gray, and his discomfort was obvious from
the way he breathed.

 "Sorry I can't give you anything for the pain, kid," said Hannibal, "but
I don't know how it would mix with whatever you've got in you now."

 Face nodded without looking up, then handed the cup back after several
small sips. "That's all I can do for now," he said. He leaned back against
the pillows, closing his eyes tiredly for a few moments. Soon he pushed
back the covers and moved to get out of bed.

 "What's wrong?" asked Hannibal.

 "Nothing's wrong," Face answered, a touch impatiently. "I'm going to the
bathroom!"

 Hannibal moved off the bed as Face carefully slid out. Murdock slid off
the bed as well and put an arm around Face's waist. "Let me help you," he
said.

 Hannibal held up the bottle of antiseptic. "Do you need this?" he asked.

 Face shook his head, looking at the floor. "It's just bruising," he
answered, his voice low. "Just aches."

 "I'll get you some ice," said B.A., rising to leave the room.

 Face nodded his thanks, not looking up. He accepted Murdock's assistance
in the bathroom, taking the time to brush his teeth and wash his face. He
slowly made his way back to the bed, exhausted. 

 Looking grim as he stripped off his pants and climbed into the bed beside
Face, Murdock wordlessly accepted the towel-wrapped ice pack from B.A. and
helped Face position it comfortably as the other two shut off all but one
small light across the room and stepped out. "Careful with that," he
whispered into Face's ear. "You're always saying you're gonna freeze your
balls off, but I don't think you really want to do it." At that, Face
smiled, a genuine smile. "There," said Murdock, smiling in return. "I love
it when you smile. Shows off all those perfect white teeth."

 "Don't mention teeth!" said Face, shivering as he shifted gingerly.

 "Sorry," said Murdock contritely.

 "Hey, it's okay," said Face, seeing the hurt in Murdock's face. "It's a
joke."

 "I know," said Murdock, running his fingers through Face's damp hair.
"It's just hard to see you hurting like this."

 Face sighed and closed his eyes. Murdock's fingers felt good in his hair.
"My lips don't hurt," he said and sighed again as Murdock slipped an arm
under his shoulders and carefully bent to kiss him.

 Later they lay side by side in silence, their fingers entwined.

 "I was in the corner again, wasn't I?" Face asked quietly.

 "Yeah, you were," answered Murdock.

 "I'm sorry," said Face.

 "No, don't apologize," Murdock said comfortingly. "I'm the last person
you should apologize to for having..."

 "Mental problems?" Face finished for him.

 "It's not a mental problem," said Murdock. "I've got mental problems.
You're just having an emotional reaction to a traumatic experience.
Perfectly normal."

 "Thanks, Doc," said Face.

 "Bill'll be in the mail," murmured Murdock.

 "Wright knows where we are, doesn't he? He's watching the house."

 "Don't worry. He's not gonna get past B.A. and Hannibal. Just sleep. Let
them take care of the rest of it. You trust `em, don't you?"

 " `Course I do," said Face.

 "Then sleep. The colonel'll need your report in the morning. Until then,
you've done your part for awhile. Just rest."

 Chapter 12

 Hannibal turned as B.A. walked into the kitchen and sat down to eat the
meal Hannibal had prepared.

 "They ain't come back," he announced.

 "I doubt they're very far away," said Hannibal.

 "Think they'll try anything?"

 "It'd be stupid, but so is drugging and molesting your houseguest."

 "What're we gonna do about it?"

 "Right now, nothing. We can't report this assault, we can't pin any other
assaults on him, and we haven't got enough evidence of his other crimes
yet to take to the cops. For the moment, he's holding all the cards."

 "You ain't sending Face back in there, are you?"

 Hannibal sighed. "I don't want to."

 "But you `goin to anyway, ain't you?"

 "B.A.," said Hannibal, "I've been letting Face make his own decisions
about this operation, since he's the one on the inside."

 "Yeah, and look where it's got him," said B.A. bluntly. "Hidin' in
corners like a whipped dog."

 "I know, I know," replied Hannibal, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "But that
may be just why I have to let him go back."

 "Don't follow you," said B.A., reaching for the milk.

 "He feels very strongly about doing this the way he has planned, not
risking other men's lives, bringing down the organization from the inside.
And really, if it's going to come down, that's the only way it'll happen.
If I tell him he can't go back, he's going to believe it's because I've
lost faith in him. He's going to feel like he's been victimized twice."

 "You let him go back, he may be victimized more than that!"

 "Look, I don't like this any better than you do. But we have to do
something. Aside from his other crimes, which are bad enough, Wright's
lured other young men into his company and abused and killed them. He'll
do the same to others if we don't stop him."

 "Don't like usin' Face as bait!" B.A. declared stubbornly.

 "B.A., he's a grown man. For all that we all feel protective toward him,
you know he's not a little kid who needs it. He can kill as easily as you
can."

 B.A. raised his eyebrows doubtfully.

 "Well, maybe not as easily as you can," continued Hannibal, "but easily
enough.

 "Then how come he layin' in there with an ice pack between his legs?"

 "We hardly ever take a job that doesn't have risks," said Hannibal,
somewhat testily. "If he's willing to accept them, I have to let him go
back. God knows I'd rather just take Wright out with a shot between the
eyeballs, and I could do it, too. But we've never stepped that far outside
the law before, and I don't intend to start now."

 B.A. sighed, knowing it would be pointless to argue further. When it came
down to it, this was really between Hannibal and Face. "Murdock ain't
gonna like it," said B.A.

 "I know it," said Hannibal. "But he's also going to have to accept that
Face isn't his kid brother. He can't protect him all the time."

 "Kid brother, my ass!" exclaimed B.A. "Crazy fool ain't up there kissin'
no kid brother! He got it bad for Face!" he finished with a sly smile.

 "Well, you're unusually observant," commented Hannibal mildly.

 "Have to be dead not to see it," B.A. said gruffly. "Murdock been
followin' Face around like a big ol' sad puppy for years, `fraid to say
anything. And Face been chasin' women around, tryin' to fall in love for
just as long. `Bout time they figured it out. Stupid fools deserve each
other!" 

 It was about as romantic a speech as B.A. had ever made, and Hannibal was
impressed. "Somehow I thought you'd disapprove," Hannibal said. "I've
underestimated you."

 "Don't matter who you love, long as you got somebody," said B.A. "Ain't
my place to disapprove. And don't try to tell me you didn't see it comin'.
You been throwin' `em at each other for years."

 "Well, it finally worked, didn't it?" said Hannibal. "Nobody ever said a
plan couldn't take some time to come to fruition."

 B.A. stood to take his plate and Hannibal's to the sink. "Still don't
change the fact that Murdock ain't gonna want Face goin' back in there.
And ain't none of us gonna be able to be there to watch his back all the
time."

 "No, you're right. Murdock won't like it. But he'll respect Face's
wishes, even if he does try to talk him out of it."

 B.A. sat down again and looked Hannibal directly in the eye. "You gonna
be able to live with yourself if he don't come out of there? Or if he come
back so bad he spend the rest of his life hidin' in a corner?"

 Hannibal shook his head, suddenly looking and feeling his age. "I
remember every man I ever sent to his death, B.A.," he said. "You think
they don't weigh on my conscience or that I don't think about them every
time I send one of you into a dangerous situation?"

 "Gotta be done sometimes, I suppose" said B.A., relenting. "We all accept
the risk. Just don't want us sacrificing Face if we don't have to. He
almost as big a pain as Murdock sometimes, but I'm kinda used to havin'
him around."

 Hannibal stood. "I don't know about later," he said, "but at least
tonight we can keep him safe. I'll take first watch. You go get some
sleep."

 B.A. nodded and went upstairs, extinguishing lights as he went. Hannibal
lit a cigar, turned off the rest of the lights, and kept a silent vigil,
the shades of all the young men who'd died under his command keeping him
company as they did every time he kept watch over his men.

 Murdock woke early the next morning. Beside him Face lay on his back, his
head resting on Murdock's shoulder, staring up at the ceiling. Murdock
shifted a bit to look at him. Face's color looked better, but the dark
circles remained under his eyes. He didn't look like he'd slept well.

 "You feeling any better?" Murdock asked.

 "Some," said Face. "How're you?"

 "I think I'm okay now," said Murdock. "The thought of food doesn't make
me want to barf up my socks, anyway. Why're you awake already?"

 "Thinking."

 Murdock said nothing in response, but he pulled his arm out from under
Face's head, rolling onto his side to look down at him.

 Face reached up behind Murdock's head to pull him down for a kiss.
Finally releasing him, Face spoke quietly. "I have to go back."

 "I know."

 "I was afraid you'd try to talk me out of it."

 Murdock sat up and leaned against the headboard. As Face sat up
painfully, Murdock pulled him back against him. Face relaxed against
Murdock and closed his eyes.

 "I knew you'd do this," said Murdock. "I laid here last night thinking of
all the arguments I could to convince you to stay, all the things I could
threaten you with. But in the end, you're who you are, and I know you have
to do this because it's the right thing to do. It's killing me to do it,
but I agree with you. You have to go back."

 Face reached for Murdock's arms and pulled them around himself. "I love
you, Murdock," he said.

 "I love you too," Murdock said.

 Decision made and shared, Face finally slept.

 Showered, shaven, and dressed, Face sat next to Murdock on the living
room sofa, writing on a pad of paper. "Thanks," he murmured as B.A. put a
cup of coffee on the table in front of him. He continued to write
furiously, sometimes closing his eyes in concentration, sometimes shaking
his head in frustration, erasing something, and starting again. "Shit, I
should've done this yesterday," he muttered angrily as he leaned forward
over the pad. "I'm forgetting things."

 Murdock rubbed his shoulders comfortingly. "You couldn't even remember
your own name yesterday, Face, or where you were. You couldn't have done
this if your life depended on it. Just relax. It's all in there. Take your
time; it'll come back to you in a few minutes." He took away the pad and
pen, tossing them on the table and pressing Face against the back of the
couch. "Lean back here and close your eyes. Don't even try to think about
it. Just rest awhile."

 Face obeyed, slumping back and closing his eyes. Watching them, Hannibal
knew he'd made the right choice throwing them together all these years.
They were good for each other.

 Face discovered that Murdock was right. As he relaxed, he could visualize
again the papers he'd seen. Without opening his eyes, he began reciting
the information as if reading it off the papers. Murdock picked up the pad
and pen and recorded it. The information filled up three sheets of paper,
front and back. It was, thought Hannibal, an impressive display of memory.

 Accepting the pad from Murdock, Hannibal looked it over as Face sipped
his coffee. "Good work, Face," he said. "We'll start tracking these down.
Now what?"

 Face's fingers tightened on his cup. He didn't want arguments now.
Knowing he had Murdock's support, though, made it easier for him to say
the words. "I'm going back in."

 Dead silence greeted his words. He looked up at Hannibal, who puffed his
cigar and regarded him thoughtfully. "You sure this is the way you want to
handle it?" Hannibal asked.

 "It's the only way," Face said simply. "I have to go back, and I have to
find a way to get back to the estate. I'm sure it's where the rest of the
stuff is."

 Without a word, B.A. stood and left the room. Face watched him go but
said nothing more.

 "Alright," said Hannibal. "But you're gonna wait a few days. That'll give
us time to see what we've got here, and it'll give you time to heal."

 "I'm in no rush," Face admitted with a wan smile.

 "Murdock and I will go check out these addresses," said Hannibal. "B.A.
will stay here with you. And I want you to go back to bed and get some
rest."

 "How're you gonna get out of here?" asked Face. "Isn't Wright watching
the house?"

 "I've got a plan," said Hannibal. "How does pizza sound for lunch?"

 An hour later, the pizza delivery truck pulled up in front of the house.
Two lanky young men in celestial blue Heaven's Own Pizza shirts and hats
got out and started unloading two dozen pizzas.

 "Don't know why this freak insisted on two delivery people," grumbled one
of them uncelestially, loading up the other's arms with pizza boxes before
gathering up an armful himself. "Rich people always give lousy tips
anyway, and now we'll only have to split it."

 Staggering under the weight of the pizza, the other couldn't spare breath
for a reply. The front door opened and the boys were ushered into the
house. Three minutes later, they staggered back out, followed by a large,
irate black man. "Fools! What you think we gonna do with that much pizza?
Said two, not two dozen! Look like we're havin' a party here? You see any
cars? You see any people?"

 Moving with alacrity, the delivery boys dumped the boxes in the back of
the van and fled. B.A. returned to the house, slamming the door behind him
hard enough to rattle the windows. He stomped back into the kitchen where
two shirtless, hatless delivery boys sat looking with wide eyes at the
large bills sitting on paper plates before each of them.

 B.A. glanced out the window then turned to nod at Face. The green sedan
was still there. "Hope you boys like pepperoni!" said Face with a grin.

 Late that evening, Murdock and Hannibal slipped back in on foot. B.A.
went to the garage to start the van, and the pizza delivery boys pulled
themselves away from their video, donned their uniforms, and were ushered
into the back seat. "Now remember, boys," said Hannibal, "this is a top
secret government project. Your cooperation and your silence are saving
lives."

 The boys nodded, jaws working as they snapped gum in tandem.

 "Your van was hijacked and you were tied up and rolled down the
embankment." He gave them a length of rope, suitably knotted, to help them
prove their case. "You only just managed to escape. Got it?"

 "Yeah," said one of them. "And we'll roll around in the dirt some so we
look like we've been down there awhile!"

 "Good thinking, son," said Hannibal. "You'll make a fine government agent
someday."

 B.A. drove to a grocery store several miles away, followed by the green
sedan. He parked at the far end of the lot, and the boys slipped out,
making their way undetected across the street by keeping to the shadows.
That was, they knew from videos, the way real spies did it. Meanwhile,
B.A. kept the men in the sedan occupied by wrestling with the grocery
carts in the front of the store, making satisfying and distracting
crashing noises as he struggled to get the first one free of the rest.
Finally, a tiny old lady, tired of waiting for her turn, rested her cane
on the side of the cart.

 "Here, sonny, let me help you with that," she said.

 B.A. stepped aside, and the cart slid neatly out as she pulled. "There,
that wasn't so hard, now was it?" she said as she turned the cart and
surrendered it to him.

 B.A. managed to look chagrined. "Thanks ma'am," he said, "but you can
keep it. I'll get another."

 "It's alright," she replied, turning back to the carts. "There's a line
forming. You go ahead and take that one."

 Figuring he'd called enough attention to himself to allow the boys time
to get safely across the street and down the embankment, B.A. graciously
accepted the cart and entered the store, pulling the shreds of his dignity
around himself as he headed for the dairy section.

 Chapter 13

 Face opened his eyes as Murdock slipped quietly into the room. "Sorry,"
said Murdock. "Didn't mean to wake you."

 Face shifted to the center of the bed, making room for Murdock to sit on
the side. "Didn't," answered Face sleepily. "Heard the van start. Get the
kids away?"

 "Yeah, B.A.'s taking care of `em." He sat on the side of the bed, taking
Face's hand in his own. "How're you feeling?"

 "Sore," Face admitted. Though he didn't like having his wounds on
display, clothing was too uncomfortable, and he'd pulled it off when he
climbed into bed. "It'll hurt for awhile," said Murdock, gently rubbing
Face's hand between his own from wrist to fingertip, tracing the fingers
individually. Face sighed contentedly. He hadn't realized such a simple
gesture could be so comforting. 

 Murdock lifted Face's fingers to his lips, kissing them. "Do you know I
watch your hands all the time? When you eat, when you clean a weapon, when
you're driving. Even when you're biting your nails."

 "I don't bite my nails!"

 "Yes, you do. You have beautiful, expressive hands. Sometimes it's been
all I can do not to reach over and touch them. But I figured you'd
probably slug me."

 "There was a time I probably would've," Face answered. For awhile he lay
silent, reveling in Murdock's tender caress. "Do you think B.A. and
Hannibal have figured it out yet?"

 "You mean us?"

 Face nodded.

 Murdock smiled. "I think they figured it out before we did," he admitted,
"but they haven't said anything, and they probably won't."

 "What'd you find?" Face asked.

 "All the storage facilities are close to the airport, the harbor, and the
bus station. The lockers are leased long term under a variety of names.
Including Trevor Wilson."

 "The last golden boy. He's leasing them in the names of his former
lovers? That's sick!"

 "Victims," corrected Murdock gently, "not lovers. But yeah, that's what
he's doing."

 "You get into any of `em?"

 "Took some fast talking, but we did. A few each near the bus depot,
harbor, and airport." He stopped talking.

 "Well, what was in `em?" Face asked impatiently.

 "It's in code, but it looks like a name and address in each one."

 "Pretty clever," remarked Face. "It's his little black book spread out
all over the place. You might stumble across one of his contacts, but
never across them all unless you had that list I found."

 "Which makes me wonder why he kept the list. I still think that was too
obvious a place to put it."

 "You think it's a trap?" asked Face.

 "I think it'll be a trap if we remove anything from those lockers,
especially if we remove anything from more than one of them. He'll
remember we were in that office alone."

 "So this is all useless? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

 "Not entirely useless, no. We can follow up on some of these people. We
know who they are now."

 "Maybe we can plant the seeds of doubt, turn some of them against him.
They might be able to bring him down where we couldn't," said Face
hopefully.

 "Well," said Murdock hesitantly, "I'm not sure that's gonna happen. He's
got some insurance."

 "Insurance? What're you talking about?"

 "In each locker there are...photos."

 "Of what?"

 "Probably of the men whose addresses are in the lockers.
In...compromising positions...with the men whose names the lockers are
leased under."

 "Shit," said Face. "Shit. He's selling these guys to his contacts then
blackmailing the contacts."

 Murdock nodded.

 "You think that's what he has in mind for me?"

 " I don't know. Maybe. But he seems so possessive of you." Murdock
shrugged. "I don't know how to read him," he finished. "I thought I knew
crazy people pretty well, but he's too crazy even for me to figure out!"

 Face sighed. "I still have to go back," he said.

 "I know."

 "Why do you think he's never tried to seduce Keith or Dan? They're in a
position a lot like mine."

 "Because they're not you," said Hannibal, entering the room.

 "Huh?"

 "Dan is a middle-aged black man. Keith is middle aged, balding, and
skinny as a rail. A nice guy, but not terribly attractive to someone like
Wright."

 "How do you know that?" asked Face.

 "All the men in the pictures, all of Wright's victims, looked like you,
Face. Young, athletic, well-muscled, lean without being too thin."

 Murdock nodded. "Makes sense. They're not aware of it, but Dan and Keith
are his procurers. They're in charge of recruiting, but he makes the final
decision on who gets hired. They round up the prospects, and he chooses
his prey from the pool. It's no accident there's such a resemblance
between them and you. You're the type he wants."

 "And I think he's looking for the perfect specimen," added Hannibal.
"Someone who'll let him mold them to his exact specifications. Someone who
enjoys his cruelty."

 Face gestured to his abused chest. "This is damned hard to enjoy," he
said.

 "Right," said Hannibal. "Which is why none of the others have lasted.
They must've either objected or tried to leave him. He doesn't look like
the type who's used to rejection."

 "So he rents them out to his contacts, and they accept it because it gets
them out of his bed. Then he kills them and uses the pictures to blackmail
the contacts. Jesus, it's unbelievable," Face said.

 "I don't see how Keith and Dan could be so blind," said Murdock.

 "Maybe they're not," said Face. "But really, after all they've been
through, I'm sure it's easier for them to ignore their suspicions, if they
have any. And if they do, and they act on them, they'll be next on
Wright's list."

 "Are you sure they're worth working this hard to protect?" asked Hannibal
gently.

 "I have to believe that they are," said Face. "I'm not as good a judge of
character as you are, I know, but these are decent guys, and they've been
treated like shit for years. I don't want to be just one more person who
screws them over. They've offered me friendship, and there haven't been
that many people over the years who've done that. I...I don't know if you
can understand this, but I feel like I owe them my protection."

 "I do understand it, kid," Hannibal replied. "But how are you gonna
protect them if you can't even protect yourself?"

 "I'll think of something," said Face, looking away.

 "That's a lousy plan," said Hannibal.

 "You got a better one?"

 "No."

 "Then I guess we'll go with mine."

 Hannibal sighed but didn't reply. He exchanged a worried glance with
Murdock as Face rolled away from them. Murdock pulled the covers up around
Face's shoulders and stood up.

 "I'll be back a little later. Shall I bring you some dinner?"

 "No," Face whispered. "I'm gonna sleep."

 "Okay." He leaned over, kissing Face's temple softly. "I love you," he
murmured.

 Face nodded and closed his eyes. When the light snapped off and the door
closed, he opened his eyes and lay awake long after the others had left.

 Chapter 13

 The strains of a Bach Brandenburg Concerto filled the room as Dan flopped
over and hit the snooze alarm.

 "You do that every morning," murmured Keith, pulling his partner back
toward him without opening his eyes. "Why don't you just set the damned
thing for later and stop waking me up five different times every morning?"

 "Just do it to piss you off," said Dan, pulling Keith closer.

 "Heartless bastard," said Keith, settling his head in the crook between
Dan's neck and shoulder. "Don't know why I put up with you."

 "I don't either," admitted Dan. "Must be my charm and good looks."

 "And your money. I know you're loaded, pal, and one day I'm gonna get my
hands on all of it. Where you been hidin' it, anyway?"

 "Locker at the bus depot," answered Dan. "One day I'm cleaning it out and
heading for the Bahamas."

 "On the bus?" asked Keith. "Good luck!"

 Dan laughed softly.

 "You suppose Rich will be back in today?" Keith asked.

 "That's what he said when I talked to him yesterday," said Dan.

 "He sound okay?"

 "Yeah, he sounded good. He said he was anxious to get back to work and
that Paul was driving him crazy fussing over him."

 "Sounds like Paul," said Keith. "He can hardly stand to be away from that
kid. Typical newlyweds!"

 "I seem to remember someone following me around rather closely once upon
a time," returned Dan. "Wonder who that was?"

 "Wasn't me, I assure you," said Keith. "I don't like you that well."

 "Must've been your evil twin," said Dan. "The virile one."

 "Oh, him," said Keith nonchalantly. "He's a girl, y'know."

 Dan laughed heartily as Keith pulled away and sat up. Sitting with his
arms on bent knees, Keith looked down at Dan, seeming to want to say
something.

 "What's wrong?" asked Dan.

 "Dan, do you ever notice the way Mr. Wright looks at Rich?"

 Dan sighed. "Yes, I do."

 "You think something's going on between them?"

 "Like with Trevor?"

 "Yeah."

 Dan sat up as well and considered his response. "Trevor didn't have
anyone when he came here. There was no reason for him not to get it on
with Mr. Wright if they both wanted it."

 "But what about Rich?" Keith asked.

 "Rich and Paul are crazy about each other;anybody can see that. Rich
would never willingly betray him."

 "What about unwillingly?"

 "You mean, do I think Mr. Wright might drug them and fuck Rich while
we're in the next room with his lover throwing up all over us?"

 "Crudely put, but yeah," said Keith.

 "Yeah, it could happen," said Dan. "But I don't know that it did."

 "Something happened," said Keith. "Those two couldn't get out of here
soon enough, and Rich was obviously traumatized." His voice grew soft.
"I've been there. I know that look."

 Dan drew Keith into his arms. "I know you have, love."

 "Do you think we should try to do anything to...to..."

 "Protect him?" finished Dan. "No. If he were that freaked out, do you
think he'd be coming back to work? He could just quit."

 "Like Trevor."

 Dan hesitated. "Yeah, like Trevor."

 "Did Trevor quit?"

 "Trevor disappeared. Whether he formally terminated employment, I don't
know.

 "But you have your suspicions," guessed Keith.

 Dan nodded. "Yeah, I have my suspicions," he said. Laying back down, he
pulled Keith down on top of him and kissed him. "There's time to worry
about Rich later. But for now, I want to forget all that and make love to
you. As long as Mr. Wright invited us to use this big soft bed for one
more weekend, we might as well take advantage of it. C'mon, weenie boy,
light my fire."

 "Mmm," sighed Keith, "I love it when you talk dirty."

 Dan chuckled, running his hands over Keith's naked back. "I haven't even
gotten started yet," he said.

 Ted Wright gestured with one hand. "Yes sir?"

 "Get Thompson in here," he said.

 "Yes, sir."

 Wright watched the screen. A pity this would be the last time, he
thought, but he had Rich now. Rich was coming back to him. He didn't
really need anyone else anymore. He and Rich could pick up where they had
left off.

 Face adjusted his tie in the bathroom mirror one more time before turning
to Murdock. "How's it look?" he asked.

 "Like it was made for you!" joked Murdock, knowing that it had been. It
was another of his designs.

 "You'll come have lunch with me today?" Face asked.

 "I'll be there by one. One-thirty, tops."

 Face nodded and turned back to the mirror, putting the finishing touches
on his hair. Murdock slipped his arms around Face's waist and held him
close, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

 "You okay?" Murdock asked.

 Face had lost track of how many times he'd been asked that question in
the last several days. But he knew that this time it was more than just an
inquiry into his health. "I'm terrified," he admitted.

 Murdock sighed and held him tighter for a moment before releasing him.
They'd said everything that needed saying the night before in each other's
arms. Slipping on his jacket and picking up his briefcase, Face went
downstairs to the kitchen where B.A. was pouring himself a glass of milk.
"Hannibal still upstairs?" asked Face.

 "Yeah," said B.A. shortly, not turning around.

 Face set down the briefcase, noting the tension in B.A.'s back. "I'm
sorry, B.A.," he apologized. "I know you're angry that I'm going back."

 At that B.A. turned and met his eyes. "I ain't angry, man," he said
softly. "Just worried about you." He reached into his pocket, took
something out, and held it out to Face. It was a package of condoms.
"Whatever you have to do, if it comes to it, you use these," he whispered
forcefully.

 Face accepted the package and put it in his own pocket. "I'm hoping it
won't come to that," he said softly.

 B.A. took a step closer and laid a hand on Face's shoulder. "You a fast
talker, Face, but sometimes things happen you just can't talk your way out
of. Don't want that bastard givin' you nothin'. Ain't just V.D. no more,
man. You could die."

 Face nodded. He knew B.A.'s words were true. "Thanks, B.A.," he said
quietly. "No matter what, I'll find a way to protect myself."

 B.A.'s grip tightened. "You promise me you will!" he demanded. There were
tears in his eyes.

 "I promise," Face answered.

 "Okay, then," B.A. said, releasing him. "I'm goin' to pull the van
around."

 As B.A. left the room, Hannibal walked in. He slipped a package into
Face's jacket pocket as he passed him on his way to the coffee pot. Face
knew what it was. "You too?" he asked.

 Hannibal nodded as he reached for a cup. "Same speech, same promise," he
said.

 Face nodded. "Same promise," he said.

 "Murdock coming down?" Hannibal asked.

 "I'm here," announced Murdock. He held out a package to Face. Face rolled
his eyes but accepted it. "Christ almighty!" he exclaimed. "Did you guys
leave anything at the store?"

 "This is serious, Face," said Murdock.

 "You must know I don't intend to need these."

 "I know you don't intend to. And I know I don't want you to. But as much
as I want to deny the possibility, I have to be realistic. If he gets you
in a position where you can't say no, I want to at least know he's not
passing anything along to you. As many partners as he's had, you never
know."

 "People could say that about me, too," Face joked, trying to lighten the
atmosphere.

 "Only someone who doesn't know how careful you are," said Murdock. Face
had told him before that he had no intention of fathering a child he
couldn't be around to raise with a woman he didn't want to be married to.
He was scrupulously careful in that department. Face nodded, pocketing the
third package, serious now. "Okay," he said simply. "Let's go."

 Hannibal held out his hand. "Good luck, lieutenant," he said simply.

 Face accepted his hand solemnly, picked up his briefcase, and left with
Murdock. Watching him leave, Hannibal couldn't help but feel he'd just
sent Face on a suicide mission.

 Murdock strolled into the lobby of Wright & Sons whistling casually. He
nodded to the receptionist, who was used to seeing him come around, and
walked into the office Face shared with Dan and Keith. He saw Face sitting
at his desk with Ted Wright standing next to him, pointing to something on
a piece of paper; Dan and Keith were not in evidence. Face looked up, saw
Murdock, and smiled widely. Standing, he hurried across the room, arms
open. "Paul!' he exclaimed. "God, is it lunchtime already?"

 Pulling him into a quick hug, Murdock glanced up to see Wright looking
daggers at him. "Bit early, yet," said Murdock, "but I wanted to show Mr.
Wright my designs for him."

 "Ah, good!" said Wright heartily. "I've been looking forward to seeing
you again! I trust you recovered from the food poisoning?"

 "Fully," said Murdock. "Why don't you take a look at these while I take
Rich to lunch. When we come back, you can let me know if there are any
changes you'd like me to make."

 "Would you two like to join me for lunch?" asked Wright.

 "No, thanks," said Face. He wasn't letting another morsel of food or
drink pass his lips when he was here.

 Murdock slipped an arm around Face's waist. "I've got reservations at
Chez Henri," said Murdock. "A little table for two in the back. Private.
Romantic."

 Face smiled, looking at Wright. "It's where he proposed to me," he said.
"Our favorite place."

 "Well, take your time," said Wright magnanimously. He could afford to
wait.

 "Thanks, sir," said Face, pulling on his jacket. As he and Murdock left,
he stopped by the receptionist's desk, waiting for her to finish with a
phone call before he spoke to her. "Sandra, has there been any word from
Keith or Dan yet?" he asked.

 "No, sir," Sandra replied. "Nobody's heard a thing."

 "Will you page me if you hear from them?"

 "Sure thing, sir," she smiled, turning back to answer the phone again.

 "Trouble?" asked Murdock as they left the building and walked down the
street.

 "I don't know," replied Face. "They didn't make it in today."

 Murdock nodded. That was worrisome. "How's Wright been?"

 Face sighed, opening the door to Chez Henri's and letting Murdock go in
first. "Surprisingly polite," said Face. "Keeps the conversation to
business, hasn't touched me once. It's almost more scary than if he were
actually groping me."

 Murdock nodded as he followed Face and the waiter to a small table in the
back. He'd never eaten here before, but he knew Face's fondness for fine
cuisine. He'd actually been here once to liberate the escargot but had
been disappointed to find them already minced and in their shells.
Laughing, Face had consoled him, saying, "It's not like they keep them
slithering around like they do lobsters, Murdock. And anyway, it's quick
and painless; they never knew what hit `em."

 Halfway through lunch, Face's pager went off, and he left the table to
return the phone call. When he returned, his face was white. He looked
lost. Murdock stood quickly and led him to his seat. "What's wrong?" he
asked.

 Face struggled to control his reaction. "They're dead," he whispered.
"They...found their car over a cliff in Laurel Canyon."

 Murdock sighed and closed his eyes.

 "He had them killed. I know he did!" whispered Face vehemently. "That
sonofabitch murdered them!"

 Murdock nodded. "Probably," he said. "But why?"

 Face shook his head. "I don't know. I told him they were loyal, that he
didn't ever have to doubt them." Had his tone or his gestures given
something away? Had he somehow caused Wright to suspect they were the ones
who were stealing his secrets? Was he responsible for their deaths? Shit,
shit, shit! This whole fucking plan was going right straight to hell in a
handbasket!

 Murdock reached across the table to take his hand. "It's not your fault,"
he said.

 Face didn't answer. He stood, his face a grim mask, and put some money on
the table. "I have to get back," he said.

 They walked back to the building in silence. Just before they entered,
Murdock took Face's elbow and leaned close to him. "Face, don't do
anything stupid. Please, be careful."

 Face nodded, but when he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. "I
failed them, Murdock. I failed them."

 "Don't lose sight of the objective, Face. Take him down, but do it
without getting yourself killed. There's nothing you can do for them now,
but you don't have to follow them." As Face turned and walked into the
building, Murdock wasn't sure Face had heard anything he'd said.

 He accompanied Face past the sobbing receptionist and back to his office.
There he found Wright standing by Face's desk, holding Murdock's sketches
out to him. There were actual tears in his eyes, but Murdock wasn't fooled
for a moment as he took the sketches back.

 "I'm sorry," said Wright, his voice choking with emotion. "Right now, I
just can't even think about these. Perhaps another time."

 Face crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the ground as Wright
pulled him into a hug. "There, there, boy," he said consolingly. "It's a
terrible thing, a terrible tragedy. Don't try to hold it back." He pulled
Face closer and pushed his hips against Face's thigh, letting him feel his
arousal.

 Face pulled back, his hands over his mouth. "Paul," he gasped, "I'm...I'm
gonna be sick."

 Without a word, Murdock dropped his sketches and hustled him to the
bathroom. When Face was finished losing his lunch, Murdock sat him down on
a bench in the men's room and bathed his face with a wet paper towel. Not
knowing whether they were being observed, Face said nothing to Murdock,
but Murdock had good eyesight, and the evidence had been plain to see.

 They emerged from the bathroom to find Wright sitting on Face's desk
waiting for them. "You okay now, Rich?" he asked.

 "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

 "Nothing to be sorry about; can't help your body's reaction to extreme
emotion, can you?" he asked.

 Face shook his head.

 "I'd like to let you go home and do your grieving in private, Rich, but I
really need you here more than ever," said Wright.

 "I understand, sir," said Face, returning to his desk.

 "Good man," said Wright. He looked up at Murdock. "I'll bring him home
tonight," he said. Murdock was obviously being dismissed. ' "No, that's
okay. I have an appointment in this part of town late this afternoon
anyway. I'll come by and pick him up," said Murdock.

 "Very well," said Wright, obviously not happy but unable to do anything
about it.

 Three days later Face stood pale but dry-eyed under leaden skies at the
graveside service for Keith and Dan. Fittingly, the weather had turned
cold and rainy overnight. Wright stood on one side of Face, tears rolling
down his cheeks. Murdock stood on the other, arm tightly linked through
his, lending him what strength he could. The elderly parents of both men
spoke to each other for the first time in the twelve years their sons had
been together. Knowing he was being unfair, Face hated them for their
rejection of their sons. All his life he'd longed for a love like theirs,
not knowing until recently that that's what he was looking for. By
refusing to acknowledge their love, they'd driven Keith and Dan right into
Wright's arms and ultimately to their deaths. In a way, this was their
fault. But no, he reflected, it wasn't really. It was his fault. Somehow
he'd said or done something to arouse Wright's suspicions, and Keith and
Dan had paid for it with their lives.

 Wright's hand stole up to rub Face's back. As Face tensed beside him,
Murdock stepped a bit to one side, pulling Face into his embrace and out
of Wright's reach as the caskets were lowered into the graves. Face heaved
a tremendous sigh and leaned into Murdock's embrace, feeling his arms
tighten around him. Christ, could things get any worse?

 Chapter 14

 "It's been a week since Dan and Keith were buried," said Wright to the
assembled staff. "One of the longest, hardest weeks of my life."

 There were nods and spoken words of agreement around the table.

 "I've put off making the decision because it's just so painful, so hard
to replace people as valuable as those two were. But I've finally had to
fill their positions." He stepped behind the chair Face was sitting in,
putting his hands on Face's shoulders, squeezing almost hard enough to
hurt. It was the most intimate contact he'd initiated since the funeral
service. "I've decided to combine both their positions into one, and I've
found the right man for the job. Rich Todd."

 Pleased but unsurprised, the staff applauded and congratulated him. Face
did his best to look pleased and embarrassed at the acclaim, smiling shyly
at his colleagues.

 "It's going to be a lot of work, a lot of late hours, I'm afraid, and I
expect you to give him all the support, encouragement, and respect you
gave Dan and Keith and that you've always given me. I think you'll agree
that he's worthy of it."

 More applause greeted this speech. Dan and Keith must be rolling in their
graves, Face thought bitterly. They're dead because of me, and now I've
got their jobs. Way to climb the corporate ladder!

 Dismissing the rest of the staff, Wright kept Face behind. He handed Face
an envelope.

 "What's this, sir?" asked Face.

 "Think of it as a bonus to go with your promotion," said Wright kindly.
"I know your lunch at Chez Henri's was interrupted by the sad news. I've
made reservations for you and Paul there tomorrow night. It's on me."

 "I...I don't know what to say, sir," Face responded, looking for a trap.
How could he poison them in a public restaurant?

 "Just say you'll go. I've made reservations for the late seating. Not too
many people there that time of night; you'll practically have the place to
yourselves. Please, just go and have a good time. God knows, after all
you've been through, you deserve it."

 "Thanks, sir. I'll talk to Paul about it tonight."

 That night Face made love to Murdock over and over, taking the initiative
with an intensity and single-mindedness of purpose that left them both
sweat-soaked and trembling. Finally out of energy, Face lay atop Murdock,
holding him tightly.

 "Face, what's wrong?" asked Murdock.

 "Nothing's wrong," Face answered. "Please, just shut up and hold me."

 Murdock sighed. "If I hold you any tighter we'll be stuck together
forever."

 "Would that be so bad?" Face whispered.

 Murdock ran fingers tenderly through Face's damp hair. "Not until I have
to pee," he joked.

 Face shoulders shook with laughter, but within seconds his laughter
became wracking sobs. Frightened, Murdock sat up, pulling Face up against
him. In fifteen years, he'd never seen Face cry. He'd screamed in pain;
he'd hidden away inside himself, silent and empty; he'd cursed and thrown
things. Tears had gathered in his eyes, but he'd never let them fall.

 "Face, what's wrong?" Murdock asked again.

 Face was unable to explain his reaction even to himself. It was some time
before he could even talk at all. Murdock held him close and rocked him
comfortingly until he calmed. The strain of the last several weeks finally
must have caught up with him. Wiping his eyes, he pulled out of Murdock's
embrace.

 "I'm sorry," he said, sniffing. "I don't know what's wrong with me.
Hormones."

 "Talk to me, Face," said Murdock.

 Face shook his head. "I really don't know, Murdock. I didn't mean to do
that. It just hit me." He was silent a few minutes, sniffling quietly.
"Have you ever had the feeling that somehow everything's gotten away from
you? That's it's spiraling out of control and you can't do a damn thing to
stop it?"

 "Face, it's me!" Murdock answered softly. "Spiraling out of control is
what I do best!"

 "How do you live with that feeling?" Face asked.

 "Why do you think I'm locked up in a mental hospital?" said Murdock by
way of an answer.

 "Am I making things worse for you?" "Baby, you've been driving me crazy
for years," said Murdock. He settled Face back on the pillows and ran his
hand possessively over Face's body. "And this is all the therapy I need,
right here. Your body next to mine. Waking up in the morning with your
head on my chest. I'm not missing the V.A. at all." 

 Face stared up at the ceiling. "When I came up with this plan, I thought
I could see where it was going every step of the way. Now...I can't see it
at all. It's like...it's like a dark passage, and I'm just stumbling
through trying to find the end. I don't even know if there is an end. Or
what's gonna be there."

 Murdock leaned forward to kiss him. "I'm gonna be there. Remember that."

 "What if something happens to you?" Face asked, finally voicing his
concern.

 "Even then I'll be there. No matter what."

 Face sighed. "Will you at least be careful until this is all over? Stick
close to Hannibal and B.A.?"

 Murdock could see this wouldn't be a good time to argue with him. "Like
glue," he promised. "But not until after dinner tomorrow. I'm gonna order
the most expensive thing on the menu, the best wine, the biggest steak.
I'm gonna bleed that sucker dry!"

 Face twined his arms and legs around Murdock and settled down to sleep.

 "Murdock?"

 "Hm?"

 "The most expensive thing on the menu is escargot."

 "Oh, damn," Murdock said in a small voice. "I'm gonna have to eat my
little friends?"

 Closing his eyes, inhaling Murdock's cologne, Face could almost shake his
feeling of impending disaster. But not quite. In his heart of hearts, he
knew that after tonight, he and Murdock would never make love again.

 Almost too keyed up to eat, Face continued to look around Chez Henri's
suspiciously. They sat side by side, facing the door, knowing Hannibal and
B.A. were sitting across the street in the van watching the front
entrance.

 True to his word, Murdock had ordered the most expensive thing on the
menu, short of escargot, and was trying to enjoy his meal while Face
picked at his. "Will you eat, please?" Murdock finally hissed in
exasperation. "And at least pretend to be having a good time. You've
hardly said two words since we got here."

 Face turned his eyes from the door to Murdock.

 "People are going to think we're having a lovers' spat," said Murdock.

 "Maybe if we did that'd keep you safe," said Face.

 "We've been down this road before," said Murdock. "We'll be fine. Eat
before I hold you down and feed you."

 Face sighed and applied himself to his meal, which was surprisingly good
and didn't seem to have been poisoned at all. Walking back to the car arm
in arm with Murdock, Face began to relax. They walked near the edge of a
small crowd of people who were leaving the restaurants and theaters in the
area. Face was reflecting that there was safety in numbers when a car
swung around the corner, tires squealing. Before his mind could even
register the sound of gunfire, the woman in front of Face spun away from
her husband and dropped like a stone. Murdock fell against Face, knocking
him to the ground. Around them people dove for cover, screaming in fear as
windows shattered in the hail of gunfire.

 As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Shakily, Face sat up, rolling
Murdock over and looking down at him. Blood poured from a wound in
Murdock's neck and another in his head. Face opened his mouth to call his
name, but no sound came out. Behind him he could hear the cries of the man
whose wife had fallen; he could hear the death rattle in her throat as the
man screamed her name over and over.

 Frantically, Face pinched shut the wound on Murdock's neck, trying to
stop the bleeding, but his hands shook and his fingers kept slipping.
Suddenly, mercifully, B.A. and Hannibal were by his side, pushing him
back. As B.A. put his fingers over the neck wound, Hannibal gave Face a
quick glance to be sure he wasn't seriously injured then turned his
attention to Murdock. Of all the people who had fallen, only Murdock and
the woman seemed badly injured. The wail of sirens heralded the arrival of
police and paramedics. As they moved to make room for the paramedics,
Hannibal lifted Face to his feet and supported him with an arm around his
waist as he swayed. Face stared at him mutely, unable to ask the question.

 "It's bad," said Hannibal. "But he's alive."

 Behind them a team of paramedics worked on the injured woman while
another firefighter held her sobbing husband. The look they exchanged
spoke volumes as they bent to what they both knew was a hopeless task.

 Face tried to focus on what the paramedics were doing to Murdock. Their
lips moved, their hands moved, they made noises, but he couldn't hear them
over the roaring in his ears. His vision began to dim. Moments later he
found himself lying on the ground looking up into the kind eyes of a
firefighter. He tried to pull away, tried to see where Murdock was, but a
second firefighter held him down, moving to block his view. "Take it easy,
sir," he said. "Let us take a quick look at you, make sure you're not
hurt."

 Hands moved over his body. He gasped a little as probing fingers moved
through his hair. "Right there?" questioned the firefighter, fingering the
sore spot. "You've got a little bump back here. Must've hit it when you
fell." The fingers moved about some more. "Looks like a few superficial
cuts on the side of your head here from flying glass, too. Nothing too
serious."

 Lights shone in his eyes, fingers found his wrist. Calming some, he tried
to slow his heart rate and his breathing, wanting to get away from them
and to Murdock's side. He twisted his head, trying to see what was
happening, but again the firefighter blocked his view.

 "They're taking good care of him," the first firefighter said soothingly.
"They're just about to get him loaded on the ambulance. I know he looks a
mess, but his vital signs are stable. Your other friends are with him now.
I just want you to relax now, let us see to you."

 Having seen to other minor wounds, a third team of paramedics crouched by
Face's side. "How's he doing?" asked one.

 "Could be a slight concussion. There's a little bump on his head back
here."

 Then there were more lights in his eyes, more fingers moving through his
hair, more vital signs taken and recorded. Finally B.A. stepped into his
line of sight. One of the firefighters moved aside to let him kneel at
Face's side.

 "Mr. Huntington's goin' to the hospital with Paul," said B.A., hoping
Face would catch on. "I'm to stay with you, Mr. Todd."

 The paramedic restrained Face when he tried to lift his head. "How is
he?" Face gasped out.

 "Seems to be doin' okay, so far," B.A. answered honestly. "Seems he was
lucky, as usual." He turned his attention to the paramedic. "How's Mr.
Todd?"

 "I'd like to take him in," the paramedic answered. "He may have a slight
concussion, and he's had a terrible shock." He glanced over B.A.'s
shoulder at his colleagues, who were performing CPR on what he could
clearly see was a dead body. "I'd like the docs to check him over. If they
say he's okay, then they'll probably let you take him home."

 B.A. nodded and returned his attention to Face. "There's nothin' you can
do for Paul right now, Mr. Todd," he said matter of factly. "Let `em take
care of you now, and me and Mr. Huntington'll let you know how Paul's
doin' as soon as we can. Ain't nothin' you can do to change it right now,
anyway."

 This bit of practical wisdom had its desired effect, and Face reluctantly
surrendered himself to the care of the paramedics.

 At the hospital, Face was treated and released to B.A.'s care. He dressed
hurriedly, frantic to join Hannibal in the surgery waiting room. He cursed
angrily as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. B.A. moved
to assist him, batting his hands away from the buttons.

 "Docs are gonna take real good care of the fool," said B.A. soothingly.
"Don't you worry. He made it this far, he gonna make it the rest of the
way."

 Face rubbed his aching head, not wanting to hear any more reassurances.
He needed to see Murdock for himself, watch his chest rise and fall as he
breathed, touch him to be sure he was still warm and alive. Until he could
do that, he would believe nothing.

 As they left the treatment room, two grim-faced paramedics and a doctor
stepped out of another one, crossing the waiting room to the husband. "I'm
sorry," Face heard the doctor say as he and B.A. turned the corner. The
man's cry cut through him like a knife, and Face stopped, clutching at the
wall for support.

 B.A. put an arm around him. "C'mon, man," he whispered. "Ain't nothin'
you can do for him. Ain't your fault."

 Hannibal turned from the window as B.A. assisted Face into the surgery
waiting room and deposited him on a red plastic sofa. "Any word?" asked
B.A.

 "Not yet," said Hannibal. "The woman?"

 B.A. shook his head.

 "How's he?" asked Hannibal, inclining his head toward Face, who so far
had not moved or spoken.

 "Takin' it hard," said B.A. "But the docs released him. No concussion,
just a bad bump and a few cuts."

 As they waited, Face silently drank the cup of soda Hannibal brought him,
tore the cup into small pieces, paced around the room, and tore the pieces
into pieces. Eventually he fell into an exhausted doze.

 Finally, the surgeon stepped into the room. "Mr. Huntington?" he asked.

 "That's me," said Hannibal, standing. Beside him, Face lurched to his
feet, and Hannibal reached for an elbow to support him. Concerned, the
surgeon looked at Face.

 "This is my son's partner, Rich Todd," explained Hannibal.

 "Sit down, son," said the doctor gently.

 Face knew what was coming before the doctor even opened his mouth again.
"I'm sorry," began the surgeon.

 "No!" Face yelled. Hannibal and B.A. dragged him back as he tried to
launch himself at the shaken doctor. "They said his vitals were normal!
They said he'd be okay!" 

 "I'm so sorry," said the doctor. "Things seemed to be going well, but he
took a turn for the worse in surgery. We did everything we could, but it
just wasn't enough."

 "No, no," Face moaned over and over, unable even to breathe as he fell to
his knees.

 Hannibal sat on the couch, pulling Face up next to him. Face trembled
violently, moaning, but he did not cry and he would not let either of the
others touch him, pulling away whenever they tried. He sat with his hands
clenched between his knees, staring ahead as the surgeon finished offering
his condolences and left.

 B.A. let his tears fall, unashamed. Hannibal stood and walked to the
window, trying to collect his thoughts, accepting as his due the crushing
guilt of having lost yet another man. Maybe two, he thought, examining
Face's reflection in the dark window. He turned and walked back to where
Face was sitting, crouching in front of him. He wondered whether Face
would want to see Murdock's body or whether it would be best to get him
out of here and home right now.

 "What do you want to do, Face?" he asked. "Do you want to see him?"

 For long moments there was no answer. Finally, Face met his eyes. "I need
some time alone. Please. Just leave me alone. Just for awhile."

 Hannibal nodded. "Alright. We'll give you some time. You'll stay here?"

 "I just need some time alone," Face repeated.

 Motioning for B.A. to follow him, Hannibal left. They walked down a long
corridor and around the corner to another waiting room where B.A. slammed
his fist into the padded wall. "Damn stupid fool," B.A. sobbed. "Why'd he
have to go get himself killed?" 

 When they returned to the waiting room fifteen minutes later, it was
empty. A note lay on the coffee table, and Hannibal picked it up and read
it. "Shit!" he swore violently.

 "What is it? Where is he?"

 Hannibal handed the note to B.A. It read, "I'm going back in. Don't try
to stop me, and don't try to contact me. Get rid of the apartment and
everything in it. When it's over, you'll know. Take care of Murdock for
me. Make sure everything's done right, the way he would have wanted."

 "We have to stop him!" B.A. exclaimed.

 "Too late," said Hannibal. "We'll only make things worse if we try to go
in there. And we're two men short."

 "I ain't forgotten," said B.A. sadly. "What're we gonna do?'

 Hannibal sat on the couch, head spinning. "I need to think," he said.

 Face stepped through the doors of the emergency entrance to find Wright's
limousine parked in the small emergency lot. Talking to Wright was the
surgeon who'd informed them of Murdock's death. Face melted into the
shadows and watched them talk, though they were too far away for him to
hear. Obviously the surgeon was in Wright's pay. He'd killed Murdock
during the operation, finishing what their assassin had started. Well,
he'd deal with the surgeon later.

 As he stood hidden in the shadows, the grief-stricken husband from the
shooting was led out by his relatives. He was calm now, sedated, but his
eyes roamed the parking lot as if looking for someone, and he kept turning
to look back over his shoulder at the doors of the emergency room. I'm
gonna take care of it for you, Face promised the man silently. I'm gonna
take care of it.

 The surgeon slipped away from Wright and returned to the hospital, not
seeing Face in the shadows. Face memorized his features for later. As
Wright walked toward the building, Face chose his moment and ran out,
barreling right into him. Wright caught him, looking closely at his face.

 "He's dead!" Face cried. "He's dead!" He buried his face in Wright's
shoulder and summoned up tears. It wasn't very hard.

 Wright's arms closed around him, holding him close. "Oh, my God. I'm so
sorry. I came as soon as I heard."

 Face continued to sob on his shoulder. "Please get me out of here," he
moaned. "Please."

 "Of course," Wright murmured soothingly, leading Face to his car. Once in
the car and on the way, Face's sobs subsided as he allowed Wright to pull
him into his embrace.

 "He was all I had," Face whispered. "I'm alone now. I'm alone."

 "No, you're not alone. Not anymore," said Wright. "I've got you."

 No, thought Face to himself. No, Mr. Wright, I've got you.

 Chapter 15

 Hannibal sat with his head in his hands, almost too numb with grief to
even think. In the space of half an hour he'd lost them both. He could
only imagine what kind of damned fool thing Face was trying to accomplish
by going back into the lion's den. Someone walked into the room, and
Hannibal looked up, expecting it to be the nurse who'd come to tell them
where to collect Murdock's personal effects. A young man in surgical
scrubs blinked at them tiredly.

 "Mr. Huntington?"

 "Yes," Hannibal answered, automatically responding to his assumed name.

 "Your son has just come out of surgery. It was touch and go there for
awhile, but it looks as though he's going to be alright."

 "What?" asked Hannibal stupidly.

 The surgeon crossed the room to sit next to him. He was used to family
members being in too much shock to process his words. Both men stared at
him as if seeing a ghost. He was damned glad to be bringing them good news
this time. It had been close. "Your son, Paul," he began again. "We've
just finished surgery and are taking him to recovery for awhile before we
move him to ICU."

 "He ain't dead?" demanded the other man, glowering.

 The surgeon raised his eyebrows, surprised. Really, they didn't seem
nearly as pleased by the news he thought they'd be. "No, he's not. He's
very much alive, and barring any unforeseen complications, he's likely to
remain that way. One bullet tore a large chunk out of his neck, just
nicking the jugular. He was very lucky. The other bullet gouged his skull.
He's got a fractured skull, and of course it's sometimes hard to tell
what's going to happen with those, but his chances for a full recovery are
pretty good."

 "Christ," Hannibal swore softly, rising to his feet. "What a mess!"

 "Look, Mr. Huntington, you've had a really hard evening," offered the
surgeon sympathetically. "If you like, I can get you a sedative. Paul's
likely to be unconscious quite awhile anyway. Maybe you two should get
some rest."

 Smiling, Hannibal turned back to the surgeon. "No, we're fine. But
thanks. Thanks for saving him." He extended his hand.

 "You're welcome," said the doctor, standing to shake Hannibal's hand.
"I'm glad to have been able to bring you good news. I'll send a nurse in
to let you know when Paul is moved to ICU, and you can go in and sit with
him for awhile."

 Hannibal nodded as the doctor left. He turned back to B.A.

 "Don't know whether to laugh or to cry," said B.A. "Got one of `em back,
only to lose the other one. They sent that fake doctor in here `cause they
knew what it'd do to Face. That mean Wright got a plan for him."

 "Yeah," agreed Hannibal, "but this note means Face has a plan for him as
well. I don't like it one damned bit, but we're gonna have to sit back and
let Face play out his hand, one way or the other."

 "He could get killed," B.A. reminded him.

 "I know," said Hannibal unhappily. "I know."

 Wright motioned to his driver to lower his window as they stopped at the
front gate of his compound. The guard stepped out of the guard box and
approached the car. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

 "We're in seclusion until further notice," said Wright. "Absolutely
nobody comes in without my personal authorization. Give out no information
to anyone about Richard Todd. Nobody is to know he's here."

 "Yes, sir," replied the guard, stepping back and punching the button to
open the gate.

 Face lay against Wright, feigning sleep, listening to the conversation.
Good. He could do what he had to do with no interference from Hannibal.
Wright roused Face when they got to the house, personally assisting him up
the stairs, heading for the room Face had shared with Murdock. Face's
chest constricted with a pain he had no need to dissemble. "Please," he
choked. "Not that one."

 "The next one?"

 That was the room where Dan and Keith had spent their last night. Face
didn't want to sleep there, either. He shook his head.

 "Would you like to sleep in my room?" Wright asked gently.

 Eyes filling with tears, Face looked up at him. "Yes, please," he said.
"That would be really nice."

 Surprisingly, the first several nights, Wright slept in another room.
Face ate little during those days, and sat listlessly on the front steps
most of each day watching the perimeter guards go about their rounds,
every day pushing his grief back into the deep, dark hole he'd carved out
of his soul for it. He couldn't afford to be distracted by it. 

 One night Face heard the bedroom door open and turned his head, opening
his eyes. Ted Wright stood by the bed, already naked, staring down at him
hungrily. And so it begins, thought Face. Forgive me, Murdock. Forgive me.
He smiled up at Wright sweetly and reached under his pillow for the first
of many packages of condoms he was destined to go through in the next
several months.

 Hannibal sat by Murdock's bed watching him sleep. Mindful of the I.V., he
lay a hand on Murdock's forearm, squeezing it gently in reassurance as
Murdock tossed fitfully. In the days that followed the shooting, B.A. and
Hannibal had had many opportunities to be grateful for the thoroughness
with which Face had built a paper trail to support their assumed
identities. Though careful to avoid reporters and television cameras, they
cooperated fully with the investigation, and the impersonal sympathy of
the police assured them that their secret remained safe. Hannibal was
especially grateful for that because it meant he could leave Murdock in
the hospital to get the care he needed. The hardest thing they had to do
was explain Rich Todd's sudden disappearance and abandonment of his lover.
The police told them he'd disappeared from work as well, simply never
showing up. Hannibal declared his puzzlement and disappointment over and
over but allowed as how Rich Todd had sometimes seemed to have difficulty
dealing with his emotions. Since he was not a suspect in the shootings,
the police eventually let the matter drop.

 Though they sheltered him from the knowledge of Face's whereabouts for
several days, they eventually had to tell Murdock the whole truth. As
they'd expected, he took it hard, sinking into a depression that had them
fearing they'd have to return him to the V.A. hospital. Falling back once
again on Face's careful preparation, Hannibal brought in records of Paul
Huntington's previous hospitalizations for psychiatric care, and the
hospital assigned Murdock a psychiatrist. Then Murdock contracted an
infection which set his physical recovery back, and it was some time
before they were able to take him home.

 Once home Murdock filled sketchpads with design after design, all of them
in dark, somber colors, all of them the tasteful, elegant cut Face
preferred. Every afternoon he sat staring out the window at the front walk
as if waiting for Face to return from the day's work, and his eyes clouded
with disappointment every night when Face failed to return. He ate little,
spoke little, and slept poorly. His grief and fear ate at Hannibal, making
him irritable and short-tempered. Unable to deal any longer with
inactivity, B.A. and Hannibal began following up on the leads they'd
gotten previously, gathering what evidence they could from Wright's
associates. It was mainly important in that it kept them busy, gave them
something to do besides sit and worry. What they managed to find would be
good corroborating evidence, but they knew that the evidence they really
needed was still hidden either at Wright's office or at his residence, and
as weeks stretched into a month and then two months, their fears grew.
They stayed at the house, not willing to leave just in case Face did
return.

 Chapter 16

 Wright was satisfied with Rich Todd. He had proven to be the lover Wright
had sought for years, and Wright congratulated himself over and over on
his victory. Rich reveled in Wright's touch, letting Wright teach him what
love really was, what sexual gratification was really all about. Wright
allowed him his little obsession with condom use because Rich had proven
to be so creative with them, and really, he could afford to be indulgent.
As he'd hoped, Rich had forgotten Paul Huntington and given himself to
Wright body and soul. He was an apt pupil, learning quickly how to please
Wright, not at all bothered by Wright's exotic sexual appetites. He never
mentioned his former lover, seeming to mark the beginning of his life from
the day he'd taken refuge under Wright's roof. And that was just fine with
Ted Wright.

 Moaning on cue as Ted Wright thrust into him brutally, Face welcomed the
familiar pain. It was his penance, and he accepted it philosophically.

 "Show me how much you love this, baby," he heard Wright whisper in his
ear. 

 Failing to reach climax was not allowed; it was one of the rules of the
game. With the ease of long practice, he shrugged inwardly and turned his
attention to summoning up the appropriate physical response. It didn't
matter. It meant nothing. Nothing meant anything, anymore. Inside, where
it counted, he was empty. He was a whore. Whores weren't expected to feel
anything. And he didn't.

 As the months had passed, Face had begun to die, his soul eaten out by
grief and guilt. He taught Rich Todd everything he needed to know, passed
on the necessary skills and knowledge, then began to fade from existence.
One morning Rich woke up, sliding out from under Ted Wright's heavy arm,
and realized he was alone in his body. Face was dead. And Rich Todd
wouldn't be far behind.

 As Rich carefully erased all traces of his entry into Ted Wright's
personal files, he laughed to himself at how easy it had all been.
Assuming the threat of exposure had died with Dan and Keith, totally taken
in by Rich's act, Wright trusted him. He slowly learned where Wright had
secreted important information, gaining access to computer files as Wright
allowed him to handle more and more of the business. He was never allowed
to leave the compound; business that had to be conducted in person was
conducted by Wright himself. But it didn't matter; everything Rich had
needed was here, and soon he'd have gathered all the evidence Face had
told him to get. He could finish the job and follow Face into oblivion.
That would leave only the whore, the creature that was and always had been
at the center of Templeton Peck's being despite his attempts to disguise
it with fancy clothes and smooth talk. Of the three of them, only the
whore had the strength to do what needed to be done now.

 B.A. sighed as Murdock got out of the van and entered the house. Murdock
was slowly improving, eating and talking again, and sometimes, though
rarely, speaking of the future. Knowing the inactivity was as hard on
Murdock as it was on them, Hannibal had allowed him to assist them in
their cautious investigations of Wright's business partners. Secretly,
B.A. thought Face was probably dead. If so, he hoped it had been quick. In
their investigation they'd come across police photos of the dismembered
corpses of one of Wright's former lovers, and he dreaded the day they'd
come across pictures of Face's corpse, his glazed eyes staring back at
them across the boundary between life and death.

 Hannibal wouldn't give up hope that Face would return, though it was more
for Murdock's sake than his own. Despite his improvement, Murdock still
wandered the house restlessly every evening, looking out the window at the
front walk, imagining the sound of keys jingling and Face cursing softly
as he dropped them in the dark.

 "It's been six months, Paul," the therapist had said, "and you've had no
word from Rich. Perhaps it's time to cut your losses and move on."

 "He'll be back," Murdock had insisted.

 "Why hasn't he contacted you, at least sent you a letter to explain why
he left?" the therapist asked. "If he loves you as you say he does, don't
you think he'd do at least that?"

 "There's no if," said Murdock stubbornly. "I love him, and he loves me.
He'll come back!" He knew that if he just kept saying it over and over to
himself, he could make it true.

 "Where do you think he is, Paul?"

 Murdock stared out the window and was silent for a long time. "Lost," he
finally whispered. "In a dark passage. Looking for the end. But he'll find
it; I know he'll find it."

 Sighing, the therapist made notes on her yellow legal pad. This guy was
not ready to deal with reality yet.

 Ah, he'd judged the timing perfectly. Bracing himself, the whore lifted
his hips to meet Wright's thrust one more time, then Wright was throwing
back his head and screaming in ecstasy as he emptied himself into the
whore's body. So intent was he on the sensation, Wright hardly felt the
sharp, thin blade as it slid between his ribs and angled up into his
heart. With a gasp, he looked in disbelief at the ivory-handled knife
sticking out of his chest then back into the eyes of the man underneath
him.

 "Rich..." he gasped.

 Almost gently, the man rolled them over and lifted himself off of Wright,
shaking his head. "Rich is dead," he announced softly.

 "Wha...what?" Wright's hands scrabbled about feebly, looking for a weapon
or some way to summon help, but the other man made sure everything was out
of his reach and sat cross-legged on the bed next to him.

 "Rich is dead. He asked me to say goodbye to you. He finished his part,
and he passed on a few hours ago. I guess you didn't know about that.
Shall I fill you in?" Calmly, in an emotionless monotone, he explained how
Face and Rich Todd had duped Wright, how they had been gathering evidence
of his crimes, and how that evidence would soon be delivered to Face's old
friends. "Of course, in your case, it won't matter much because you'll
already be dead. That wasn't part of the original plan, of course, and I
suppose we could've just killed you from the beginning and been done with
it. Rich and Face talked about it, but they figured all this evidence
should ensure that none of your friends get the idea to pick up where you
left off, so they took the time to gather it. Besides, they didn't really
have it in `em to kill you in cold blood. Not like me. But like I said,
they're gone now. It's just you and me, babe." "You'll...you'll never..."
croaked Wright.

 "Get out of here alive?" the whore finished for him. "Maybe not, but
don't count on it."

 He bounced up off the bed, wiping his bloody hands on the sheets. "Hey,
don't you want to know where I've been hiding everything?" With a smile,
he reached between the mattresses and pulled out several file folders and
computer disks, holding them up. "Last place you'd look, isn't it?" he
asked triumphantly, laying them on the bedside table. "Right here where
you've been fucking me for the last six months. You've been laying right
on top of `em every night!"

 He turned to pick up his clothes, making a show of examining his body in
the mirror. As it had been for six months, his torso was covered with
bruises. White scars and newer red welts crossed his shoulders, chest,
belly, groin, and thighs, mute testament to the teeth, razors, and belt
buckles that had regularly broken the skin. Turning his back to the
mirror, he looked over his shoulder and saw the same evidence reflected
there. "Don't suppose the cops would arrest me for killing you once they
saw these marks," he remarked conversationally. "They'd call it
justifiable homicide, you know. They'd assume after six months of abuse, I
finally found a way to escape and had to kill you to do it. And of course,
I wouldn't tell them I let you do this to me on purpose. They wouldn't
know I'm just a whore."

 Wright was beyond hearing, but it didn't really matter. "Besides," the
whore continued, "I knew eventually you'd get tired of me like you did all
the others, and I'd wind up in several garbage sacks scattered around the
city. And you know, it's always better to be proactive. That's what you
are...well, were...and Rich learned a lot from you." 

 Finished dressing, he slipped the files into a large envelope which he
tucked into the back of his pants, zipping his jacket to help keep it in
place, then turned his attention to one last task before walking to the
door. "Say hi to the devil for me, Mr. Wright," he whispered on the way
out, turning to take one last look at the dead man. "I expect I'll be
seeing you down there one day soon."

 He slipped out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house
undetected. He strode across the compound, making no attempt to conceal
himself. It would be impossible anyway, and if his movements were furtive,
the guards would be alerted too soon. People were used to seeing him out
and about, though not at this late hour. They weren't likely to challenge
him until they saw him going over the fence. If he were lucky, they'd be
looking the other way at the fire he'd set in the bedroom as he was
leaving. This was the riskiest part; if he blew this, the evidence would
never get out.

 To his relief, he made it to the well-lit perimeter unchallenged, but his
luck ran out as he was scaling the fence.

 "Hey, you!" a voice shouted. "Stop!"

 Heedless of the barbed wire as it tore at his clothes and skin, he
scrambled the rest of the way over the fence and dropped on the other
side. Turning to run, he stumbled as a bullet grazed his shoulder and
another bit into his side, but he recovered and ran for his life. He
couldn't remember how he knew, but he knew how to evade his pursuers, how
to hide, and in spite of his injuries and their best efforts, he
eventually lost them.

 In the pre-dawn darkness, Hannibal opened the front door to retrieve the
morning paper shortly after he heard it smack into the big flower pot
outside. Damned paperboy couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a
tank, but he was managing to destroy every plant in the neighborhood.
Stepping out, he nearly stumbled over a fat envelope. Looking around and
seeing nobody, he picked the envelope up and examined the front. A dark
red stain marred the surface, almost making it impossible to decipher the
one word written across the front: Hannibal.

 Hidden in the shadows across the street, the whore watched as the
silver-haired man closed the door. Then, clutching his side, he stepped
out of the shadows and walked away, head down. He still had one more thing
to do, one thing he'd promised Rich before he died.

 "You okay, mister?" Cruising back from his route, the paperboy had nearly
ridden the man down, having to swerve onto a lawn to miss him.

 The man nodded without answering. The paperboy watched him leave,
wondering whether he should wake his mom and tell her there was a stranger
in the neighborhood. Nah, he looked like he was leaving, anyway. Riding
his bike back over the mangled vegetation growing at the edge of the lawn,
the paperboy promptly forgot the incident as he pedaled home.

 FINIS

  
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