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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental and/or used fictionally.
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WARNING: This chapter contains graphic scenes that some readers might find disturbing. What is written in no way whatsoever represents the author's personal feelings and is written in the context of the overall series. Reader discretion is advised.
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Chapter 14
Justice Served - Part II
For several moments The Gunner did not know what to say or do. He looked at the boy he had loved so desperately and stared, thinking that the boy looked so . . . beautiful, yet somehow . . . different. He wondered if the difference was due to the handsome, muscled young man standing beside The Phantom.
The Gunner knew, of course, that Chef had determined - how or why The Gunner did not know - that the blond-haired, rosy cheeked, handsome young officer, Colin Arnott, would be "Custos Principum", the Guardian of Princes. If looks were the only criteria, then Chef had chosen well. But . . . There was something else. Colin's eyes were clear, calm, and expressed a steeliness that bespoke courage and his determination that no one, not The Gunner, not Michael Chan, no, not even Chef, would cause any harm to his Prince.
That The Phantom seemed to glow hinted that he and Colin were much closer than Guardian and Prince, and The Gunner felt a pang of jealousy, and regret at not being able to make the younger man glow for him.
The Gunner had little time dwell on his past relationship with The Phantom. The Boys of Aurora descended. Steve Winslow had been a popular instructor, and many of the young Knights called him a friend. Randy and Joey were at the forefront, hugging The Gunner closely. The Twins, who had, in their days as cadets, lusted after The Gunner, came forward and greeted him, kissing him gently on the cheek, as became surrogate sons. Commander Stockman, happy to see The Gunner again, was all Naval bonhomie and camaraderie. Kyle and Andy were more restrained, but their pleasure at seeing The Gunner again was evident.
Harry, with Tyler and Val, gave The Gunner a restrained, "manly" hug, although Harry did temper the testosterone by whispering, "Gosh, Gunner, it's so good to see you!" He drew back and smiled. "I wish I could give you a big wet kiss!"
The Gunner looked around and shook his head slowly. "Harry, behave yourself," he admonished.
An evil grin crossed Harry's face. "Does that mean no down-the-throaters?"
"Harry!"
Chuckling, Harry winked and moved aside.
When the last of the Knights finished greeting "their" Gunner, Ace approached. "We really should get started," he said. "The doctor is here as well, and you should meet him."
There was something in Ace's tone that caused The Phantom to look up sharply. It was not his words, but his . . . gentleness. Then he saw Ace slowly brush a small piece of lint from the collar of The Gunner's jacket. The Phantom glanced out of the corner of his eyes and saw Colin's face. Neither spoke, but they both knew that there was much more to Ace's relationship with The Gunner than either man let on.
Neither The Phantom nor Colin had time to reflect on the innocent-seeming gesture. The Gunner spoke firmly. "Lester will set up in whatever room you have available for a briefing. I want an O Group and I want everybody there."
Ace glanced around the lobby. "Everybody?" he asked.
The Gunner nodded. "Yes. I also want to meet whoever is in charge of the new men. We have to bring him, and his men up to speed."
"That would be Ned Hadfield," advised Ace. His voice lowered. "You're going to use the minders?"
"Yes," answered The Gunner. "Michael Chan thinks they can be useful."
Ace was about to reply that from the look of the "minders" they would be more than useful. The Gunner, who had been fully briefed on the quality of the men accompanying the young Knights, had already decided to use them. He would not break up the "teams", so to speak, and had come to agree with Chef that the young Knights would be involved. He turned to Lester.
"Set up your Ops Room, please Lester. I want everyone to know exactly where we're going, and when. I also want it made clear who is in charge of what." He was about to turn to The Phantom when he said, "There are three ladies here as well, and I expect Sophie Nicholson will also show up. I want to speak to the ladies and . . ." He paused and looked at The Phantom, who returned his look. "There is something important that I must do," continued The Gunner, his voice breaking softly, "something very important."
After greeting the cadets, and listening to the ladies, The Gunner knew it was time to speak to The Phantom. They had been friends, more than friends, and Phantom deserved an explanation. Approaching Colin, The Gunner put out his hand. "Hello, Colin, it is good to meet you at last." He smiled warmly. "I've heard good things."
"It's good to meet you, too, Gunner," replied Colin, returning the smile, as he secretly thanked Chef. He did wonder though, how much of what Chef had told the Gunner was hyperbole and how much the truth. He also wondered just how The Gunner would react to his having replaced him in The Phantom's heart . . . and bed.
The Gunner, kept fully informed by Chef of the growing, and close, relationship between The Phantom and Colin, held no animosity. What had happened between The Phantom and himself was in the past. The Gunner wanted to move on, for his sake, and for The Phantom's.
"I would like to speak to Phantom," The Gunner said. Then he added, "Privately."
Colin, knowing that the meeting between The Gunner and The Phantom was necessary to bring closure to both of them, nodded toward the small office off of the lobby. "I'll wait outside," he said.
The Gunner led The Phantom into the office and closed the door. Once seated, he regarded the young man he had loved so well before.
He had changed. The Gunner could see that. His emerald eyes seemed . . . to sparkle, his cheeks, so smooth and high, were flushed with a pink colour that The Gunner had never seen. His body was . . . firmer, his body language sure. Before him sat not a boy stressed and unsure with the changes his body was making, but a young man, a young man sure and confident in who he was, in what he was, but more importantly, in what he had become.
The Gunner could see no anger, no sign of regret or remorse. He watched as the young man returned his steady gaze, with a small smile forming on his lips. The transformation from boy to man was palpable, and all too evident.
The Phantom, seated in an uncomfortable wooden chair that was not good enough to see service at the front of the house, waited for The Gunner to speak. He was not angry, and the sadness that he had felt when The Gunner had left him was long gone. A sense of calmness overcame The Phantom. He had long since realized that Steve Winslow, The Gunner, was who he was. Nothing would change him. The Phantom was content.
Unnerved by The Phantom's calm, almost placid demeanour, The Gunner did not know what to say, did not know how to begin. He fidgeted, he squirmed, and then he blurted out, "So, then, Phantom, how's my car?"
The Phantom started. "His car?" he asked himself. "He abandoned me, and all he's worried about is his bloody car? HELL AND SHEEIT!" Then he realized that the man was nervous, unsure of what to say, unsure of what questions to ask, and very unsure of the answers he might receive!
Shaking his head, The Phantom said quietly, "It's parked in my driveway back home," he snickered, "all safe and sound - only a few new dents."
The Gunner coloured and laid his head against the back of the wing chair he was sitting in. Embarrassed, he ran his hand over his face and murmured, "I'm sorry, I'm . . ."
The Phantom leaned forward and took The Gunner's hand in his, and kissed it gently. "No regrets, Steve, no recriminations." Releasing The Gunner's hand he sat back in his chair. He regarded The Gunner and moment and then said, "I will always love you, Steve, just as I will always remember what we once had."
The Gunner sighed softly. "Please believe me, Phantom. I truly had every intention of returning to Comox." Once again he passed his hand across his face. "It's just that events seemed to . . . overtake me. One minute I was happy just being me, happy with being with you and the next . . ." He shook his head and his eyes grew dim. "I failed you Phantom, and for that I am truly sorry."
The Phantom thought carefully about what he could say. "Steve, you did not fail me." He shrugged and raised his eyes slightly. "You disappointed me, and at first blush I thought you'd broken my heart."
The Gunner had not failed to notice the use of his Christian name. He could not help but think that their relationship had taken a new turn. "You were in love with me," he said softly, "and I was in love with you."
"No, Steve," said The Phantom. His tone was soft, and calm. "We loved each other, we still love each other, but in retrospect, we were not in love." He saw The Gunner about to protest and raised hand. "Steve, we had something very special, you and I, something so few men have. We had love, affection, and respect for each other."
"Do we still have it?" asked The Gunner, his face flushed.
"Yes, Steve, we do," affirmed The Phantom, his voice firm. "I still love you, as a man, as a friend, as a mentor. But, while I do care for you deeply, I also know, now, that you have been touched by the Hand of God."
The Gunner snorted. "I am far from being a saint, Phantom, and if God's Hand has touched me it was only to slap me upside the head!"
The Phantom chuckled. "You're wrong," he said. "In some ways you and I are in the same boat. You have been called to a higher plane, so to speak. You are the Phoenix that will rise and restore the Order."
"But at what price?" asked The Gunner wryly.
"Steve, I know that when we were together we had something special. You loved me, but in your own way. I was so head over heels in love with you, or at least I thought I was, I didn't see the other side of the coin." He regarded The Gunner and said, "Nor did you, or if you did, you ignored it."
The Gunner returned The Phantom's look, his mind moving backward in time to a table on the jetty at Comox, a time when his eyes saw only the sparkling lights of HMCS Aurora shimmering across the dark waters of the harbour, a time when he had failed to hear similar words.
"Joel," The Gunner whispered.
"Joel?" asked The Phantom, confusion written on his face.
The Gunner nodded slowly. "Before . . . before I met you, before we began our relationship, I was trying to save my relationship with Joel." He regarded The Phantom a moment. "But then, you know that."
"Yes, I know," replied The Phantom. He ducked his head in embarrassment. "Remember the fit I pitched when I found out about him?"
"Blew a gasket, if I recall correctly," replied The Gunner dryly.
"Yeah," admitted The Phantom, flushing slightly. He grinned. "I don't know what pissed me off more, the fact that you were sleeping with him or seeing that picture of him in a Speedo!"
The Gunner laughed. "Well, Joel did have a great body and he could fill out a Speedo a treat." Then he sobered. "Joel came to Comox. We had sex and then we went out to dinner. What I didn't know was that he was ending our relationship."
"He was?" interjected The Phantom. The Gunner had never told him how or why his relationship with Joel ended.
"He was," confirmed The Gunner. "He was tired of it all. He told me that I loved something more than I could ever love him . . ."
"The Navy," said The Phantom.
"Yes, the Navy. Joel could not understand how I could love an institution that would deep six me if it ever found out what I was. He didn't want to be a camp follower, and he didn't want to live in the closet, as I was doing."
The Phantom resisted the urge to remind The Gunner that their relationship had been the same, in the closet, clandestine, and rife with fear of discovery.
"He was right, of course," said The Gunner as he continued. "I did everything I could think of not to draw attention to my sexuality." He laughed caustically. "God, I was such a pain in the ass, so bloody straight! I lived in fear, Phantom. I knew what I was and I played the game the Navy wanted me to play. Joel knew it, and would have none of it."
"So he ended it."
"Very much so," confirmed The Gunner with a slight shake of his head. "He took the same path I took."
The Phantom regarded The Gunner, his curiosity piqued. "How so?"
"Joel avoided me, and refused to take my telephone calls. He did not contact me, he cut off all ties. I was, I suppose, now in his past. I did the same thing to you, although I didn't do it deliberately." The Gunner chuckled caustically. "Eventually we did meet, and we did settle our differences. Joel told me that he understood me, that I would never be truly happy." He regarded The Phantom a moment. "That was before I went to your house in Comox and before our relationship began. Joel was well out of my life when I came calling."
The Phantom nodded. "Steve, I don't want to be out of your life, or you to be out of mine." He smiled. "Whether we like it or not, we are both a part of the Tapestry. We can't change that, even if we wanted to."
The Gunner could not keep the scepticism from his voice. "You believe that?"
The Phantom nodded firmly. "Yes, Steve, I do. What I dreamed was not some schoolboy fantasy, some vestige of a Hollywood extravaganza. I saw Sylvain, I saw the knights, and I saw those who will become knights, become a part of us." His emerald eyes regarded his former lover and he continued. "Steve, I am not asking you to share my beliefs. I am only asking that you accept that I believe."
The Gunner started. "I seem to recall saying much the same thing to you," he said presently.
"I remember. We were standing outside of the Departures Lounge at the Comox aerodrome and you were explaining, or trying to explain your belief in the True Cross." The Phantom shook his head. "I didn't believe you, and I am still embarrassed about that."
"Don't be," responded The Gunner kindly. "I am not at all embarrassed that I doubted your dream', your vision'. It is the nature of men to doubt. Greater, better men than I have been consumed with doubt." He scratched his chin reflectively. "What matters is that while we doubt, we leave room to accept. When we are wrong, when our doubts are made clear, we apologise, and we move on."
The Phantom rose from his chair and impulsively hugged The Gunner. "Steve, I meant what I said. I will always love you."
"I know, and I will always love you," replied The Gunner slowly as he raised his arms and gently placed his hands on The Phantom's shoulders, pushing him back to resume eye contact. "Tell me truthfully, Phantom," he began gently, "will we ever be lovers again? Will we have what you and the Twins, Harry, Matt, and the others have?"
The Phantom thought, considered The Gunner's words, and reluctantly shook his head. "It would not be right," he said slowly. "I cannot explain it, but . . ." He touched his chest. "I just feel deep inside that it would not be right."
The Gunner nodded. "Good." He saw the quizzical look that came into The Phantom's eyes and continued. "I will never be a constant in your life, Phantom. I realize that, now. I wish I could be, but I cannot. I came to Toronto to attend a funeral, and now look at me, the leader of a small army about to embark on what Chef calls a crusade. I didn't ask for that leadership, I deep down fear that leadership, but I accept the mantle." His shoulders sagged. "What would Chef say?"
"Deus Vult," murmured The Phantom. "God wills it."
"Yes. It would seem that we are both destined to be something we never conceived of being, leaders of men. We are both destined to help weave a great Tapestry. Your panels will always hold the same figures, for once they come into your life, they will maintain constant and faithful. My panels?" He shrugged expressively.
The Phantom felt the pain that The Gunner so obviously felt. "Steve, I don't know what the future will bring. I don't know how many more `figures' will appear in my panels of the Tapestry. I believe, though, that you are a part of them, and always will be. Yes, you will appear, and then a new crusade will loom, and you will be a part of it."
"My destiny?" queried The Gunner, arching one eyebrow.
"Perhaps," conceded The Phantom.
"Will I know again love? Will I know the love we once had, or the love you now have with Colin Arnott?"
The Phantom recalled his conversation with Sandro and asked himself if Sandro had been correct in his assessment of The Gunner. Was Steve Winslow another Boris Godunov, destined to love, but to never be in love? Was The Gunner destined to spend his life on the ramparts, always watching, always ready to sublimate his own desires to his conception of duty and honour?
Looking deep into The Gunner's eyes, The Phantom knew the answer would be yes, for such was The Gunner's destiny. The concept of duty and honour, of absolute devotion to that concept, was too deeply ingrained in The Gunner. This `crusade', this coming cleansing of the Order had, if anything, confirmed the man's dedication, if that was the word The Phantom wanted. Steve Winslow would never change, not now. The Order was Steve Winslow's life, and for as long as he lived, Steve Winslow would be the Order.
Drawing away, The Phantom whispered the only answer he could properly give to The Gunner's question. "I don't know."
But he did know. Steve Winslow would never know the love that existed between men, never know the deepness of companionship that held men together. He would know love in the existential sense, and he would know sexual pleasure, but he would never know true, lasting love.
The Gunner sensed the young man's unease, and knew that he had asked a question to which there was really no answer. He cared deeply for Acton Grimes, just as he had cared deeply for Joel Chiang and The Phantom. But years of repression, years of secrecy, of hiding his true self, had taken their toll. He knew, as he suspected The Phantom knew, that he was incapable of showing the outward manifestations of love. Colin Arnott saw nothing wrong in expressing his love, in walking into the sunlight, while he, The Gunner, had always feared the sun, and preferred the dark shadows of what he called discretion.
Of course there were no shadows. There was a wall, years in the building, a wall that Steve Winslow would not, and could not, allow to be breached. He realized, deep in his soul, that he had allowed the prejudices and bigotry of the ages to cloak the façade of the wall in mortar and stone, until it held the strength of steel. The wall remained, and The Gunner's will buttressed it.
"Well?" asked Colin, his eyebrows arching inquisitively. He and The Phantom were walking down the corridor that led to the games room, and Colin could not hide his curiosity about what had happened behind the closed door of the office.
The Phantom stopped and his hand reached up to stroke Colin's handsome, smooth face. "He asked me if he would ever know the love that you and I have," he said with a small, beautiful smile.
"Will he?" asked Colin. He reached up to gently place his hand over The Phantom's.
"No, I don't think he will," replied The Phantom, his words tinged with sadness. He saw the look of surprise in Colin's eyes and continued. "Steve Winslow is a wonderful man. He is also a frightened man."
"Wha . . .?"
The Phantom looked around the empty corridor and said quietly. "Colin, do you remember the first time we were together?"
Colin grinned. "Too bloody right!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Where shall I start?" he asked. "How about the pool? I'd never done anything in a pool before. Or how about your bedroom? Or maybe the kitchen? I'd never been naked in a kitchen before."
The Phantom sniggered, his green eyes sparkling. "Well, it is rather unhygienic and also dangerous if you're cooking bacon!" Then he sobered. "But I didn't mean that," he said firmly.
"What did you mean?"
"Remember what you said?"
Colin thought a moment. "You mean about running down Comox Road . . . nekkid?"
"Yes." The Phantom leaned back against the wall. "That and walking down the Esplanade - together."
Colin heard the emphasis of The Phantom's words. "Phantom, I love you. I'm proud of you, and I am not ashamed to show you off! If I could I'd, hell I would buy a full-page ad in every paper in the country proclaiming my love!"
"You would; Steve Winslow can't," responded The Phantom flatly.
"Pardon?"
"Steve Winslow is incapable of publicly expressing his feelings, his love, for another man," said The Phantom with a shake of his head. "He's lived most of his life in the shadows, afraid to express his true feelings."
"Phantom, he's gay. He has a career that he loves. He knows what would happen if his secret came out," Colin pointed out. "His attitude is perfectly understandable."
The Phantom nodded agreement. "But Colin, he reads into the most innocent activities something sinister." He regarded Colin and continued. "Before Steve and I became an item he was seeing a man named Joel Chiang. Joel is gay, which goes without saying, and not at all reticent about it. He doesn't care who knows, or what others think about it." The Phantom sighed. "Steve would not allow Joel to express his feelings openly. From what I learned they never went anywhere except to bed. If they were hungry they went to an out of the way restaurant, quiet, with few customers, and always late at night."
"Places filled with shadows," murmured Colin as he shook his head.
"Yes. Always shadows." The Phantom sighed. "Steve was terrified that his secret would come out. Hell, he almost fainted twice when we were in Aurora when Cory . . ."
"Was anointed the Penis Pope?" Colin grinned.
"In a way, yes. Every New Entry class - the Sea Puppies - have to pass a swimming test. Steve would help Mike Sunderland - he was the Chief PTI - and Phil Adean . . ."
"Called `The Assistant'," finished Colin gravely.
"Yes. Anyway, Steve would help put the Puppies through their paces. One afternoon we were all down at the swimming beach - we had Sliders, I seem to recall."
"Something happened."
The Phantom's head bobbed slightly. "Cory had the hots for The Gunner . . ."
"Big surprise there," drawled Colin.
Ignoring Colin's snideness, The Phantom continued. "After the Puppies had all been certified fit for swimming, there was a scrum in the water. Cory managed to get his hand up The Gunner's shorts!"
"To find what he wanted to find," observed Colin. Then he pointed out, needlessly, "Cory is the Penis Pope, after all."
The Phantom gave his lover a dark look. "Anyway . . . The Gunner damned near went ape. How could Cory do that? How could he put his hand up his shorts? Didn't Cory realize what could happen if someone saw him doing it?"
Colin raised his hand. "I get the picture."
"So you understand what I'm getting at. The Gunner was horrified and terrified. Cory was being Cory, he didn't so much as fondle as squeeze, you know, just checking Steve out."
"Hardly the first time one guy as felt up another guy, just `playing around', so to speak." Colin's smile widened. "Teenage boys can be sooo curious!"
"Speaking from experience?" The Phantom sniped.
"You betcha ass," returned Colin smoothly. "If I had a buck for every time some guy checked me out in the showers I could pay off my student loans! Everybody does it."
"The Gunner did not see it that way. He never touched Cory."
"Phantom, Steve knew what Cory was like. He should have expected it."
"Maybe he did, but he carried on like the MPs were lurking in the sea grass just waiting for him to jump Cory's bones."
"Which he wasn't."
"Which he wasn't," repeated The Phantom. "The second thing that happened occurred during a ball game. Steve was 3rd Base coach. Cory hit a home run and took off like a blue-arsed ape."
Colin could not help himself. He giggled, and then looked crestfallen. "Sorry."
Rolling his eyes, The Phantom continued. "Cory was running hard, and when he crossed home plate it would be the winning run."
"So what happened?"
"As Cory rounded third the baseman, it was Nicholas, reached out and pulled down Cory's shorts! Of course, being Cory, he wasn't wearing anything under the shorts, not even a jock!"
"Thereby letting Little Cory have a peek at the world - and assembled spectators."
The Phantom giggled. "Well, yes. The problem was, and is, that Cory has a temper and he let go big time. He charged at Nicholas and The Gunner grabbed him. As Cory tells it all The Gunner felt were Cory's pubies, although he did say that Little Cory flopped around while he was struggling and the head slapped the back of The Gunner's hand!"
"So . . . and is Cory that big?"
"Not really, but he likes to brag. Anyway, it was all innocent! Cory hadn't dropped his drawers - Nichols pulled them down. Cory wasn't even thinking about anything remotely sexual. All he wanted to do was punch the shit out of Nicholas."
"Then what was the problem?"
"The Gunner! He went white, his whole body shook and he started to sweat! Hell and sheeit, he was so afraid that someone might think he'd groped Cory that I swear he couldn't think!"
The Phantom, who had witnessed the incident, did not know that The Gunner had reacted for another reason. Only Cory knew that The Gunner had, innocently or not, become aroused, his erection pressing sharply between the boy's buttocks. Cory, true to the oath he had sworn on the dusty ball field, had not told anyone what he had felt, not even The Phantom.
"It was a stupid reaction, or over-reaction, to a perfectly innocent event!" The Phantom regarded Colin. "And therein lies the difference between him and you."
"How so?"
"Colin, when we were all in Comox and you went to use the heads, and Cory came in to check you out, you made a joke about it. You opened your pants, pulled out your dick and balls and gave him a good look."
"I also tweaked the end of his pecker and called him `Tiger'," interjected Colin. "You should have seen the look on his face!"
"I can imagine," said The Phantom. "But Colin, the difference is that you're not afraid. You can joke about what we are, the way we are. Steve is afraid. He can't see the humour for his fear. He has to hide in the shadows because he's afraid of discovery. You, you're not afraid to express your love. He is, and that is why he'll never know the love you and I have."
"And also why one day he will disappoint Acton Grimes as he disappointed you." Colin sighed. "He'll be a great man, one day, but a flawed man. I feel sorry for him."
The Phantom nodded. "I hope he one day realizes his flaw, but I don't think he will."
"Steve is what he is, Phantom. He won't change," said Colin.
"I know," whispered The Phantom. "He will be a great Chancellor, a great Grand Master, but he will never be a great man."
"You are too harsh, Phantom" said Colin. His reached out and rested his hand on The Phantom's shoulder. "But that will change, and when the time comes, as I suspect it will, you will be there for him."
"Will you be there, Colin?" asked The Phantom as he gazed into Colin's wonderful blue eyes. "Will you be there with me?"
Not caring who saw, Colin gave The Phantom a quick peck on his lips. He could hear the low hum of conversation coming from the open door leading the games room and knew that they should be there. However, he wanted to assure The Phantom that his intentions were based on love, not only for The Phantom, but for Steve Winslow, for all the knights. He grinned and said, "You betcha ass!"
The banquettes that lined three of the four walls of the games room were filled. On one end, near the small wooden lectern that Lester had resurrected from the basement, Commander Stockman, Andy Berg and Kyle St. Vincent sat quietly. All three were unsure of what their role would be in the coming "crusade". Commander Stockman was worried that his "young gentlemen" would go in harm's way. He was, at the end of the day, responsible for the cadets and the burden weighed heavily on him. He was also aware that every one of the young Knights was determined to play a part.
Behind the dais, looking indifferent, were Terry Hsiang and Ned Hadfield. Terry, as Michael Chan's representative, had adopted a phlegmatic attitude. He had been sealed to Michael's service, and Michael was asking for a service. So far as Terry was concerned there was no question or doubt. He would do what was asked of him, and he had a plan that would hopefully ease the way and divert the attention of parties that might be interested in what was about to happen. He was content.
Ned Hadfield, on the other hand, was worried and fidgety. He knew the outline of the plan to save the enslaved boys. He approved of the plan, but he was more concerned with doing his job. Alex Grinchsten, his superior and actual Chief of Security, had impressed on Ned that he was to ensure the safety of the young knights. If anything happened to one of them, Ned would be in it up to his neck. Before leaving Ste Anne de Beaupré, Alex had been firm. Ned had been warned: his primary concern, his only concern, was the safety of his charges. Michael Chan trusted Ned. Alex trusted Ned. As with Commander Stockman, the trust weighed heavily on Ned.
The "Rangers" sat as a group about halfway down the banquette. They were as ready as they ever were. They were dressed in black, and each man was armed. They knew what was required of them. They were soldier knights, almost, and they had put on the armour of the night.
Lester fussed about. He had done his best to prepare everything that The Gunner had asked of him. The cars and vans were laid on. The houses that would be visited, were clearly identified on the large map that covered the green felt of the billiard table. Lester had laboured on the map, wanting to be as accurate as possible. He had first purchased two Perly's Guides of the city and then cut and pasted with a vengeance. Main routes were identified in green marker, escape routes with red. There was even an overlay of Oakville's "Gold Coast".
The Hospital was as ready as it could be. Doctor Hampton, supplied from the Chinese Community Hospital, was busily setting up what he called the Sick Bay in a small room off of the restaurant. The rooms were ready down to the last bar of soap and flower arrangement. Mrs. Arundel, Mrs. Randolph and Mrs. Airlie were standing by to act as Matrons. Cook and her relatives were ready with vats of soup, sandwiches, and cake.
Aaron Goldschmidt and his brother Yacov stood ready as well. They had used their connections wisely, and provided information to The Gunner. They had also provided untraceable weapons, and stood ready to assist in any way possible. They had kept in the shadows, and while Aaron wondered if his superiors in Mossad might be a little concerned in what he and Yacov had done, he did not care. To take down a worldwide slavery ring, to destroy a man who continued to foster Nazism, was to them more important. Let Jerusalem grumble. Let the rabbis moan. There were far more important things to worry about.
The Gunner felt content as he looked around the games room. He saw The Phantom, sitting with Colin behind Commander Stockman and his officers. The Gunner accepted that the young man, and his knights, would be a part of the operation. He looked around and saw the faces of the boys he had left in Comox, boys who had arrived in Toronto as young men. He saw the determination written on every face. What he had called for, what he had worked for, what he would do, the men he would lead, was represented in every face.
The Gunner began to gather his thoughts and was about to speak when Sophie Nicholson, together with Jim and Aaron Edgar, came quietly into the room.
Sophie was dressed conservatively in black and her face was etched with the pain she felt for a helpless young man who lay near death in a hospital room. She walked slowly, as if the very life had been drained from her, holding Chief Edgar's arm. As she walked down the length of the games room the young men rose in silence. Mrs. Arundel and her ladies rose as well, and held out their arms in greeting and understanding.
"I am Sophie Nicholson," whispered Sophie as she accepted the kiss of greeting that ladies gave one another from Caroline Arundel. It was a greeting of equals.
"I am Caroline Arundel. How is the boy?" returned Mrs. Arundel as she made room on the bench for Sophie.
Sophie's eyes clouded and a tear slid slowly down her cheek. She shook her head. "The doctors say there is no change." She took a deep breath. "I fear that Eugen's life is moving to its close."
The Gunner's heart seemed to constrict. "Should you be here?" he asked kindly.
Sophie looked deeply into The Gunner's eyes. "I will be there at the end. He will not die alone." She squared her shoulders. "But for now, my place is here." Her voice took on the timbre of steel. "I will not allow him to die with the man who did this . . . abomination, still free." With ominous firmness she stated without remorse, "I do not want justice, I want revenge, and I will be in at the kill."
The Gunner could not argue. Mrs. Arundel saw her sons sitting quietly and understood. If her Cory, or her Todd, were lying comatose she knew that she would want what Sophie wanted. She also knew that she should not be thinking of vengeance, but she was a mother and a mother's love, and protection knew no bounds.
Mary Randolph regarded her nephew, Blake, seeing the fine young man he had become, and the true man he would be. Her face became as stone as she reached out to gently pat Sophie's arm.
Mabell Airlie thought of her long dead son, and the ring that she had given to Mary Randolph. Her son had died for King and Country, true, but he had also been prepared to die for something much more important. He had sworn the same oath, accepted the same responsibilities as the beautiful young men who filled this room. Her son was dead, but his spirit, his willingness to right wrong wherever he found it, lived on in this room. She bobbed her head sharply and smiled at Sophie.
"They understand," The Gunner thought as he observed the looks on the faces of the ladies. "They will never retreat. Beneath the silk and scent of lilacs and lavenders and roses is steel, unbending steel." Then he thought, "God help me if I fail them."
The light tapping of Lester's finger on his watch drew The Gunner from his musing. He nodded to Lester, regarded the assembly and cleared his throat.
"I suppose that as your leader I am supposed to make a rousing speech," began The Gunner, his words tinged with humour. He shrugged. "Unfortunately I am not one to make speeches, rousing or otherwise. What I will do is tell you all that I appreciate your help. Together we will do a great thing, and rid the world of a cancer. We will also cleanse our Order and bring some solace to a group of boys who have known nothing but pain." His eyes grew hard and his words were rimed with ice. "Our crusade has begun. What has happened in Quebec will continue to happen here, in Toronto, and in other places."
Gripping the edges of the lectern, The Gunner continued. "Justice has been served in Quebec. It will be served in Ontario shortly."
A low murmur filled the games room. The knights knew that a Bar of Justice had been called, and that death by hanging was the only sentence. They did not know that one knight had already suffered the ultimate penalty, although they suspected it. Ned Hadfield, who had spoken to Alex Grinchsten just before he and Chef had boarded their plane, knew. He also knew that General de Lamer, whoever he was, was also dead, apparently killed in a fire that had consumed his house, and Ned wondered what, if anything, the Order, had to do with that.
". . . Eight boys have been rescued," The Gunner was saying, "and have begun the process that I, no we, all hope will allow them to live their lives in peace and security." He paused, regarded the young knights, and continued. "We, as knights, take an oath to succour and help our brothers who suffer pain and degradation. Soon you will all know why a Bar of Justice was called." He shook his head sadly. "We have identified fourteen `owners' who are keeping boys in slavery here in Toronto. We know of at least 30 boys, ranging in age from nine to fourteen years old. We will bring them all here."
The firmness of purpose in The Gunner's voice was not lost on his listeners. Sophie, the sight of Eugen's broken body never absent from her mind, nodded. The Phantom, fully aware of what was going on, and kept informed by Chef, felt his eyes tear up. He felt no guilt, no remorse, in what he was about to do.
The Gunner coughed, and addressed the young knights. "Our purpose tonight is not to do any harm. We are to rescue boys, period. You will enter strange houses and be confronted by angry owners." He looked grimly at the Rangers, and at Ned. "Let those with experience deal with them."
What no one except Lester knew was that The Gunner had given his solemn oath to Michael that none of the young knights would be put in harm's way. Ned Hadfield, as their chief minder, had had impressed on him that his job, and the job of the other minders, was to ensure the safety of their charges. Ned fully intended to do his job.
"Now, we are about ready. The cars are waiting. We know the targets and we know how many boys there are. Our job is to save them, nothing more, and nothing less."
Much to The Gunner's surprise, The Phantom rose. His voice was low and calm as he asked, "What of those boys who do not want to be rescued?"
The Phantom's question was not unexpected. The Gunner had seen refusal in Sepp and Gottfried, and in Gino. They were older than the majority of the boys, and had been on the game a long time. He had no doubt that some of the boys would want to stay where they were. Lester and he had discussed the possibility and had come to the conclusion that there was really nothing to be done.
"Those boys who refuse our help will be left alone." He regarded Lester a moment and said, "Very soon word will filter through the gay community that there is a place for them to go for help. I know that some will refuse that help. Others will accept it." He shrugged. "We cannot and will not force anyone to accept the ideals and philosophy of the Order."
Satisfied, The Phantom resumed his seat. Shane Kingscote stood. "I want Buttery Street," his voice firm.
The Gunner knew that Shane had developed a bond of sorts between the two boys who were held in the Buttery Street house and himself. Shane had met them, and had seen their "master" up close.
"You have it," The Gunner replied, hoping that Shane would remember his instructions not to harm any of the men holding boys.
Sophie's lips grew thin. "And I have a bone to pick with a certain man in Oakville," she said ominously.
The Gunner nodded. "The Man in Oakville" was known to Sophie, had been a member of her third wedding party. He had been a friend and Sophie, appalled and shocked at the knowledge that the man bought and sold young boys, felt violated. Christopher Ross McLennden had violated her trust. She would have revenge.
"Chief Edgar will accompany you." He looked around the games room. "As will Blake Randolph, Harry, and Mike Sunderland."
The three young men rose as The Gunner spoke their names. Sophie regarded them, all six foot plus of each of them and nodded. She looked into their eyes and saw their determination. She was content.
"Phantom, I would like you and Colin to accompany Shane." He turned to Ned. "Your men will accompany their principals."
Ned nodded his head. "They know what is required of them." He would reinforce Michael's orders before the men left, and was sure that they would, as he had promised, do what was required of them.
The Gunner began calling out names, his plan being that each car would contain, in addition to the Chinese driver, a Ranger, or one of Terry Hsiang's men. They knew the routes to the houses and they knew the layout of the grounds. One of the knights would accompany them, along with his minder. Commander Stockman would remain in the Hospital, assisting the ladies. Andy and Kyle would accompany The Gunner to the Belfast Street brothel, as would the Goldschmidt brothers. Sandro and Nate Schoenmann would also remain in the Hospital. Sandro spoke Russian, and Nate spoke German. They would act as translators as the boys came in.
Thinking that he was finished, The Gunner stepped away from the lectern. He was brought up short by a loud, indignant, snort. Looking down the games room, he paled slightly. Staring back at him were four very pissed off young knights!
Randy, Joey, Calvin and Simon were outraged. They knew, or at least they thought they knew, that the other knights looked down on them as "little boys", creatures too young to understand life, and in need of protection. Joey did not feel the need to be protected, or cuddled. He could take care of himself, and had Randy to cuddle, thank you very much. Calvin had been more or less a free agent much of his life. He figured that if he could handle his older brother Mikey, he could handle anything.
Simon, although a quiet boy, was not about to be left sitting on the sidelines playing with his dick. He was old enough, or so he thought, to know what he wanted. He remembered the words The Phantom had spoken to him back on the secluded beach at the end of the spit of land where HCMS Aurora sat. The Phantom had told Simon that no matter what, he would always be a friend. Simon's lips grew thin. It was time to cash in a few chips.
"I know you all think that we're just kids!" he said, his voice squeaking. He swung his arm, indicating the three other younger knights. "But we are not! Just because we're younger, and smaller, we're just as good as you all are and we are knights!"
The Phantom heard Simon's words. The problem was Simon was right. He, along with all the others, had tended to look upon Simon, and Calvin, and Joey and Randy, more as "little brothers", to be cosseted and protected, than as peers, young men in their own right. He saw the Twins exchange a look and then glance down to where Harry was sitting. Harry had a face on him like a thundercloud and The Phantom knew what Harry was thinking.
While he had not been there, The Phantom knew that one night, after a particularly vicious storm, Harry had nipped at the rum bottle, well, if the truth were told, Harry had gulped at the rum bottle, and bemoaned the fact that as a Sea Cadet he, and the other senior cadets, Chief Petty Officers, were regarded by their officers as little more than children. They could not move off the Spit without an "escorting officer". They could not fly, take a bus, or ride a train as a group, without an "escorting officer". They were not allowed to go ashore to Comox alone. If they did go ashore, they were required to wear uniform, which on a hot, muggy day was like wearing asbestos shorts and made your crotch smell like an Arab's armpit! Harry, for his part, was sick of it. He was a young man, a young man who had managed to take care of himself, and could go to the bathroom alone. He didn't need, or want, an escort when he peed, thank you very much. If Simon was looking for an ally, he had definitely found one in Harry.
Commander Stockman groaned softly. On the one hand, he understood where the younger boys were coming from. They were part of something they thought wonderful, and important, and saw no reason why they could not be what they were: knights.
On the other hand, Commander Stockman was legally responsible for the safety of every one of them! He could, without any conscience pangs, fudge when it came to the older cadets. Harry, Tyler, Val, Mike Sunderland, and Phil Thornton, were large, healthy young men. Blake Randolph was a Corporal in the Seaforths, and very much his own man. Nate Schoenmann was a civilian. Sean Anders, while a Chief, was 18 and could argue that he was old enough, and legal enough, to do what he pleased. Then there were the Twins, whose mother was sitting across the room. She approved of them taking part in the crusade, as did Mary Randolph, whose nephew Blake Randolph was.
All in all, Commander Stockman thought himself in a very sticky wicket. He could not very well enthusiastically endorse the participation of the older cadets, and ignore the younger boys. He had a responsibility, however, to their parents, and he could not ignore it.
The Phantom, seeing the Commanding Officer shaking his head and frankly hesitating, reached out his hand. He patted Commander Stockman's shoulder and said, "Let me handle it."
Visibly relieved, because he frankly had no idea what to do, the Commander nodded. The Phantom regarded the four boys and nodded his head toward the door. "Let's talk."
The Phantom led the four boys to the restaurant, sat them down, and looked at each one carefully. He was determined to make them feel important, while at the same time determined that they would be spared the baser aspects of what was to come.
Joey was equally determined not to be bull-shitted. He'd worked with Chef long enough to know a snow job in the making. Chef was an expert at dancing a fandango around any subject, saying a lot, but really saying nothing. He could also so confuse any issue to the extent that before anyone was really aware of what was happening, they were out the door and whatever they wanted to do was in the nearest dustbin! While Joey loved The Phantom, he was not going to allow that love to cloud his judgement, or allow himself to be talked into not participating.
The Phantom opened the ball. "You guys want a drink, a sandwich?" he offered.
Four heads shook. They were not thirsty, and they were not hungry, thank you.
The Phantom coughed. "Well, let's look at the situation," he began placatingly.
Randy, who could be as big a pain in the butt as his friend and lover, Joey, held up his hand. "Don't play games, Phantom," he warned, his pique rising. "You're not going to make us change our minds. We're knights, we go where the knights go, and that's all there is to it!"
Calvin echoed Randy. "Damn straight," he said with a growl. "I'm not some little kid afraid of his own shadow!"
"And I know that a good kick in the balls works great!" said Simon.
The Phantom rolled his eyes. Now he understood why Chef more often than not called Randy and Joey "pestiferous brats". That Calvin and Simon had joined the league of pestiferous brats strengthened their positions. The Phantom studiously ignored the fact that Chef was also prone to calling him a pestiferous brat!
Faced with four obstreperous brats, The Phantom thought and then hoped that he had come up with an idea that would keep the younger boys here, in the Hospital, safe and sound.
"All right," The Phantom began, "I know you want to go, but here me out, please?"
Four heads nodded.
"It is not so much the danger involved." The Phantom shrugged. "I have a feeling that the guys involved won't want to draw attention to what they've been up to, and won't make any trouble."
"So if there's no danger, and the bastards won't make a fuss, why do we have to stay?" demanded Calvin. "You said we were a part of the Tapestry. You said that you saw us, wearing armour, doing battle. If we're knights, and part of the Tapestry, how come we have to stay behind?"
"Because you are much more important right here," responded The Phantom calmly.
Randy, Joey, Calvin and Simon exchanged doubtful looks. "Snow job coming," they all thought in unison.
The Phantom saw the doubt and regarded Randy. He reached out and took Randy's hand in his. "When your mother died, Randy, what did you do?" he asked.
"Cried," admitted Randy candidly.
"I expected you would," replied The Phantom. "But you reached out to someone. Someone who wasn't your brother, didn't you?"
Randy regarded Joey a minute and nodded his head, smiling shyly. "Yeah, I did."
"Here goes," thought The Phantom. "You reached out to a friend, Randy, because he was what you needed. The boys who come here, and there are a lot of them, will need a friend."
"But we don't know them!" exclaimed Simon.
"It doesn't matter," said The Phantom. "These boys are going to be hurting, hurting bad. All their lives, or maybe for most all their lives, all they've ever know is pain and hurt. Some of them will have been beaten. They've been forced to things that would gag a maggot."
The boys could only imagine the hurt the rescued boys had suffered. Still, they wanted to go. "We're not doctors," Calvin pointed out. "How can we help them if they're hurt? Isn't that why Doctor Hampton is here?"
The Phantom nodded. "He can help cure their physical injuries, the ones we can see. It's the ones we can't see that you can help heal," he said carefully.
Joey spoke for them all. "Huh?"
"When a boy is hurt, he naturally reaches out for his mother," explained The Phantom. "He wants to be held, and cuddled, told the hurt will go away. That's a natural reaction."
Randy thought and then asked, "Isn't that what the ladies are for?"
"When the boys come in the ladies will do what ladies do, mother them, console them with soft words, hold them. They're mothers, after all."
"So what do you need us for?" demanded Randy. "We're not mothers!"
"No, you're not, and never will be," agreed The Phantom, flashing a quick grin. "But . . . let me put it this way: there are times a boy needs his mother, and there are times when he'd rather die than have his mother around." He smiled and continued. "When you go for a medical examination, or if you hurt yourself . . ." He looked pointed down. "If you get hurt `down there', would you want your mother looking at it?"
Calvin, Joey and Simon went white, and shook their heads emphatically. "No way!"
"Point to me," thought The Phantom. "When you have a secret, when you, um, say you started to, um squirt, would you tell your mother?" The Phantom was very embarrassed but felt the best way was to speak as plainly as possible.
All four boys looked as if they were about to faint. "Are you crazy?" demanded Simon. "Tell my mother that I squirt?"
"So who would you tell?" asked The Phantom equably. He did not wait for an answer. "You'd tell your best friend. You tell him all about it. I mean, you don't mind telling him because he's your best friend. Chances are you tell him all your secrets, as he tells you his. Chances also are that you and him have fooled around, seen each other nekkid, maybe played a little highdy ho with him."
It was the turn of the four boys to be embarrassed. Truth be told, they'd done more than a little "highdy ho".
The Phantom smiled inwardly. "Game to me," he thought. He forged on. "So, here we have all the boys. They're afraid. Doctor Hampton is going to want to have a look at them. The boys have been abused by men and they sure as hell don't trust men, but they've got to be examined, have their injuries attended to." He regarded the boys.
They knew what he was getting at. "They won't want to be alone with a man," offered Simon, "even if he is a doctor."
Joey nodded. "If the doctor has to look at them, they'll be naked, with their peckers out, and maybe he'll want to look up their butt?"
"Got to be," interjected Calvin. He blushed a deep red. "I mean, some guy's had his pecker up . . ." He was so embarrassed he could not continue and lapsed into silence.
"They wouldn't want a woman around when that happens!" declared Randy. "I sure as hell wouldn't!"
"Nobody would," agreed The Phantom. "They won't mind you being with them. You all look young and they'll feel comfortable with you. I can't do it. Tyler, Val, none of the older cadets can do it. Nate and Sandro are staying because they speak Russian and German, so they can translate because I doubt many of the younger boys will speak English."
"But because they're older the boys won't trust them," opined Simon.
"And match," thought The Phantom. "Precisely," he said. "They will reach out to you four. They'll tell you what was done to them, which will not be pleasant, but they will talk to you." He looked at each of the young knights. "Your day will come, I promise you. But right now you are much more valuable here. The Gunner needs you here. It's no shame at all. In fact, you have the much tougher job. All I'm going to do is take them from a house. You're going to have to help them pour their guts out, help them get rid of the poison in them."
Simon was the first to speak. "They also serve who stand and wait, I suppose," he said.
"Nobody stands and waits," said The Phantom ecstatically. "We all of us serve in our own way, to our best abilities, and we are all important."
Then, before The Phantom could stop him, Joey rose and came alongside. He kissed The Phantom's cheek. "We were selfish," he said. "You're right. We won't let you down."
Shaking his head, The Phantom replied," I know you won't, just as I know you won't let the rescued boys down."
Simon kissed The Phantom and asked, "Because we're knights?"
"No. Because you are you," replied The Phantom. He reached out his arms. "Because you are the Tapestry, because you are the Boys of Aurora."