SNOWSHINE

Chapter 5

       Later, at home, Brian was still distraught although he sat stoic and unseeing throughout the cab ride home, across the sidewalk, subtly checking, (yes the damnable flower truck was still there) up the elevator and finally in his sliding front door.

       Once inside, away from the world, away from all eyes and ears, except maybe Stockwell's (oh, good point...he turned on the stereo loud) and sat on his couch with his precious picture, poured a glass of Beam and wept bitter tears of sadness, recrimination and regret.

       He had lost Justin. He had lost Gus. Again. And it was even worse now that he knew Gus was not overseas, a faceless entity but a real little boy somewhere where he could have been, should have been a part of his life, watching him grow up. All his life, Brian had lived his life with no rules, no apologies, no regrets. He hadn't given a shit. And up till now that had been OK. But now he had been in love was loved in return and a weird old man knew where his son was and in a horrible gamble he'd given him carte blanche to do what he'd like with him. He had to find Justin! He had to find Gus. He GAVE A SHIT! Maybe for the first time in his life, BRIAN KINNEY GAVE A SHIT!

       As he came to that knowledge, Brian ended his tears and turned his attention to his portrait. He unrolled it and looked at it.

       "They say a picture is worth a thousand words...In this case a thousands words may be found in this picture...IF you look hard enough..."

       The old man's word's echoed back to him through his memory. Brian struggled to figure out the old man's meaning. There was a riddle in there somewhere..

       A thousands words may be found in this picture...IF you look hard enough...

       Brian peered closely at his picture. The trees. His jaw...The fountain. Everywhere.

       There was nothing. It was just a picture. Just a picture. Brian brought it close to a light and scrutinized it further.

       There! In the sun! He had drawn it as a round orb but if Brian looked very carefully he saw that the upper curve was not a line it was writing. In miniscule letters it said: I am safe. Around the lower curve it said: I am loved.

       In one tree, among the leaves, it said: I have friends. Running up the trunk disguised among knotholes and as part of the detailing of the bark was: Gus is here....and...Gus is safe.

       In another tree was: I miss you. Elsewhere in the tree was a squirrel rolling a nut. Disguised in the bush of his tail was: Together again soon.

       In the fountain was: Follow the sign...and: Hope all things. In the jet of water it said: Pearls are real.

       In the curve of his jawline was: I crave you.

       Hidden in his stubble in cursive writing was: My love is infinite.

       Written in various folds of his suit was: I love you. I miss you. Your faithfulness warms me. I am faithful. I am waiting. I am waiting for you.

       Along very bottom was I am yours. Forever.

       Brian straightened up, weary from looking so hard. He was elated with wonder and joy. The portrait was not just a picture. It was a secret love letter! A love letter from Snowshine! But how did that white haired old man fit into this? And what did it mean by follow the signs?

       Brian looked at the portrait again and admired it and read again his favourite passages now that he knew where they were. Then he looked again and was amazed. Very tiny as it they were off in the distance there were two square placards. One was on the left made to look like a far off drive in movie theatre screen. The one on the right simply looked like a highway billboard. But both of them read the same thing. In tiny, but bold, capital letters they read LIBERTY DINER.

       Oh no. No, no, no! Not there. Why oh why did it have to be there. He worked for Stockwell, the most straight laced homophobic bigot in the city if not the planet. He'd be dog meat the minute his first step hit the linoleum. There was no way in hell he could show his face there.

       And yet...it was his only clue. His only clue on a wild search for his Snowshine. Oh why oh why, did that old man have to send him there? Why? Who was that old codger any...

       Then all of a sudden all the clues snapped together inside Brian like a simple jigsaw puzzle. White hair and beard. Slight build. Artist. Breath that should have been fetid but wasn't. Soft hands. Soft and smooth; Brian could still feel them as they'd grabbed him round his neck. Not gnarled and wrinkled like and aged man's should have been. The messages. I am safe. I love you. etc.

       The stereo was still pretty loud so no one else heard the great Brian Kinney give a hoarse cry of grief and elation.

The next day...

Liberty Diner was eternally (well from 7 AM to 7 PM and 9 on the weekends) a kaleidoscope for the senses. It was colourful, there was a constant hum and thrum of conversation, dishes banging, waitresses yelling, (well mostly one waitress in particular.) glass clinking, and bells ringing. Smells permeated the air, meat frying, onions, French fries, oil and vinegar, salt, and a hint of lemon from the never ending pyramid of lemon bars.

       The bell above the door rang. A man in a dark suit and sunglasses entered. He looked a little dazed as he gazed around and went into sensory overload. He smelled all the smells and swore from them alone he immediately gained 2 pounds.

       Everyone in their orange vinyl booths looked over and the entire place went dead silent. The sunglasses did nothing. Everyone knew who he was. A dull growl, leading to a dull roar began to escalate as the customers murmured their discontent and then anger.

       The man tried to diffuse the situation by sliding into an empty booth. He hunched down and propped up a couple of menus on the side of the table to create a makeshift barrier. Then he did something that Brian Kinney would never usually do. He hid.

       It did no good. They still knew he was there. The rising growl grew louder.

       "BOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

       "We know you're there....Kinney!" the name was spat out like someone saying ‘cockroach'.

       "Get out!

       "Get the fuck out!" someone else yelled more stridently.

       Brian hunched further down, thought of Justin, and stayed put.

       "What the FUCK is going on out here!!" yelled an even more strident voice. A tall woman, slightly overweight with frizzy red hair came storming out with a large tray with several orders of food on it. She slammed the tray down on the counter with a fearsome CRASH!!...and then used a water glass as a gavel to bang down on the tray. All the dishes and cutlery went SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! together in an even more fearsome noise, at least twice as loud as the putting down of the tray. The woman SMASH! SMASHed!..the tray for a good half a minute until the entire diner was silent (except for her) and cowering in fear. In was clear that she was judge, jury and executioner and everybody knew it.

       Finally the large waitress gave the glass a final, satisfying...CRASH! and silence reigned.

       "Now! What the FUCK is wrong out here!?"

       "We don't want him in here!"

       "Yeah! We don't want his kind in here!

       "Breeder lover!"

       "Asshole!"

       "Yeah, De - uh...Red! Don't you know who that is? That's Bri -"

       SMASH!! SMASH!! SMASH!! "SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHO THE HELL CARES WHO HE IS!? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK THIS IS!!!?" the woman scream/yelled louder than Brian thought was possible, "THE FUCKIN' 1950's?? HIS KIND?? JESUS FUCKIN' CHRIST!!" SMASH!! Went the water glass just for the hell of it. Her other hand snaked under the counter and with a sloooooow scraping noise brought out...JESUS!! Brian's eyes went wide. A bat. Dammit to Fuck! He was fucked! He hunched down even lower, waiting for the threats...the yelling, and the expulsion that was soon to come. Then he'd never find Snowshine. Never. And it was his own fault for being such a dick, an asshole, a fuckin' sellout. He deserved this. He hated Stockwell with every fiber of his being just then and the ironic thing was nobody in the place would ever believe it.

       "We here...at the Lib - at here," the woman said in a softer but still projected, strident voice that filled the joint, "Reserve the right to refuse service to anyone causing a disturbance." She patted the bat into her hand several times as she spoke.

       Brian cringed. He closed his eyes. His wrist jerked. Clack! Clack! The soft noise soothed him.

       "And the only ones causing a disturbance are ALL YOU DUMB FUCKS! SO SHUT UP AND EAT WHAT I SERVE YOU OR I'LL THROW THE LOT OF YOU OUT AND NOT ONLY CAN THIS MAN EAT IN HERE AS IF HE OWNED THE JOINT, HE'LL EAT FOR FUCKIN' FREE! GOT IT!"

       Everyone was completely cowed and trembled with terror under the woman's fierce wrath. There was dead silence.

       "Good!" she said in a completely different, mother hen type of voice. The bat went back under the counter. "Now...who had the double burger with cheese and who had the pink plate specials?" Several trembling hands went up and she served them, saying things like: "You're too thin! I wanna see a clean plate!...and, "Geez honey, salt's a seasoning, not a side dish! Take it the fuck easy!...and, Take a smaller bite next time honey, we know you like to open wide but save it for Babylon, mmm-kay?" When the round tray was empty, she yelled, "Kiki, catch!" and Frisbee threw the tray toward the back of the diner. The tray whizzed expertly with deadly speed and force inches over people's heads and just at the right moment a tranny popped out of the swinging door leading to the kitchen, caught it, and backed away inside again. At last the strident woman with frizzy red hair made it over to Brian's table. She removed one of the menus and looked down at him.

       "What'll you have sweetie!?" she asked loudly, cracking her gum loudly. But she was already scribbling furiously. She ripped that page off and slammed it down in front of him and then held her pen over a fresh page.

       Brian looked down at the sheet and read:

       U MIGHT B BUGGED

       U DON'T KNOW ME

       NO NAMES

       ORDER SOMETHING ASSHOLE!

       "Um...Pink plate Special?" he ordered tentatively. "And a coffee?" he asked

       "Pink...Plate...Speee-ssshil," she repeated drawing it out, writing as she went. "Cooooo-fffffff-eeeeeeeee....OK, anything else?"

       "I'm hoping to meet someone," Brian said sadly, "I was told I might find him here."

       The waitress let out a shrieking cackle that would put the heartiest fairy tale witch to shame.

       "Aren't we all, honey! Aren't we all! Well, you came to the right place if you want to have a ball! Or maybe two!" Again, she cackled manaically at her own joke that she no doubt had made a dozen times.

       "I'm afraid everyone here would rather have MY balls in a vice," he said. Ànyway..thank you..um...`he petered off, hoping for a name.

       "Oh, we all go by our fairy names here! Sometimes, we choose them, sometimes they choose us," she said, "My name's Red.  You know...the hair," she finished, patting it in explanation.

       "Ahhhhh." he said disinterestedly.

       "What's your fairy name hon?" she asked. At the same time, she slapped down the second note.

       "I'm afraid I don't have one."

       "Well, we'll think up something for you! We'll find something!" I'll go get your order!" she raced off to refill coffees.

       The second note read:

       STOCKWELL IS ENFORCING MANY ASPECTS OF PROP 14 ALREADY DID U KNOW?

       THE THING YOU SEEK IS VERY CLOSE

       EAT YOUR FOOD. AFTER 5 MINS FIND FAULT WITH IT. TOO COLD...TOO MUCH SALT...ANYTHING

       FOLLOW FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS

       Brian's eyes bugged out in surprise. The asshole was enforcing that piece of shit already?" Why was he not informed? Since when? Brian's blood boiled. No wonder they were convinced he was bugged. It was a wonder he wasn't followed but he had checked for tails regularly and changed trains 3 times on his way here. He'd done his best.

       "Pink Plate Special! Here ya go, hon!" Dishes clattered onto the table. "Everything to your liking?" She pointed to the last two lines of the note and looked at him pointedly.

       "For now...thanks," he said dismissively, like his usual asshole self. He pointed to DID U KNOW?...and shook his head once. Back...forth.

       "All right. I'll be back with a refill in a little while. She ran off again.

       A few minutes later after shoving down a few bites of the generic hash that could have been cardboard, he was so excited, he banged on the table with his knife and yelled in his best asshole voice: Hey! Who made this? Oscar the Grouch!? Because it tastes like fuckin' garbage! There's way too much salt on everything! Are you TRYING to give me a heart disease!? I want another one! Take it back!"

       Debbie's red head popped out of the pick up window like some oversized and extremely ugly red cuckoo bird. "Sure thing hon! But it's Diner policy...if you don't like your food, you have to bring your plate back to the kitchen and pick up your new stuff yourself unless you're disabled or your legs are broke! Your legs ain't broke? Are they?" She sounded hopeful and there was a hint of a promise.

       "No! No, they're not!" he yelled back, now thoroughly amused by this strange cloak and dagger game Debbie was playing.
       "Well thennnn.....Come on back!!" the red bird trilled musically before popping back into the kitchen.

       Obediently, he picked up his plate and headed toward the back of the diner. He tried to ignore the rest of the patrons who had hatred blazing in their eyes but dared not to say anything. Then someone spit into his water glass and threw it into his face. Another one, a burly leather man with a handlebar moustache made a slashing gesture across his throat and pointed at him. The meaning was clear.

       He reached the swinging kitchen door. He knocked at it tentatively.

       "Come and geeeettt iiiiit!!" Debbie trilled.

       He entered cautiously. At first there seemed there was nothing there. Out of nowhere, he was yanked all the way through by his collar. His plate was yanked out of his grip.

       He got it all right. He got that this was no game.

BJBJBJBJBJBJBJBJJBJBJBJBJ

       In a seemingly empty room, there was a flurry of activity. People jumped out of hiding from behind counters and a few out the walk in freezer. They all held some sort of weapon, knives, a meat cleaver.

       Then Brian felt the butt of cold steel press against the exact center of his back. Someone had been hiding behind the door. His blood turned to ice.

       "I'm holding a .38 caliber against the exact center of your back. One shot and it'll take out your spine. You'll be a paraplegic. You'll never walk again unless you do exactly what I say," said a deep cruel voice that Brian could tell was deadly serious. "Bend over the counter and hands behind your head. Make a sound and your dogmeat."

       Brian complied.

       The gun was moved to his neck. "And now you'd be a quad. Don't you fuckin' move!" A small but muscular body moved behind him doggy style and a forearm was placed across his neck further immobilizing him. The gun remained at his neck.

       "Is this where you have your way with me?" Brian asked softly, in amusement.

       "SHUT UP!" the voice shrieked in a stage whisper, a livid, slightly higher voice that was strangely familiar, "JUST....JUST SHUT UP!!!"

       "Cut it out, Whiny!" Red's voice piped up at last as a voice of reason. "There's no need for these theatrics. Let him up!"

       "No way! He might be packin'!"

       There was a sharp "WHAP" as Red slapped "Whiny" across the back of the head. "Do what I say, you little asshole!"

       "Owwww...geez, mawwwwwww!" Whiny whined and then complied.

       "I assure you, I'm not...packin" Brian said in his most dignified voice. He rose and started to turn but was stopped by the gun again. "Don't you fuckin' turn around! Don't you look at me!" Whiny said in his deeper voice.

       Despite his assurances, he was frisked thoroughly. He was amused when the frisker paid special attention to his crotch area.

       "Just what do you think I'd be hiding in there?" he asked in amusement. Whiny didn't answer.

       "He's clean." Whiny sounded disappointed.

       Everyone backed off a bit but remained wary.

       Brian stood and slowly turned to face who he already knew it to be. But he couldn't stop his eyes widening in pleasure and his mouth opening to shout his name in delight.

       The gun went against his chest and a black gloved hand went over his mouth before he could. "Say my name and you're a dead man," said Michael Novotny. His eyes blazed with disgust and hate.

       "All right, all right, my turn now, said a slight man with a wide mouth and a set of big beautiful teeth. He approached Brian with a paddle of some sort, the kind they pass over you at the airport to check for unwanted metal. "Keys, coins, belt, any other metal on the counter please."

       Brian complied. "And who are you?"

       "I'm the Exterminator. I came by to take care of an...infestation." said the man with the beautiful teeth. "Hold your arms out to the sides please. Whiny...keep him covered."

       Brian complied. So did Whiny.

       "You know, I`m really getting tired of that handle!" Whiny whined.

       Everybody in the room smirked and/or tried not to giggle. Michael fumed.

       Starting at the top of his head, the Exterminator, passed the sensor over his body slowly. At his collar there was a BEEP!

       "What the fuck!!?" wondered Brian.

       The Exterminator found what looked like a straight pin stuck through the underside of the back of the collar of his shirt.

       He scanned the collar of his blazer. BEEP! There was one stuck in the collar of his blazer.

       Over the shoulder. Down each arm.

       BEEP! There was something that looked like a cufflink that was not a cufflink on the underside of the wrist on his left hand.

       He scanned down the back. Clean.

       He scanned down the front. BEEP! There was a straight pin bug stuck in his shirt and through the third button down.

       BEEP! There was an extra button on his blazer...a flat metallic lens of a button.

       BEEP! In the front of the waist of his pants.

       BEEP! In the back of the waist of his pants.

       BEEP! His crotch.

       "Oh come on!" Brian yelled in disgust.

       "Sorry," said the Exterminator, not sounding sorry at all. He bent down in front of Brian and undid his pants and unzipped his fly. He carefully scanned the area again and found it...tucked discretely on the inside of the pants under the zipper.

       "Hey, don't enjoy your work too much!" snarled Brian.

       The Exterminator looked up and batted a pair of baby blues (not as blue as Snowshine's though) up at him. "Too late!" he said impishly.

       "D'ooohhhhh!" fumed Brian.

       Slowly and surely, the man ran down Brian's body with the paddle and found:

       One on the waistband of his underwear.

       One on the left leg near the ankle on the inseam.

       One in the fold of the ankle on the right leg.

       One jammed into the rubber of the sole of his right shoe.

       Brian was numb and agog with astonishment. How the HELL had all this stuff gotten on his clothes? What was on his other suits?

       "Look...I swear, I -"

       There was a fearsome click as Michael cocked his gun. He put a leathered finger to his lips and shook his head once...back...forth.

       "Well Red, will you do the honors?" asked the Exterminator, handing her all the devices.

       "My pleasure sweetie!" said Red. She took a dishtowel, dumped all the bugs onto it and then folded the dishtowel in half over top of them. Then, humming an idle tune, she pulled out a meat tenderizer from a drawer and WHAM! BASH! SLAM!...hammered those wicked little devices into bits.  Then she shook the towel into the garbage and they all cheered to see those bits of metal mincemeat clink and tinkle their way into the trash where they belonged.

       "I swear....I didn't know those were there," Brian tried again.

       "We know you didn't, sweetie but we did. We just didn't know there'd be so many of them. Maybe now you understand what we're up against. What YOU'RE up against. Maybe now you'll understand how evil Stockwell really is," said Red.

       "Don't you think I know!!? My God, I hate him! I hate him even more for this! I mean I knew I was under surveillance but this...this is ridiculous! Who knows what is all over my other clothes?"

       "No problem," said the Exterminator, "Anytime you come here, I'll wipe you clean. And now that you are, I can tell you, my real name's Blake."

       "Nice to meet you," said Brian politely.

       "Well...Now that we're done with the love-in...maybe we can get on with it!?" Michael's voice cut across sarcastically, re-elevating the mood in the room from starting to relax to tense again.

       "Mikey, what happened to you?" Brian asked. "Why are you so...so angry with me?" He reached out.

       Michael point the gun straight out. "Stay back! Just...stay the FUCK away from me!" he screamed. He was on the edge.

       "OK, OK!!" Brian backed off. "Jesus, Mikey, what happened to you?"

       "None of your Fuckin' business, that's what happened! I still don't trust you! Who's to say you really hate Stockwell!? If you hate him so much, why are you still working for him?"

       "Because he's making me as much money as I'd normally make in a year," Brian answered reasonably, "And he wouldn't let me quit anyway. I'm at his right hand almost constantly, his most trusted man. He's told me all this private junk and dirty secrets! He'd have me killed off rather than fire me at this point."

       Oh yeah? Like what?"

       "I -I can't tell you," Brian said miserably.

       Oh!? You can't?? Or won't?" Mikey pounced, grabbing Brian's arm and twisting it behind him. His other arm went around Brian's windpipe. Brian was amused. Mikey was wearing an elegant black suit with black shirt and black silk tie and skin tight back gloves and looked every bit the Mafioso. However, he was a little less amused when he struggled and found he couldn't break free. The smaller man was all ropy muscle under there and deceptively strong.

       "C'mon Mikey, leggo! Leggo!" Brian struggled but it was not use. "Wow, you been working out?" he asked, changing tactics.

       "Yeah! And taking 3 kinds of martial arts! So stop struggling or I'll snap your neck and you'll be dead before you hit the floor!"

       "All right, Mike, I think he gets it! You hate him! Nobody's killing anyone here. You're not getting blood all over my clean kitchen floor...Again!"

       "Deb!" cried Brian, aghast. "What the FUCK happened to you all!!?"

       "Ah - ah- ah!!!! Better to stick to code names, Bri. It'll help to become used to it so you can use them easily in an emergency like a little while ago. As to what's happened, Stockwell happened. Prop 14 happened. Six years happened, Brian. Where the FUCK were you? A lot's happened with all of us! Sometime's life's like a soap opera. Miss a day, you miss a lot! And you've missed many a day, Brian Kinney!"

       "Come on, Whiny! Time to take him downstairs to meet Him."

       "Him? Him who?"

       "Move! And shut...the...FUCK...up!" Whiny whispered in fury.

       "Awwww, that's my little enforcer!! You're so cute!" Red gushed, pinching his cheek.

       "Awwwwww....Maaaaaaaaaaa! Cut it out!!" Whiny whined.

BJBJBJBJBJBJBJBJBJBJBJB

       Whiny let him go but kept the gun on him. They guided him to the back of the kitchen and around a corner. At the end of a short hall there was a door with a faceplate on it: OUT OF ORDER. At this point, Red opted to go back and continue serving and deflect anyone coming into the diner looking for Brian. Blake and Michael continued on with Brian.

       The OUT OF ORDER door led to a steep staircase.

       "How can a staircase be out of order?" Brian asked.

       "If I shove you down them, then YOU'LL be out of order! Now shut up and get down there!" Whiny growled.

       Brian obeyed. "Mikey, please! Why are you so angry? Talk to me!"

       "Shut the fuck up!"

       Brian obeyed.

       At the bottom of the stairs was a dingy storage space filled with boxes of supplies, a freezer, books, picture frames, ratty clothes, toys, broken appliances, wire hangers, old ornaments, some broken. Against one wall was a tall ratty looking wardrobe. The whole thing looked like a dumpster had puked.

       Brian was led to the wardrobe. Here Whiny stopped him. He whispered into Brian's ear furiously, his hot breath puffing against it in an almost intimate way, bringing flashes of memory to his mind and tears to his eyes.

       "What you are about to see next....is extremely secret. If you...ever...breathe a word to anyone....especially Him...I will find out! I will hunt you down like a dog, wait till you are asleep, wake you up and watch your eyes widen in realisation before I shoot you between them! Do you understand!?"

       "Michael! Is that necessary?" cried Blake in distress.

       "Shut up! I can do you too, right here!" Michael yelled, swinging the gun around.

       Blake held up his hands and acquiesced.

       Michael turned back to Brian who was now trying his best not to shake in his shoes. " He couldn't understand what had happened but Michael was completely unstable. "Do...you...understand!?" he repeated, with the gun point against the bottom of Brian's chin.

       "Yes. I understand," said Brian. What else was there to say?

       Michael opened the wardrobe and pushed aside some heavy fur coats that were inside. On the back wall there were 4 hooks. Michael took hold of the far left one and twisted it to the left and the to the right. Thunk! It popped out a few inches.

       He took hold of the far right hook. He twisted this one four times around to the right. Thunk! It popped out.

       He took hold of the second hook. He twisted it four times to the right, four times to the left. Thunk!

       Brian was watching curiously. "What are you doing?"

       "Shut up!" yelled Michael. "Does this interest you Brian? Does this fassssss-inate you? Can't wait to memorize this and run back to Stockwell like a good little lapdog! HUH!?? IS THAT IT!? Shut up! Hey, YOU!" he yelled to Blake, "Stop being a sack of NOTHING and stifle him! I changed my mind! I don't trust him! He doesn't need to see everything here!"

       "I'm afraid he's right, Brian." Blake stepped up to him and put his hand over his eyes. "If you don't know, you can't tell. Plausible deniability."

       When Michael was satisfied that Brian couldn't see, he took hold of the third hook and twisted it left, right, twice all the way to the left and four times to the right. Thunk!

       There was a click.

       Michael pushed the back of the wardrobe and the entire back of the wardrobe swung inwards like a door.

       "Move!" snarled Michael, pushing him through. They all followed and when they were through, Blake arranged the coats closed and pushed the secret door closed until there was a "click and four muffled thunks that Brian could only assume were the hooks popping back into place.

       A long rectangular basement room stretched out before them. There were lots of people at long tables and individual desks. Some were answering phones, some were stuffing letters, some were earnestly talking. There were more than a few computers up and running. At the end of the room there was a line of those portable walls set up, the kind that cubicles are made out of. The center one was movable and slid to the side.

       It was too this area that Michael shoved Brian, still holding his arm behind his back in a vice grip. He knocked on the sliding door.

       "We brought him!" Michael barked.

       "Come on in!" said a deep yet pleasant voice.

       Michael slid open the door and shoved Brian through. The makeshift office was rather dark. There was one overhead lightbulb lit and a lamp on a large but simple desk but it was switched off. The man sitting at the desk was shrouded in darkness.

       "Is he clean?" the deep voiced man asked.

       "Yes. But he was bugged with devices all over his clothes. I had to be very careful but I was very thorough," said Blake.

       "Thank-you Blake. All right boys, you may go. Mr Kinney and I are going to chat in private."

       "Uh, Boss! Are you sure that's wise? What if he tries to make a break for it? Maybe I'd better stay and...keep him covered!"

       "Thank you Michael! But that won't be necessary! Mr. Kinney is not a threat to me."

       "But..."

       "Thank you Michael! You've done an excellent job! I want you to help Vixen with whatever she's working on. Now go!" The voice was pleasant but final, filled with a powerful authority that Brian recognized as one that he had used on some of his employees at Kinnetic. It was not to be questioned, only obeyed. Brian shivered a little at the thought that he might be on the receiving end of the faceless man's tone some time. Some time soon.

       Michael grumbled his disp/leasure but obeyed. He slid the door shut and left them alone. Brian let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. It was good not to be a gunpoint anymore.

       "Please have a seat, Mr. Kinney," said the man with the deep voice.

       The only other furniture in the place was a straight-backed chair in front of the desk right above the overhead bulb. Brian sat.

       There was a pause.

       "So, what now?" asked Brian

       "Why are you here, Mr. Kinney?" asked the mystery man.

       "I am looking for the man who drew this," said Brian, taking out his portrait that was folded into squares and tucked inside his breast pocket. It contained a clue to come to Liberty Diner. So I came. I was brought to you."

       "You have proven yourself to be clever and wise to have figured it out so quickly," said the mystery man. "The man you seek is indeed....very close."

       "Justin! Justin's here!? Where? Tell me where!! "If you've hurt him, I swear I'll..."

       "Calm yourself!" The voice never rose but the deep voice's quiet authority silenced Brian instantly. "Calm yourself, Mr. Kinney. The man you seek is perfectly happy and comfortable. He is not our prisoner."

       "Unlike me?" Brian asked, not without a trace of bitterness.

       "Whether you remain here as our prisoner is entirely up to you," the man said sending a fresh batch of shivers down Brian's back. "Do you even know where you are, Mr. Kinney?"

       "No. Well, yes. Sort of. I think."

       "Which is it?" the deep voice sounded amused.

       "Well, I assume we're underground. The basement of the Liberty Diner I guess. There was a secret door. And then...here. But what are you doing here? There's so much activity!"

       "There is indeed. This is the main Headquarters for Stop Prop 14.  Oh there are many cells and branches throughout the city but this is the first one and the main HQ. This is the heart. We are indeed under the Liberty Diner. It is the front, a disguise to hide the entrance to here. And of course it remains a haven for homosexuals who YOU are persecuting, Brian Kinney!"

       "What!? NO!! I'm not! I mean, I'm working for... But I..."

       "You are helping our greatest enemy become mayor! You have stood by and watched him force Deakins out of the race so that he now runs unopposed! You hold all the vital information and secrets that could bring him down! And yet you've done nothing. You helped write Propos..."

       "Hold it right there! No way! I've done a lot of shit in my time but I never helped him with that! All else you say is true. But he came up with that bullshit all on his own! I was disgusted and wanted to puke! I asked him why not just build separate water fountains! And you know what he said? It would cost too much money! The man's a complete fucktard!"

       There was a deadly silence.

       Then: "I believe you Brian. I will inform everyone. I believe this may alter my people's opinion of you...slightly. But you still have much to answer for! Why don't you bring him down with your knowledge? Imagine if he becomes mayor! All of us will be forced underground like this, everywhere! Maybe not quite so literally, but we'll all have to go back into the closet and in hiding. You yourself will be forced into a mold that is...not Brian Kinney! Why don't you tell someone what you know?"

       "Who can I tell? He's King of the cops! All I have is verbal knowledge, nothing documented. Internal Affairs would listen to him over me and he'd lie like a carpet! As you said, he's forced Deakins out with blackmail so there s no opposition to tell. Sure, I could tell the Press! And I'd be dead the next morning! He'd know! These are things he's only told me! Don't you see?  He's bound me to him with all this baggage and there's nothing I can do! And as for my job well, that's all it is, my job! I don't like helping him! And now I'm trapped! My fellow gays hate me. There's nowhere to turn! I'm all alone!"

       "You are not alone, Brian. There is one place to turn. You can tell me what you know. You can tell us."

       "Same difference. He'd know. He'd have me killed"

       "No. We kidnapped you. We interrogated and tortured you and you broke. And then, when things continue to come out after we've sent you away, perhaps we had you bugged. Why not? He did."

       "But you never tortured me. Or bugged me. Did you? Are you going to? Torture me that is! Oh, please don't!"

       "Of course not, Brian. But He doesn't need to know that!"

       "Ohhhhh. I gotcha."

       "So come now, Brian. Tell me."

       "No! First, tell me who you are!"

       "You know who I am, Brian."

       "Well, I know you are the Leader around here. What's your name, I guess I mean?"

       "You know my name."

       "What? No I don't! Who are you!?"

       "We all go by code names around here. I have a select group of trusted advisors, three of which you have already met and know their names. You will meet the others soon, and you know them as well. And you know my name, Brian. After all, you are the one who gave it to me." The pitch of his voice had altered somewhat. It sounded familiar.

       Brian squinted his eyes suspiciously. "Come into the light," he requested softly.

       There was a deep sigh. The chair scraped back. The shrouded man stepped around the desk. He stepped forward.

       His shoes came first. Elegant black loafers.  Next, black pants, black shirt, black tie, coat, almost identical to Michael's but somehow this man pulled it off with more style and elegance.

       His face finally came into view. Brian gasped.

       His hair was elegant, thick and perfectly coiffed into a handsome part to the right. He had a beard that had been trimmed into a small, elegant and pointed goatee.

       But it was the colors that gave him away. His skin was white, stark against the black suit as his blood red lips were stark against his skin. His eyes were the bluest of blue and his hair was the color of freshly fallen snow.

       Before he knew he had even moved Brian found that he had leapt up out of the chair and had taken the man into his arms. He covered him with kissed and then moved in to consume those pert lips with his own in a deep, all-consuming killer kiss.

       "SNOWSHINE!! I missed you so much! OH SNOWSHINE!!!"

       But Snowshine could not answer, could not return the sentiment because for a long time after that there was nothing but kissing, kissing and more kissing.

TBC