The Doomsday Conspiracy by Sidney Sheldon

“I’m very pleased,” General Hilliard said. “You’ve done an excellent job, Commander. Get back to me as quickly as you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

FLASH MESSAGE

TOP SECRET ULTRA

NSA TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR CIA

EYES ONLY

COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES

SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY

9. KEVIN PARKER—WASHINGTON, D.C.

END OF MESSAGE

When Kevin Parker arrived at Danny’s P Street Station, he found it even more crowded than it had been the evening before. The older men were dressed in conservative suits, while most of the younger men were in Levi’s, blazers, and boots. There were a few who looked out of place, in black-leather outfits, and Parker thought that that element was disgusting. Rough trade was dangerous, and he had never gone in for that sort of bizarre behavior. Discretion, that had always been his motto. Discretion. The handsome young boy was not there yet, but Parker had not expected him to be. He would make his entrance later, beautiful and fresh, when the others in the bar would be tired and sweaty. Kevin Parker walked up to the bar, ordered a drink, and looked around. Television sets on the walls were playing the MTV station. Danny’s was an S-and-M—stand and model—bar. The younger men would assume poses that made them appear as attractive as possible, while the older men—the buyers—would look them over and make their selections. The S-and-M bars were the classiest. There were never any fights in them, for most of the customers had capped teeth, and they could not afford to chance having them knocked out.

Kevin Parker noticed that many of the patrons had already selected their partners. He listened to the familiar conversations going on around him. It fascinated him that the conversations were always the same, whether they took place in leather bars, dance bars, video bars, or underground clubs that changed their locations every week. There was an indigenous argot. “That queen is nobody. She thinks she’s Miss Thing…” “He went off on me for no reason. He gets so terribly upset. Talk about sensitive…”

“Are you a top or a bottom?”

“A top. I have to give the orders, girl,” snapping his fingers.

“Good. I like taking them…”

“He read me for filth…Just stood there criticizing me…my weight, my complexion, my attitude. I said, ‘Mary, it’s over between us.’ But it hurt. That’s why I’m here tonight…trying to forget him. Could I have another drink?…”

At one A.M., the young boy walked in. He looked around, saw Parker, and walked over to him. The boy was even more beautiful than Parker had remembered.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening. Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s all right. I didn’t mind waiting.”

The young man took out a cigarette and waited while the older man lit it for him.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Parker said.

“Have you?”

The boy’s eyelashes were incredible.

“Yes. Can I buy you a drink?”

“If it will make you happy.”

Parker smiled. “Are you interested in making me happy?”

The boy looked him in the eyes and said softly, “I think so.”

“I saw the man you were here with last night. He’s wrong for you.”

“And you’re right for me?”

“I could be. Why don’t we find out? Would you like to go for a little walk?”

“Sounds good.”

Parker felt a tingle of excitement. “I know a cozy place where we can be alone.”

“Fine. I’ll skip the drink.”

As they started toward the front door, it suddenly opened and two large young men entered the bar. They stepped in front of the boy, blocking his way. “There you are, you sonofabitch. Where’s the money you owe me?”

The young man looked up at him, bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you be—”

“Don’t give me that shit.” The man grabbed him by the shoulder and started marching him out to the street.

Parker stood there, furious. He was tempted to interfere, but he could not afford to get involved in anything that might turn into a scandal. He stayed where he was, watching the boy disappear into the night.

The second man smiled at Kevin Parker sympathetically. “You should choose your company more carefully. He’s bad news.”

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