The Definitive Albert J. Sterne (30 page)

“You’re perfectly aware that’s not what I meant.”

Albert took a deep breath. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

COLORADO

NOVEMBER 1984

And I just use you for sex? Is that what you think?
The angry words kept echoing through Fletcher’s mind. He had pushed the issue aside the previous night, selfish in his need for sleep, but it returned to haunt him in the morning.

There was every reason for his defensiveness - he knew he had taken advantage of Albert. In fact, Fletch had long been fascinated by the idea of having sex with Albert, and was now beginning to suspect that he’d simply found the one excuse to proposition the man that Albert couldn’t refuse. And it was an excuse, not a reason, because sex obviously wasn’t even a short term answer to the craziness and the nightmares. Fletch had, however, thought they’d quickly left that behind, that they’d moved from an inauspicious beginning to something worthwhile - but evidently that wasn’t the case. Albert had answered Fletch’s plea for help and assumed that once the immediate need was past, Fletch would turn away from him again.

Fletcher had been able to avoid too much self-recrimination as he showered and shaved and dressed, the routine distracting him somewhat - but now he sat at the table down one end of the long room of his apartment, with only a cup of coffee to occupy him, while Albert cooked breakfast at the other end. Fletch had his back turned to the kitchen, unwilling to look at the man too closely. He hadn’t met Albert’s gaze since they’d woken. Another thing to feel bad about. Instead, he stared sightlessly out of the window, ostensibly at the view of the mountains.

Eventually, of course, they’d have to talk. Fletch put it off until they’d eaten, the silence only broken by Fletch’s compliments on the food. Albert was facing away as well, now that Fletch nerved himself to look at the man. They were both in their FBI suits, as they would each be returning to work that afternoon, which lent the atmosphere a formality Fletch could have done without. Once breakfast was over, Albert brewed another pot of coffee while he washed the dishes, and then came back to the table as if he agreed they should talk. Fletch suspected the man would rather do anything but.

“I’m sorry,” Fletcher said at last, holding the fresh coffee in both hands as if the warmth would give him courage. “We’ve misunderstood each other from the first.”

“I don’t think so,” Albert said distantly.

“All right. You knew what was going on when this started - I  needed you and you agreed to help. But I’m the one who knows what’s happening now - we have a relationship that we both want to continue with.” Silence. It seemed Fletch would have to do all the hard work on this one. But that was fine, because he needed to do whatever it took to be fair to this man. Fletch said, “I  know you love me.”

“Don’t rely on that,” Albert replied in a harsh tone.

But Fletch did rely on it - in fact, it was the only thing he was sure of in the whole mess. Albert Sterne was capable of one fierce and all-consuming loyalty in his life and for some reason, he had chosen Fletcher Ash as its object. “Your love is very precious to me. If I could, I’d  - Well, I’m still on that tightrope, you see, probably always will be, madly juggling everything I have. One of those things is your love for me. It’s a mystery I want to hold onto and get to know but I can’t, I have to keep it circulating with all the other things in my life. You deserve better than that, but you also understand that there’s something else that has to take priority - I have to find this serial killer and bring him to justice. And I need you to help me.”

“Another reason to humor me.”

“You insist on seeing this in the worst possible light, don’t you? Can you really think I’m sleeping with you just so you’ll believe in this man when no one else does, or so I’ll have your expertise available whenever I damned please?”

“Your conversation is becoming littered with swear words.”

Fletcher stared at the man. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I assumed that would be another thing you’d leave behind after you’d done all you could in Oregon.”

“Offends your delicate sensibilities, does it?”

“No. I find it unimaginative but inoffensive. Swearing doesn’t, however, sit easily on you.”

“Don’t try and change the damned subject, Albert.”

The man said distantly, “I wasn’t.” And he took his dark glasses out of his suit pocket and slid them on. It was done with a trace of belligerence, as if daring Fletch to see it as a defensive gesture. “Your latest theory is that your pet serial killer is beginning to lose control, isn’t it?”

Fletcher frowned. “Yes. Maybe. There’s some indication  -”

“I suggest you keep a firmer grip on your own sanity. There are unfortunate parallels between the two of you.”

Predictable reactions coursed through him: shock, resentment, denial, anger. And then Fletcher forced himself to begin considering this, because it would have been a difficult thing for Albert to say and therefore merited particular attention. There was some truth to it, enough for Albert to be worried for him. And Albert had seen the beginning of their relationship as a plea for help from a man fearful for his sanity. So what did Albert see the continuation of their relationship as? A  need for security that hadn’t yet been answered? A  need so strong for Albert’s faith that Fletch would pay for it with sex?

“It would not be wise to continue this relationship,” Albert was saying. “In fact, it would be extremely dangerous.”

Fletcher sighed, shook his head. There was already too much going on in this conversation. Trust Albert to make him feel he couldn’t possibly be across all the issues. “You’re paranoid about the Bureau.”

“You know they fire anyone they suspect is homosexual or who engages in homosexual activity.”

“So how did you get away with it before now?” Fletch retorted - challenging on more than one front, as neither of them had ever dared the issue of Albert’s previous sexual experience.

The man turned to consider him, his expression as much a mask as the dark glasses. “By keeping the encounters anonymous and minimal, and ending them some years ago.”

Fletcher’s curiosity, already interested in this topic, moved into overdrive. But it wasn’t the time to ask for details. Instead he said, “With Hoover gone  -”

“Neither policy nor practice has changed on that particular issue. Unlike you, I  am directly affected by these matters because of my sexual preferences and my Jewish background, so rest assured I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“All right, I accept that. But why would they be interested in us? Why would they even look at us? We’re just two flunkies doing our jobs.”

“You have no idea, obviously.” Albert took a breath, apparently beginning to run out of patience. “On these issues, they are interested in everyone. Anything outside certain parameters - our recent excessive telephone calls, for instance, or the fact that I stay here in your apartment rather than in the Bureau’s hotel room, or your regular visits to my home in Washington - anything of that nature attracts attention. Caroline Thornton might not give it a second thought and may even be sympathetic. Jefferson is too dim to notice. However, someone will pick up on these things at some stage, and the Bureau has the means to investigate and discover the truth.”

“You make it sound so oppressive.”

“Good. You’re seeing sense at last. Add all that to the fact that, as I’ve warned you before, they’ve always been interested in you. When they recruited you, I  believe they thought you were either perfect for the job of special agent or one of their bigger mistakes. For a number of years, your performance was safely acceptable, neither unsatisfactory nor excellent, and you caused no problems, but your obsession with this serial killer is drawing their attention again.”

“Damn it, that’s simply me trying to do my job,” Fletcher protested.

“It proves my case - if against all the odds you’re right, then you’re perfect. If on the other hand you’re wrong, then you’re a liability they don’t need.”

Fletch fumed over this for a moment. “Well, I’ll stake my career on this man, I  have no problem with that. I  guess I always knew that was the bottom line. But I’m willing to risk continuing with you, as well.”

“You said yourself that bringing the killer to justice has to take priority over your relationship with me. It doesn’t seem logical to continue this until you’ve met your first priority.”

“I’ll risk it,” was all Fletcher would say. Though he suspected Albert would not want to cope with a lover guilt-ridden over losing his job and therefore his only legal way to catch this man; Albert would not approve of the vigilante Fletcher knew he’d have to become. The last two months of craziness had been bad enough.

“I have seen evidence of covert surveillance on other employees. Staff who were fired, with no possibility of finding other work with the federal government, or transferred to the field office in Alaska, or quietly resigning for personal reasons.”

Fletch let out a breath. “You’ve made your point. Besides,” he said whimsically, “I’d love to live in Alaska.”

“I wouldn’t. In any case, we would be further separated and you couldn’t continue your crusade.”

“Albert, I understand what you’re saying. I  agree I need to keep this job, definitely while I’m working on this specific case, and hopefully after that until I retire. I  need to catch this man and I want to remain a special agent. But I also want to continue with you and I can’t decide to call the relationship off simply because of the chance I’ll lose my job. I’m willing to be careful, but it’s not a fear I can know in my heart. I’m not cold-blooded enough to end it with you for what feels like a remote possibility.”

“You’re being illogical and foolish.”

“And so are you, because you won’t end it with me, either.”

Albert glared at him. “Don’t rely on that.”

“But I do rely on it, Albert. I’ll be careful, but not unreasonable. If we can’t make love in the privacy of our own homes, then there’s a lot wrong in the world, and I don’t want to play along with it.”

“Now you’re being willfully blind to the reality of the situation. You know the sort of technology they have access to, you’ve no doubt used it yourself. There is no longer such a thing as the privacy of our own homes.”

“We’ve been staying with each other for well over a year now and in all that time before we became lovers, you never once worried about this. What’s different now?”

“We now have something to hide.”

“But they don’t know that! Maybe they’ve already bugged us, seen there was nothing to worry about, and moved on. Maybe they accept that two of their more unusual employees, two outsiders like us, can be
friends
.”

“They would know there’s something to hide just by looking at your phone records over the past eleven weeks.”

“The calls can be explained by my paranoia about the serial killer.”

“You’re ambitious, remember?”

“Yes - to be a special agent, to handle the important cases, to do some good in the world. And to spend some quality time with you.”

Albert took a moment to swallow something back. “Thank you so much for tacking that on the end,” he said eventually, too cold for the sarcasm to hurt.

“Look, you’re right about the level of technology they can use - we’re not safe sitting here talking, we wouldn’t be safe talking even moving around outside. So as long as we try to avoid drawing their attention, there’s little else to do except live every moment of our lives as if the Director of the FBI was standing right beside us. And I’m not prepared to do that and I don’t think you are, either.” There was a silence, which seemed to indicate Albert had run out of arguments. “Can I visit next weekend?” Fletch asked.

“No,” Albert said heavily, “you can’t. I  will need to catch up with a great deal of work. And I believe we should limit our time together.”

“Reasonable limits,” Fletch countered. “The weekend after?”

Albert seemed defeated, utterly weary. “Is this so easy for you?” he asked in a quiet tone of voice Fletcher had never heard before. But, without waiting for an answer, he agreed, “The following weekend.”

They sat in silence for a while, not looking at each other. “I’m sorry,” Fletch said again. “For all of this.”

“Are you? Do you think I’d change it if I could?”

“Actually, I think you would,” Fletch said as flatly as he felt. “You’re obstinate enough.” He stood, walked behind Albert, put his arms around him. The embrace was not welcome. “But, since you can’t, I’ll continue to take advantage.”