The Definitive Albert J. Sterne (49 page)

“That is of no consequence. If you wish to end the call, then say so directly.”

“Yes, it’s getting late. I’m exhausted.” He eased off the bench and checked on his second load of washing; it was about to enter the spin cycle.

“Consider one thing, Ash, for your own sake. Think about the consequences of letting this killer remain free. No one else will catch him for you.”

“I’ll think about it, Albert, that’s all I’m promising.”

“You’re uncomfortable with the part of you that understands the serial killer  -”

“You don’t believe in that.”

“But
you
do. If you turn away from it, if you ignore or suppress that part of you, then that will have a far worse effect on you in the long term. If you live with it and use it for good, that will be healthier than if you shut it away and let it fester.”

Strange for Albert to be that smart about Fletcher, but be unable to apply the principle to himself. “I’ll think about it,” Fletch repeated, frowning.

“I’ll let you know when I’m due to arrive.”

Fletcher sighed, prevented himself from groaning. “I  was serious about needing a little time, Albert. If I agree to do this, can we make it next weekend or the weekend after, instead of this one? Let me mull a few things over, all right?”

“Procrastination, Ash?”

“Give me a break, will you? You never know, I  might come around to your way of thinking.”

“All right,” was the brusque reply.

“I’ll call you soon, love. And thanks for spending half the night talking. I  appreciate it.”

“Do you,” Albert said flatly.

“Yes. Goodnight, love.” And Fletch hung up, knowing it was pointless to wait for a farewell from Albert. He had just enough energy to throw his washing into the drier with the first lot before climbing the stairs to his apartment and his bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

COLORADO

APRIL 1985

“Xavier,” Fletch murmured into the dimness of the bedroom.

The man stirred, tugging the sheets out of the way as he moved to take Fletcher into his arms, grinning beautifully. “What, lover man? You want to talk some more? Or fuck some more?”

“Both, of course,” Fletch said with a laugh. “But this time I was thinking of talking. If you don’t mind missing a little more sleep.”

“What would I need sleep for? We’re on the last leg of the campaign, the election’s in three days.” Lazy puzzlement. The pause was filled by slow exploration of Fletcher’s face with Xavier’s, in a skin-to-skin kiss. “Did I apologize for not being able to see you this week? Other than tonight, of course.”

“You did, very graciously. I  understand you have other priorities.”

“You’ve been more than understanding, sweet lover man. More fair than smart.”

“No - what did you call me before? More honest than smart. They’re going to carve that on my tombstone.”

“You don’t have to think about epitaphs and eulogies yet, Fletcher. Plenty of life left in you.” Xavier leaned closer to kiss him on the mouth, a nice unhurried loving kiss. When they were done, Xavier settled himself comfortably beside Fletch, facing him, an arm companionable around his waist. “Now, what did you want to talk about? I’ll tell you, it’s rare for me to find someone who enjoys conversing as much as I do. Though these last couple of weeks have taken their toll.” It was true: the rich brocade voice had grown noticeably hoarser, which added a not unattractive rough note.

Fletcher let a silence grow, doubting again how he should approach this. But he had always tackled personal matters head on, and this should ideally be no different. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” he began. “I’m due for a change - I 
need
a massive change in my life. I’ve been trying to look into the future, trying to work out what I want to do. Every aspect of my life - work, relationships - is troubled right now.”

A pause, into which Xavier said, “Go on.”

“Well, in the middle of all this hard thinking, I  had a day dream. I  have a dream,” Fletcher quoted whimsically.

“What’s your dream?”

“I don’t know if it’s even possible, but I was day dreaming about you being mayor and me staying around. On a long term basis. As your lover.”

“Were you, sugar man?” Xavier murmured, smiling lazily. “That’s nice. So tempting to imagine such a delightful thing.” Then the smile quirked. “Do you always propose to your lovers so soon in a relationship?”

“Soon? We’ve been together for over two weeks now. That’s almost a record for me. I’m so good at falling in love with the most impossible women, sometimes we don’t last through the first date. The number of desserts I’ve missed out on is tragic.”

Xavier laughed. “You’re one of a kind, Fletcher.”

“Let me tell you about this day dream, lover, and then I’ll let you think it over in peace.” Fletcher took a breath and continued, “There’s no way we could keep it secret, which is as it should be, so I’d have to leave the FBI, which I’m not overly sad about because the Bureau and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. I thought I could work for you instead, as political staff or a personal assistant or whatever. If you can’t pay me at first, I’ll volunteer. I have some money that would last a while.”

“Maybe you could do that, maybe that is possible. There’s certainly work you could do, or learn, and a smart guy like you could wing it in the meantime.” A pause for reflection. “We might be able to present you as my long term lover, my partner, package it nicely. You’re so cute, that helps, with your lovely cream skin and thick dark hair and those beautiful hot blue eyes. I  bet the camera loves you. A  fine upstanding honest intelligent gay ex-FBI agent, forced to resign his noble career in order to openly be with his lover. Oh yes, the queer black and the straight-as-an-arrow white liberal romantic, in love and unashamed of it  … Beautiful copy. We’ll appeal to people across so many demographics, it’s ridiculous. And you’ll make a suitable First Lady if ever there was one.”

“You make it sound prettier than I’d expected. Do we get to live happy ever after as well?”

“I doubt it, lover man, other than in the media releases - but we can try.” A pause before Lachance warned, “You’d have to give up your man.”

That hurt like a blow to the stomach, even though Fletcher had half expected it, half prepared for it. “I  know.”

“
Can
you give him up?” Xavier pursued.

“Like you said, I’d have to.” Though the prospect of leaving Albert behind was far bleaker than the idea of turning his back on the Bureau. And Albert wouldn’t even believe Fletcher’s heart was breaking, too. “But he and I could remain friends.”

“I don’t think so, lover man. If he values his job, and if you value your reputation as my faithful partner, then you’ll never see him again.”

Worst case scenario, damn it.
“I  take your point.”

“If you can do that, and if you’ll do one other thing for me, this day dream might translate into reality.”

“What one other thing?”

“I’d like to take you on, Fletcher, but I’d need a serious commitment from you. I need you to burn your bridges and tie yourself to my bandwagon. Because I can’t afford to be seen as fickle. If we do this, then it’s a political marriage, based on convenience as well as romance, and we can’t divorce.”

Fletcher frowned at the wording, though he’d anticipated the intent behind it. “What would you want me to do?” he asked again.

“One favor, while you’re still with the Bureau. I need information on a certain entrepreneur. I  took a rather generous campaign donation from him and, once I’m in, he’ll expect me to give him the go-ahead for some pretty risky land development. I  want something to hold over him, to cancel the favor.”

“You don’t want the land developed?”

Xavier shrugged. “I’ll probably give him the go-ahead anyway, but then he’ll owe me again.”

“Why do you want him to owe you?”

“You understand this already, Special Agent. He’s the one with the money, and therefore the power. I  need him aligned to me.”

“Aren’t you the one who’s going to be in power?”

“Yeah, I’ll have my share of it, but the reality is that he has a bigger share and he’s here for the long haul.”

Fletcher moved to lie on his back, and he stared at the ceiling, mind numb except for one thought:
Albert, you bastard, why did you have to be right?
He said lightly, “You really want me to do that, Xavier?”

“Sure, lover man, if you want to deal into this game.”

“And you think I’m the sort of person who could do it?”

“Yeah. You’re honest but you believe in the same things I do, as passionately as I do. And we both know that the ends justify the means.”

“Do we?” Fletch whispered to the distant ceiling.

“You’re an idealist, sweet man, but you have to come down from that ivory tower to actually do anything about your dreams and principles. You’ve learned that already - you work with the FBI, for Christ’s sake.”

“Again, I take your point.” Because that was, in another person’s words, a fair summary of why he’d fallen out of love with the Bureau. Fletcher shifted uncomfortably, and sat up cross-legged.

Xavier, turning to lie on his front but leaning up on his elbows to talk to Fletcher face to face, continued, “Revolution from within. Taking the system and then using it to progress what you believe in. That’s the only feasible way.”

“But if the process of
taking
the power corrupts you, then you disqualify yourself from holding it. You can’t ever be clean again.”

“But if you don’t take the power, then the next bastard will - and I’ll lay bets he’ll be a right wing, reactionary, homophobic racist.”

“Sexist, too,” Fletch added faintly.

“Within this system, Fletcher, I’m the best you’ll get. And I’m more than good enough for you to accept - no, for you to be happy about.”

“You’re dangerous, Xavier.”

“How so?”

“You’re too damned seductive for my peace of mind. Quit talking for a moment.” He held his hand up, palm out, mind racing. “The central issue is ends and means. You really care about certain ends, you passionately care - and you’ll do anything it takes to reach those ends. But I disagree with that approach, I  entirely disagree with it. I  think you blight any good you achieve, you undermine any success, you sow the seeds of failure, if your means are suspect.” Fletcher paused, then said, “The peripheral issue is that part of me wants to believe in you, to be seduced by your rhetoric, because our ends, our goals happen to coincide. But if I wouldn’t approve of your means and tactics in the hands of a right wing reactionary, then I can’t in all conscience approve of you.”

“Ah, lover man, so serious,” Xavier murmured with some regret. “Why did I seduce the one FBI agent with morals?”

Ignoring that last sortie, Fletcher said, “Yes, I  am serious. I  fear you, and I fear for you. And that makes me so damned sad because you’re a wonderful person, so smart, and working to such an admirable agenda. But you’re flawed.”

“You’re talking of complicated problems, and expecting simple answers.”

“Simplicity is unrealistic, is it?”

“Yes, sweet man.” Xavier leaned a little closer. “Are you still going to vote for me?”

The unexpectedness of that winded Fletcher. “All political debate comes down to that, does it?”

A broad smile. “Are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know that I want to vote for anyone right now.”

“You don’t have enough nerve, Fletcher; you just need that extra nerve to go that extra distance. You’re building barricades for yourself that needn’t be there.”

“Maybe I have too many doubts about too many things. If I’m sure of something, I’ll do what I have to do, within the rules - I  respect the fact that society is nothing without limits - but there are so few things I’m sure of.”

“That’s not true. You know what’s right and you judge people accordingly.”

Fletcher grinned without humor. “I envy your certainty, your commitment to your beliefs. At the same time, it scares me - do you ever stop to question yourself?”

“Do you ever stop questioning yourself, and take action?” Xavier shook his head. “You think too much, Fletcher. It un-mans you.”