Desperate Enemies 3 (17 page)

“He and his wife gave birth to George Saunders in 1941. Same year I joined the army. I was only 16 at the time. Lied about my age.”

“World War II? But what does that have to—”

“Don't interrupt, sonny. I'm an old man. I'm likely to forget what I was going to say.” Dane sat back, ready to listen. “Point is, Wonderland was founded by two men who were just like you. Just like me, in fact. But back then, folks couldn't handle the idea of two men together. Wasn't acceptable. So Drew and his beau, his lover I guess you'd say, hid their affection like a shameful secret. For cover, they both married women. And look at the result—a lineage of screw-ups. Even George, bless him, wasn't immune. He was. . . one of us, if you get my drift. But he was troubled.”

Gerald Green took a deep sip of his beer. His eyes focused on a point beyond Dane's shoulder, looking back to the past.

He'd only been in the service for a year when he'd been injured in battle. Gunshot to the leg that left him with a limp to this day. A good soldier, he was offered a position back in the States. A place called Wonderland; a quiet neighborhood of Victorian houses sitting high atop a bluff overlooking the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. At the edge of that cliff was a military observation post.

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Dane. “There isn't any military post on Eldon Court.”

“Not now. The war's over.”

Dane motioned for the bartender. He ordered another drink, something stronger, as Gerald Green continued his strange tale.

In 1942, the
SS Coast Trader
, a Navy ship masquerading as a merchant vehicle, was sunk near San Francisco Bay. Another was attacked only a mile from the Oregon coast. Seemed the Japs had a new kind of weapon, the I-26. A small but eminently deadly Type-B class submarine. They were fast, could hit a target from a distance and even carried a tiny float plane that could be launched by catapult from the foredeck for fast escapes. Or efficient invasions. That thought sent shivers through the top brass.

As quietly as possible, the U.S. established observation sites up and down the western seaboard.

“My job was to watch. As much as anyone can. We used Number One Eldon Court as a sort of barracks. Nicest digs I ever saw. Two of us at any one time; one man would watch, the other would sleep. Twenty-four hour surveillance. Should we see anything suspicious, we'd radio down to the port where the Navy sat on constant alert.” Green looked around and whispered, “Want to hear a secret? Even Albert Einstein stayed with us for a short time when he was working on the plans for a new bomb. The
atomic
bomb. Strange fellow. Kept very much to himself in that room at the top of the stairs.”

My video studio
, realized Dane. A cool breeze wafted over the patio making him shiver. The evening was beginning to set in but neither man seemed to notice.

“Anyway, I'm at the lookout one day... sitting as comfortably as anyone can in the hard metal seat of that large periscope, looking down at the water. . . and this family wanders by on a constitutional of the cul-de-sac. A couple pushing a stroller.” Green shrugged. “They introduced themselves as the Saunders. Nathaniel and wife JoAnne. And baby—”

“George.”

Green blushed. “I was eighteen at the time, a kid myself. The Saunders kind of took me under their wing. JoAnne would bring me hot food on cold days. And as he got older, little Georgie would stop by to visit now and again. We'd talk. And watch the water.” The old man smiled. “Those were very good days.”

He explained that when the war eventually ended, he was allowed to purchase Number One Eldon Court from the U.S. military at a discount as a reward for. . . well, an incident that happened. Green smiled wryly, “I was commended for a job well done, let's just say that.”

At age fourteen, George Saunders would visit Green after school and ask if he could do work around the house for a few dollars. Mow the lawn. That sort of stuff. Over time, their friendship grew.

“But the photo. . .”

Green looked away, sadly. “Spring/Winter relationships are an odd thing, Mr. Walters. Often, it's a matter of perspective. You wouldn't think twice about an eighty-six-year-old man marrying a seventy-year-old woman. I was sixteen when Georgie was born. In my thirties when he, as a teenager, helped out around the yard as a good neighbor. Time just flew by. One day, I was thirty five. . . he was nineteen. . .”

Old habits died hard for Gerald Green. Every morning he passed by the former observation site at the edge of the cliff, even though the rusted periscope had long since been removed. But early one winter day, in 1960, as he approached the bluff, wind whipping everything it touched, he spotted a figure. Someone was already standing there, looking down at the water. Dangerously close to the edge. Green sprinted forward and caught the young man, just as it seemed he was about to jump. Shock punched him in the gut as he realized it was Georgie Saunders from across the street. Tears streaked the boy's anguished face. Saunders went limp in his arms, shivering from the cold.

“I brought him back to my place. Made him take a hot shower. Gave him some soup. And then asked what in God's name he thought he was doing.”

“Let me guess,” Dane offered. “His father found out he was gay.”

“No, he was afraid for what would happen IF his father found out. Seems Nathaniel had sentenced an innocent man to prison. All because he was gay. Judge was proud enough to tell his son about it. Told Georgie that all homosexuals should be killed.”

Dane shook his head.

“He—he looked up at me,” Green stammered, “with all the love in the world. And. . . I don't know, I got lost in those eyes. We kissed. Lord help me, we kissed. And we never wanted to stop.”

Gerald led George by the hand to his bedroom. With the glorious morning light spilling onto them, they made love. Nothing wild, just an earnest expression of affection. When Gerry first tried to penetrate George, the young man yelped in pain. Gerry stopped and kissed him, gently running his fingertips along the length of the young man's naked body. George relaxed and, at his own volition, sat atop Green, straddling his hairy torso. Then, he gently lowered himself onto Gerry's cock. It slipped in without discomfort. That emboldened the nineteen-year-old virgin.

Nothing to this point in Gerald Green's life had prepared him for the sensation of George Saunders bucking against him as though riding a bull in a rodeo. Green lasted exactly three minutes before coming, yelling so loud that his voice echoed off the walls of the hallway.

“After that, we were inseparable.” Gerald was lost in thought. “Two years of bliss. It was. . . and probably still is. . . the best time of my life. But it didn't last. Sometime before Georgie's twenty-third birthday, Nathaniel Saunders became suspicious of the time his son was spending over at my house. He decided to investigate.”

“He caught you?”

Green nodded. “Fucking his son over the breakfast table. It was, to say the least, a scene.”

He explained that both he and George were forced to agree never to see one another again. To help distance himself from the pain, Gerry met a young woman in town and married her shortly thereafter. Nathaniel arranged for his son to do the same.

“After that, did you ever—”

The older man shook his head. “No. When I married Cheryl, I made a commitment to her. In front of our friends, our family, and to God. I respected that vow.” He nodded with a bittersweet expression, “And we had a wonderful life, Cheryl and I. Moved down the coast. I loved her. . . maybe differently that I did Georgie but I loved her all the same.” He stopped and looked at his empty glass. “She died of pneumonia seven years ago.”

They spoke a while longer, Dane absorbed in Green's revealing story. It explained so much of the history of Eldon Court, its early flirtation with the gay life when it was forbidden, how it affected those who wished to carry nonjudgmental love to the next generation. Then the bartender approached.

“I'm sorry but we're closing the patio for the evening now.”

They rose. Dane extended his hand to Gerald Green. “Thank you for meeting with me, Gerry. But I'm not sure how this is going to help us.”

Green slapped his forehead. “I almost forgot. See, this is what you get when you let an old man ramble.” He held up two fingers. “Two things, quickly, before you go home. First, I told you all of this for a reason. . .” The reason, it turned out, could be the solution that Dane and Sawyer and all of their neighbors had been looking for.

“And second, I wanted to arrange an exchange.” Dane gave Green a puzzled look. “I'd like my photo back. And in return. . .”

Gerald handed Dane a sheaf of papers.

“I can't understand a word of it. Way over my old head. But someone else might. Albert Einstein left them in the house when they rushed him away one night in secret. Some early notes on a thing he was noodling on.”

Dane read, “Unified field theory?”

“He called it the theory of everything. Told me about it over supper one night. According to him, everything in the universe is connected.”

They walked to the parking lot. Dane promised Green that he'd return the photograph, if it were among his things in the morning. He explained that Sawyer's parents had kicked them out of their house.

“
Michael
Block?”

Dane nodded. “But I'll see what I can do—”

They were suddenly bathed in the headlights of a car parked just near the entrance to the Bayside Hotel. Two men jumped from the car and rushed forward. Green fell down, his bad leg failing him. Dane sidestepped the dark figure coming at him and, for a moment, squared off with his attacker.

Then a silvery streak burst onto the scene. A two-toned horn pierced the air. And Sawyer's Porsche crashed directly into the side of the black Cadillac with a thunderous crash. Dane didn't wait to see what would happen next. He swept his opponent's legs with his foot and, as the man dropped, punched him squarely in the neck. That took the wind out of him.

Vertigo tugged at Sawyer as he forced his door open and moved to help Dane. It was too dark to see the thugs clearly but easy enough to determine who was a friend and who wasn't. Not friendly at all was the guy who turned from the old man and charged at Sawyer from the left. Without thinking, Sawyer positioned himself for a hip throw, a move that until now, he hadn't been able to pull off. This time, he got it right. Sawyer swiveled his hip to meet his attacker and naturally placed his foot on the outside of the man's right shoe. Then he rotated at the waist, grabbing his attacker's wrist. Simple physics did the rest. The man sailed into the air. He collided against the chassis of the mashed-up Porsche.

“Way to go, Saws!”

That signaled the end of the melee. The men in black rose and fled into the night.

Dane checked on Gerald Green, who was sore but otherwise unharmed. That's when he realized—

“Oh shit! They took Einstein's papers!”

Sawyer placed a comforting hand on Green's shoulder. “Sorry about your stuff, Mr. Einstein. But at least you're okay.”

* * * *

Very unusual to have such an early visitor, let alone
any
visitor, thought the caretaker. But he answered the door in his most professional manner and, at the insistence of the guest, showed him in. It took a while to dress Mr. Saunders to receive this stranger, but soon, the servant wheeled him into the small living room.

George was particularly distant today, muttering to himself with a far-off, glazed-over gaze. The caretaker doubted he was even aware of what was happening around him. Cognitive dysfunction, the doctors claimed.

Now, George's eyes wandered randomly around the room, almost avoiding contact with the visitor. But when they did settle on him, his look steely and focused, something miraculous happened. He stopped fidgeting. His gaze focused. And tears welled in his eyes.

Saunders’ hands tightened on the arms of his wheelchair, as though he were about to try and rise on his own accord. Instead, he opened his mouth in a weak smile.

“Gerry?”

* * * *

“YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!?!”

Dane laughed at Paolo's reaction, but begged him to listen. There was one more thing. He moved in closer. “Look. . . Aaron was the best thing we had in our lives, you and I.”

Paolo nodded.

“It's a connection we share. That's why I want to ask: Will you be my best man?”

Paolo's response was capacious to say the least. He spilled his drink in his excitement, momentarily considered cleaning it up, and instead rushed to Dane to hug him.

“Hey, no molesting my fiance!”

Sawyer stood in the hallway, the rest of the neighborhood suddenly appearing, all in tow, a joyous reason for their quickly assembled reunion. Even Parker St. John and his mother were present. It took only five minutes to get everybody settled. Paolo poured bubbly all around.

“Oh, bubbles, this ought to be good,” Rose said.

Finally, Dane and Sawyer stood before their friends.

“So come on,” Marc urged, “What's the news?”

Paolo couldn't contain himself. He jumped up. “They're getting married!”

Everybody responded with surprise and cheer, though Sawyer noticed Marc shoot his lover, Rich, a serious look.

Dane shouted above the din. “Well, that's the plan, and of course you're all invited. But first, we have to get through this mess we're in. And we have an idea on how to achieve that.”

Sawyer picked up from there. “It turns out that Eldon Court has a rich history, dating all the way back to the 1800s.” He motioned around them. “These houses have stood here since then.” As best he could, Sawyer related the history of Wonderland and Eldon Court, just as Dane had told him. The rich early-American roots. And it's military significance. Then Sawyer revealed Green's suggestion: Have Eldon Court declared a national landmark.

“Well, actually, I don't think we'd qualify as a
national
landmark, hon,” Dane corrected. “But possibly a historical California landmark.” The others looked at him blankly, save Jack and Edgar whose faces brightened with realization.