Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“I could get to like this,” Dan murmured between kisses, undulating his body as he sank down onto Gary’s shaft again and again, rolling his hips, his own stiff dick bobbing lazily each time he impaled himself.
“Making love?” Gary pulled him down into another leisurely kiss.
When they parted, Dan leaned over him, their foreheads touching as he rocked the lower half of his body. “Morning sex. No having to get up early. Breakfast in bed.”
Gary’s hands were gentle on his back. “Get toast crumbs in the bed and you’re a dead man.” He grabbed Dan around the waist, holding him still while he thrust up, and Dan let out a moan of pleasure.
“Love it when you do that.”
Gary’s eyes sparkled, and Dan found himself on his back, Gary between his legs, easing back into him with a gentleness bordering on exquisite.
Except something had changed.
Gary hooked his arms under Dan’s knees, rolling his ass up off the mattress in the process. Dan knew what that meant. He braced himself for what was coming.
Gary drove into him, long, deep thrusts that nudged his prostate every single time, until he was digging his fingers into Gary’s back, wanting more of him, desperate to feel that glorious warmth inside him.
And when it came, Dan cried out from sheer joy, exulting in the waves of pleasure that rolled over him, crashed into him, leaving him weak and more in love than he’d ever been with anyone his entire life.
Gary covered him with his body, jolts shuddering through him as his orgasm ebbed, until at last he lay still, kissing Dan’s forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips—tender, sweet kisses that lifted Dan to a whole new plane of happiness.
He would have been content to lie there, basking in the glow of their lovemaking, but Gary was a generous lover.
He shifted farther down the bed until his lips were inches from Dan’s still-hard cock.
Dan caught his breath at the first touch of Gary’s mouth on him before he held Gary’s head in place.
He thrust, two, three, four pumps of his hips, and Gary groaned as electricity jolted through Dan, leaving him shaking in its wake.
Nothing beat the experience of holding Gary after they’d made love. Each time only served to reinforce their connection, making it stronger.
He stroked Gary’s hair. “You know what you said to Travers yesterday about following my intuition and your gut feeling?”
“I remember, yes.”
“Well, I was thinking about that. In your own way, you have as much of a gift as I do.”
“Me?”
Dan nodded. “You have the ability to know when something is wrong or doesn’t add up. You can also sense danger.” He kissed the top of Gary’s head. “Your instincts, Mr. Detective, are just as good—and as vital—as mine.”
Gary turned his face up toward Dan’s, and there was such a glow about him that Dan was lost for words.
“Can I ask you something?” Gary said.
“Ask whatever you like.”
Gary stroked Dan’s chest. “Do you ever think what’s going on between us is happening too fast?”
Where did that come from?
“Considering I was dreaming of you for thirteen years, I’d hardly call that fast,” Dan replied. But something had to lie at the root of Gary’s question. “Why do you ask? Do you feel this is happening too fast?”
Gary said nothing for a moment but continued stroking Dan’s damp chest.
“Gary?”
At last Gary rolled onto his side, his head cradled in one hand. “I suppose anyone looking at us from outside would say so. I mean, we didn’t meet until the end of May, and a week later we were in bed.”
Dan smiled. “I love your coyness. Why not say it like it is? We were having sex.”
Gary flushed. “Okay, we were having sex. By late June you’d moved in, and yeah, that sounds fast to me.
But apart from the speed of events, what constantly amazes me is the way it all felt so…
right. I went from being straight to realizing I was actually bi, and that should have been one huge bump in the road.
But it wasn’t, and the only thing I can put that down to is, again, the rightness of it all. ”
Dan looked him in the eye. “You and I were meant to be. If we accept that, everything clicks into place. I’m not saying it’s going to be plain sailing—we still have to grow together as a couple, and that takes time—but if what lies at the heart of our relationship is the knowledge that this is right, then we’ll get there.
” He shrugged. “Wherever it is we’re supposed to be heading to. ”
Gary’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.
“Don’t answer it,” Dan urged him. This was a perfect moment, and he didn’t want to spoil it.
The phone kept buzzing.
Gary sighed. “It’s probably nothing.” He picked it up. “I don’t recognize the number.” He clicked on Answer. “Gary Mitchell.” He stilled. “Yes, Mr. Hutchins, what can I do for you?”
Put it on speaker, Dan mouthed.
Gary did as he suggested.
“I’m sorry to call you on a weekend.”
“That’s okay.” Gary glanced at Dan with a twinkle in his eyes.
Dan smiled. If he’d called ten minutes before, Gary wouldn’t have been so polite.
“You know I said Jonathon didn’t trust tech?” Hutchins continued. “Well, it looks like I’ll have to eat my words. One of our tech boys found something. It seems Jonathon uploaded a recording to the cloud, and I think you need to hear it.”
Gary sat up. “Who was he talking to?”
“Some doctor or other from Harvard.”
Dan arched his eyebrows.
“Would it be Dr. Samantha Phillips?” Gary asked.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
Gary sagged against the headboard. “That’s okay, we know about this. Sherrie Thomas told us about her yesterday. It seems Jonathon spoke to her as part of the research for his piece. I think she was corroborating some of his information on genetics.”
“Well, she might have been, but this is something new. The recording was done very recently.”
Gary stiffened. “How recent?”
“The day before he died. And they weren’t discussing designer babies. Like I said, you need to hear this, and it’s too complicated to share over the phone.”
“We’ll be right there.” Gary disconnected. He launched himself off the bed and hurried into the bathroom.
“You remembered Dr. Phillips very fast,” Dan called out after him. “I’m impressed.”
Gary peered at him around the door. “That’s because I was going to call her anyway.” He looked Dan up and down. “Want to share my shower?”
Dan threw back the sheets. “As long as all we do is wash. I remember what happened the last time you suggested conserving water.”
He’d never met a man who dropped the soap so many times—or had a shower that lasted so long.
Hutchins rose to meet them.
“Thanks for coming in.” He gestured to the chairs. “Take a seat.” He took a drink from his cup. “I’ll be honest, when this turned up, it sent a shiver through me. It was like he was speaking to us from beyond the grave. Not that he’s even in one yet.”
“The fact that he uploaded it… you think that’s significant, don’t you?” Dan asked.
Hutchins nodded. “And once I’d heard it, I was even more sure. But you need to hear it for yourselves.” He moved his mouse over the pad. “I’ve turned the volume right up.”
Gary waited, and suddenly the air was filled with the familiar clinks and noises of a coffee shop. Someone was steaming milk, and the buzz of low voices and the muted hum of passing traffic sounded in the background.
A voice rose above the soundtrack. “And you can put that away. What we’re going to discuss cannot be recorded this time.”
That had to be Dr. Phillips. It was a pleasant enough voice, with the tough undercurrent that Gary thought probably came from expecting others to listen.
“Have you got direct evidence about the clinic?” Jonathon Wilmer sounded younger than his thirty-five years.
The recording paused.
“This is where he’d have turned off his phone and continued recording on a voice recorder, probably in his pocket, but she wouldn’t have known about that,” Hutchins told them. He clicked on the mouse, and Dr. Phillips’s voice filled the quiet office once more.
“Forget about the clinic. Sure, it’s a story in the making, but what I’m about to tell you represents a very clear and present danger.”
Gary glanced at Dan, who regarded him with wide eyes.
What the hell?
There was a pause, followed by the rustle of paper.
Jonathon: What’s this?
Dr. Phillips: It’s a scientific report from 2015 about an outbreak of monkeypox.
Jonathon: I’ve never even heard of monkeypox.
Dr. Phillips: Google it. The source of the infection was a foam party in Fort Lauderdale.
Jonathon: A what party?
Dr. Phillips: You heard right. Foam. From what I’d read, they’re usually for kids.
Then I did some research. Apparently adults like them too.
They pump several feet of foam onto a dance floor or into an inflatable, and people play around in it.
But back to this particular foam party. The CDC were called in.
Jonathon: Okay, so why are you showing me this?
[Pause]
Dr. Phillips: Did it ever strike you as strange that when HIV first appeared, it only seemed to affect gay men? It’s an incredibly fragile virus, so fragile that it’s conceivable HIV was engineered. [Phone rings] I’m sorry, but I have to take this.
Hutchins paused the recording. “When I first heard that, I thought how random it was. And I had to wonder where this was going. She was on the phone for maybe a minute or two. Then they continued.”
Dr. Phillips: So in the past we’ve discussed genetics, the altering of the human genome. How there are genetic sequences for everything—how you walk, think. All from your parents.
Jonathon: [chuckle] My head is still spinning. Biology was never my strongest subject.
Dr. Phillips: One of the topics that cropped up in our conversation was how we’re using gene therapy to eradicate various diseases.
Jonathon: Yeah, I remember.
Dr. Phillips: Have you ever heard of sickle cell anemia?
Jonathon: Yes. That’s the one that disproportionately affects people of Afro-American origin.
Dr. Phillips: No—African origin.
Jonathon: Where are you going with this? Because so far this conversation is about as clear as my coffee.
Dr. Phillips: I’m getting there. Okay. It was postulated years ago that as bioweapons and nerve agents started to be researched, if you wanted to take out a large percentage of people within a conflict area, all you had to do was understand the prevalent ailments and susceptibilities.
So… back to SCA. Let’s consider an African country with a percentage of its population suffering from SCA.
It’s not that great a stretch to design a biological weapon that would disproportionately affect those people.
Hutchins paused the recording once more. “I heard that part, and I have to be honest, my initial reaction was Are you for real?”
“Keep going,” Dan demanded. “I want to hear more of this.”
The recording resumed.
Jonathon: Wait a minute. You’re talking about tailoring a bioweapon to only affect people who have SCA? But that would be despicable. Why would anyone do that?
Dr. Phillips: How do you wage war without risk to the good guys?
An atom bomb? No. But bioweapons provide you with plausible deniability.
Think about WWI. They used mustard gas in the trenches.
Everyone knows that. But do they also know it was deployed when the wind was blowing toward the trenches?
Was this the first recorded use of a targeted weapon?
[Pause] But now, rather than looking at a condition like SCA, we can look at a specific gene. And we can get really creative.
Goose bumps burst into life on Gary’s arms.
Dr. Phillips: Suppose you identified the genes for blond hair, blue eyes.
What can you do with that knowledge? I’ll tell you.
You can design a bioweapon that targets those specific genes, and hey presto, you could wipe out a Scandinavian country.
Suddenly all its inhabitants develop a respiratory disease, something like bronchial pneumonia.
They all die without a single shot fired.
The recording ended.
Gary gaped at Hutchins. “Tell me that’s not the end. There has to be more.”
“There isn’t.”
“You’ve checked?”
Hutchins sighed. “I listened four times to that recording. And yes, I went back to the tech guy and got him to search again. Nada. I have no idea why they stopped talking. Jonathon didn’t add a note.
But once I’d listened to this, I got the feeling I’d heard her voice someplace.
Then it came to me. The day after Jonathon died, I got a phone call.
Some woman who was supposed to meet with him, and of course, he wasn’t picking up his messages.
She got worried and called to ask if he was here, and I was the one who told her he was dead.
” He looked Gary in the eye. “She didn’t give her name, but I’d swear it was Dr. Phillips. ”
Gary’s goose bumps crept over his scalp.
“Could you email me a copy of that recording?” He wanted to listen to it again.
And again.
“Sure. Leave me your address, and I’ll have one of the tech team send it to you.” He frowned. “This whole business gives me the shivers.”
They thanked him, and Gary gave Hutchins a card with his email address.
Dan was silent as they headed for the car.
“You okay?” Gary asked.
“I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did Hutchins.” Gary rubbed his arms.
“So what now?”
That was a no-brainer.
“Monday morning we pay a visit to Dr. Samantha Phillips.”