This is a work of gay-themed romantic fiction although this Chapter does not contain graphic sex. If you aren't interested in that sort of thing or reading something of this nature is illegal where you are then back out now! Otherwise--enjoy!
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AUTHOR'S NOTES
The first section of this story involving Nils Gustafsen and his troubles has come to an end. Again, a huge "thank you" to Earl Anderson (goranbixo@aol.com) for his (completely unintentional) inspiration for my story. If you are enjoying this and you haven't read his work "Calendar Mystery" you should click over and check it out--once you've finished this chapter of course!
I'm curious to know what you think about my work; love it, hate it--either way I'd like to know. Who do you want to see more of? Who should I kick to the curb? Questions, comments, suggestions and complaints (yes even complaints) are welcome. I WILL respond if you contact me through my primary e-Mail HonableRonable@gmail.com . Drop me a line--please!
CHAPTER 11 -- Storm Clouds Gather
CHARACTERS
Ben Dover, Age 46 -- Part Time Instructor at Kings College
Martin Oberdorf III, Age 20 -student and pain-in-the-ass
Luke Lonnigan, Age 26 -- another student
Dr. Adam Klein, Age 54 -- Chairman, Department of Criminal Justice at Kings College
Jim Burkhalter, Age 21 -conflicted Nazi Poster Boy
Special Agent Ethan Gray, Age 44 -- CIA, Department of Exotic Affairs
Late July brought a blanket of gray clouds and thick oppressive humidity to Kings Harbor. Ben, trapped in an old un-air-conditioned classroom, wiped beads of sweat from his forehead and fought against his baser instincts to avoid calling one of his female students something nasty. She couldn't grasp a basic concept and the big man was starting to get frustrated. "Miss--I'm sorry," he finally said. "Th' book covers this point THOROUGHLY! I've tried explainin' it as best I can but that's not workin'. Maybe someone in class c'n assist...?" The big Texan looked around hoping against hope.
Martin Oberdorf the Third raised his hand. "Could it be that you're just a dumb fuck who has no business teaching at this level?" he suggested with a smarmy smile. "I think that's the answer!"
Ben stuffed murderous urges down. "Thank's f'r sharin' y'r opinion," he said, unable to keep the sarcastic tone from his voice. "Now--care t' take a crack at th' problem smart boy?"
Young Oberdorf read from the text word-for-word but the hapless girl still looked confused. The big man scanned the room and saw Luke Lonnigan's hand raised. Today the former Marine was wearing some barely-there gym shorts and a tank top that showed off quite a bit of tanned, well-muscled chest and arms. The room was too stifling for Ben to feel anything but envy for the young man since he was trapped in a dress shirt and tie. (Professional attire was required at all times for instructors and staff at Kings College.) "Care t' take a crack at it son?"
Luke used different words than Ben, carefully breaking down the concept into small, easily-digested bits but the girl still couldn't comprehend. "Anyone ELSE havin' trouble?" the instructor finally asked. Oberdorf 3.0's hand shot into the air but nobody else raised theirs. "Alrighty then--I'm sorry m' dear--you're just gonna have t' parrot th' book an' hope enlightenment finds ya at some point!"
The girl was hardly satisfied with Ben's suggestion and let him know as much--just as Dr. Adam Klein, Chairman of the Criminal Justice Department came in and made his way to the back of the room. As it happened class was just about to end so Ben gave the homework assignment and dismissed his students. The Doctor, looking wilted by the heat and humidity, came up to where the big Texan was cleaning the white board. "Problems with a student?" he said pleasantly.
"'Faintin' Maiden' isn't grasping a concept th' rest o' the class has mastered," the big man replied. "I think th' textbook is fairly self-explanatory an' I gave it a thorough going-over here in class. So did one o' my best students an' she still doesn't get it!" Ben was careful not to use his favorite colloquialisms with the Doctor. "But I suppose ya aren't here t' chat about m' teachin' style?"
"Actually no," the older man replied. "First of all--calling one of your students `Fainting Maiden' isn't appropriate! That could be considered sexist and shouldn't be done--no matter how difficult the student may be!"
"I won't do it again Sir." Ben kept his tone as polite as his words. "Will there be anythin' else Dr. Klein?"
"Ah-hem--yes..." Now the older man looked distinctly uncomfortable. "We have received--multiple complaints regarding you..."
Ben scowled as he fixed the older man with his one remaining cold blue eye. "Multiple complaints huh?" he said. "Do I get t' hear these complaints an' know th' source `r do I hafta defend myself against shadows?"
Now Dr. Klein looked even more uncomfortable than before. "That's highly irregular..." he mumbled.
"Fine! You c'n find someone else t' babysit these snot-nosed brats. I quit!"
"MR. DOVER!" The Department Chair was in a pickle and he knew it. "Fine! You have two complaints--one from Martin Oberdorf III. He says you are prejudiced against Christians!"
"With all due respect Doc, Oberdorf 3.0 is about as `Christian' as m' brother Cliff!"
"Again--not appropriate Mr. Dover!" Now it was Dr. Klein's turn to get hot under the collar. "We don't impugn our students!"
"We caught th' little shit breakin' into my fucking OFFICE!" Ben thundered. "I don't know what that makes him in th' `hallowed halls of Academia' but in th' Real World' it makes him a fuckin' CRIMINAL!"
"There's no proof..."
Ben cut Dr. Klein off with a snarl. "You saw him with y'r own god-damn EYES!" he growled at the Department Chair. "As f'r that bullshit story he peddled I checked an, guess what? He never fuckin' HAD a class from Dr. Young! Ergo--he had no business in my office!"
"Be that as it may," the Doctor said, trying to get himself under control. "That doesn't answer his assertion of your prejudicial behavior! And considering this conversation I tend to give it weight!"
"Oberdorf's `religion' or lack-thereof means nothin' t' me!" Ben said. "Th' fact that he's a lazy lout who shows up late--when he bothers t' show up at all then doesn't take notes but spends th' whole class playin' with his goddam phone means ever'thin'!" The man rummaged through his briefcase and brought out a test. "I gave this test on Monday," he told Dr. Klein. "Mr. Oberdorf scored a 61%--th' lowest in th' class! His grade was far an' away th' lowest in m' class--if I'd a been gradin' on th' curve he would have FAILED!"
"Look at th' test," the big man went on. "I compiled it usin' several I found in Dr. Young's files! None of these r' essay' questions--just fill in th' blanks `r multiple choice! Tell me, Dr. Klein, how is THIS prejudicial?"
"Well that hardly answers the accusations..."
"Sit in on my class if you must!" Ben snapped at him. "If you determine I'm bein' `prejudicial' then fire my ass!"
"LANGUAGE MISTER DOVER!"
"You ain't heard nothin' yet!" the Texan growled. "Now--shall we address th' next complaint?"
Dr. Klein tried hard to compose himself under the other man's unforgiving glare. "Well--there has been a complaint that you aren't fit to teach at an institution of this caliber! There were--other allegations..."
"From whom?" Ben wanted to know. "And what `other' allegations?"
"I'd rather not say!" the older man quavered.
"Then we're done," the Texan said. He reached into his briefcase and tossed a handful of notes in Klein's general direction. "Have fun teachin' these snot-nosed brats!"
"Mr. Dover!" The Department Chair was bouncing between frustration, anger and the need to keep Ben working (at least until the end of the summer session!) Finally, need won out. "The complainant is Dr. Gretchen Merriwyck! She came forward on behalf of several anonymous sources."
"Who the hell is that?" Ben said. "I've never met th' woman! An' who `r' these anonymous sources?"
"She's in the `Women's Studies' Department," the older man said. "Dr. Merriwyck says she has several sources who wish to remain anonymous."
"Second-hand anonymous' sources?" Ben sneered. "Th' fact that you'll give that serious credence tells me pretty much ever'thin' I need t' know bout this rinky-dink operation!"
"After your `Fainting Maiden' comment..." the Doctor growled. "I don't have a problem thinking you could behave inappropriately in class!"
"I apologized f'r that," Ben said tiredly. "I didn't say that TO her! I said that ABOUT her--OUT of her hearin'! An' lemmie clue ya Doc--if Faintin' Maiden' wants a job in Police work there isn't gonna be a handy Nanny t' wipe her nose an' kiss her boo-boos when someone hurts her little feelin's! The Real World ain't a nice place an' Namby-Pambies git ground up n spit out! This school is doin' those poor kids a disservice if you send `em out with that attitude!"
Klein gave a reluctant nod. "That is true," he said at last. "Part of Dr. Merriwyck's complaint I've already written off; I realize you don't have the academic credentials we usually require but your work experience more than makes up for it! I understand you aren't used to the strictures placed on you by this sort of work environment so I suppose I can look past some of your more--colorful--displays..."
"Since you'll be observin' m' class--y' c'n determine if these anonymous' complaints have merit..." Ben said in a voice that brooked no objection. "I'm fine with that!"
Klein sighed, realizing he'd been out-maneuvered. "Fine," he grumped. "I'll observe BOTH your classes for the next two weeks! I will provide you feedback on your methods and style at the end of that time and determine whether these accusations have merit! Does that satisfy you Mr. Dover?"
"I couldn't ask for more," Ben told him. "Thank ya kindly Doc."
With classes done for the day the Texan looked forward to heading back to Seacliff Manor and a nice long swim in his brother's pool. Instead, he found himself pulling into the parking lot of the Dedrich's Coffee near the college, going inside where he ordered the biggest Iced Chai Latte they had and making his way to the large beach-side patio.
Ben sat there looking at the flat gray sea and the few tourists vainly trying to frolic on the beach while he sipped his Chai and wondered what he was doing here instead of being home where he could get out of his dress clothes and be comfortable. His reverie was interrupted by a pleasant baritone voice. "Excuse me Sir. Um--do you mind if I talk with you?"
The Texan looked up to see a strikingly handsome young man in surfer baggies, tank top and sandals. It took a moment for Ben to recognize the stunning blond youngster as the Nazi Poster Boy he'd encountered on Pride Weekend. "Ya sure ya won't catch m' `gay cooties' ol' Son?" he quipped.
"Pretty sure!" the kid quipped back with a disarming smile. "Do you mind if I sit?" he asked again. "I really need some advice..."
The Texan gave the young man a serious look: he was clearly troubled. "Take a load off Son," he replied. "What's goin' on? An', while we're at it, what's your name boyo?"
"Burkhalter, Sir," he told the older man. "Jim Burkhalter. We met when some--people were trashing Fahrenheit 451..."
Ben nodded. "I remember ya very well..." he told young Burkhalter. "Ya wouldn't help your buddies! Not sure if I sh'd congratulate ya f'r standin' up t' them or wonder why ya hung y'r buddies out t' dry!"
"First of all," Jim said defensively, "they aren't my friends! They're just people my Dad insists I hang out with..."
"I'm listenin'..." The Texan realized he'd had a moment of awen that brought him here. "What's on y'r mind ol' Son?"
"I've been questioning what the Sons of Purity stand for and their motives for a while," Jim admitted. Everything crystalized when I caught my Dad putting something into the punch at one of our Youth Rallies a few months ago!" The next words came out in a rush as if they were desperate to escape his lips. "I asked my Dad what he was doing and he said he was adding sugar but the mix we use is pre-sweetened! I think he was drugging us!"
"Stuff looks like sugar, right?" Ben asked. The handsome blond nodded. "Fuck!" he growled. "Y'r Dad is dosin' you boys with White Lotus!"
Jim looked crestfallen. "I was afraid of that..." he admitted. "Oh God--my Dad and his friends are creating an army of zombies!"
"You're a pretty damn smart kid!" Ben told the young man with genuine admiration. "I trust you've been avoidin' anythin' y'r father gives you?"
"I try," the young man replied. "I've taken a summer job so most of my meals are at different times than the family and I've gotten super-clumsy when my Dad brings me something to drink..."
Ben looked hard at young Burkhalter and his vision both expanded and contracted at the same time; he found his perception growing as he examined young Jim from the outside in. First his clothing seemed to peel away revealing the fine-muscled young body with a long thick cock hanging between nicely blond-furred legs and then the skin seemed to peel away revealing muscle and bone then a few glowing traces of White Lotus. "You've been dosed Son..." Ben told the other man as he pulled his perceptions back to the here-and-now.
"You're sure?"
"Son--I doubt you'd believe me if I toldja how I knew," the older man replied. "But I swear t' ya--I'm tellin' th' truth!"
"I believe you Sir," Jim replied. "The Oberdorfs say you're some kind of Witch like your brother..."
"My brother is a Druid, not a Witch," the Texan told the young man. Not that it makes much difference t' folks like you but Druids `n Witches aren't th' same thing at all!"
"As f'r me," he went on, "it seems Odin gifted me with a form o' True Sight. Sometimes--not always--I c'n see things f'r what they really are! I also have a certain Truth Sense an' a purty damn good Bullshit Detector!"
"I guess that explains why the Sons hate you so much," the blond surfer boy said. "You know them for who and what they are. I'm sorry you're going to Hell though--you seem like a good man..."
"What makes ya think I'm going t' Hell boyo?"
Young Burkhalter seemed taken aback by the question. "You don't follow the One True God!" he finally said.
"Which `One True God' would that be?" Ben wanted to know. "Th' hateful little God y'r Dad taught ya t' worship? Sorry ol' Son--that ain't f'r me!"
"There IS only ONE God!" Jim spat.
"Sure about that are ya?" Ben found he was rather enjoying himself. "What makes ya so certain YOUR version of th' One True God is right an' mine isn't? Defend y'r position boy!"
The handsome blond young man opened his mouth, closed it then opened and shut it again. "I--can't..." he finally admitted. "I just believe..."
"An' there's nothin' wrong with b'lievin' Son!" the big Texan said with a friendly smile. "We just happen t' believe in different things an' there's nothin' that says we can't BOTH be right! You prob'ly don't b'lieve it young Mr. Burkhalter but I'm a Christian m'self. I didn't ask t' be touched by Odin but, f'r whatever reason, he chose to gift me with a certain wisdom! Now all I gotta do is use that gift t' th' best o' m' ability!'
"But you're practicing black magic at the risk of your Immortal Soul!" young Burkhalter protested.
"Prove it."
The handsome surfer boy found himself stuck. "The Bible--"
"Talks about `Spiritual' Gifts!" Ben rode over any further comment. "What makes you so sure my little trick isn't a spiritual gift?"
"Well--I--uh..." Young Burkhalter finally surrendered. "I see why the Sons hate you so much! You can turn anything on its head!"
"Son--you sat down here lookin' f'r some advice," the big man said gently. "Let me give ya some--an' I do hope you'll listen... You KNOW in y'r heart th' Sons of Purity `r' doin' wrong! If they truly b'lieved their own words why would they dose their foot soldiers with White Lotus? This ain't about a Holy War f'r them it's about gainin' temporal power! You KNOW that on some level!"
"What do you want me to do?" the young man asked plaintively.
"Son--I think ya know what th' answer t' that is," Ben told him. "You've got a good head on y'r shoulders an' y'r heart's in th' right place! Follow where they lead!"
Jim stood up shakily. "Thank you for your time--and your advice Mr. Dover," he finally said. "You've given me a lot to think about..."
The next day the clouds were lower, the temperature hotter and the humidity even more oppressive. Ben had agreed to meet Ethan Gray, the man he'd recently begun dating at the Barefoot Bar, a popular beachside hangout for surfers and tourists alike. Ben arrived early and stake out a table on the outside patio. (Like most buildings built before the 1990s the Barefoot Bar didn't have air conditioning and the packed interior was sweltering.) Ben ordered a beer while he waited for Ethan to arrive.
It wasn't long until the lithely-muscled CIA Agent arrived with his face as leaden as the heavy sky outside. He flopped into the chair opposite the Texan like a puppet with cut strings. "Bad day?" Ben asked.
"The worst!" the smaller, brown-haired man replied. "I just got off a call with my Supervisor in DC--I'm being recalled!"
Ethan's words hit the other man like a band-aid being ripped off a hairy arm. "Recalled?" Ben repeated. "How is that possible? You aren't finished with your investigation!"
"It doesn't smell right." The Agent replied. He ran one hand through his short hair, disarraying the carefully-combed waves. "Boss says with the Ojedas out of the way there's no reason for me to stay out here! I told him I had reason to believe the Sons of Purity were involved in the manufacture and distribution of Lotus but he doesn't seem to think there's `sufficient proof' to warrant further investment of Federal resources!"
"I don't know how th' Department of Exotic Affairs works," Ben replied, "but frankly ol' Son, that seems mighty suspicious!"
"Doesn't it though?" the other man agreed. "It gets better..."
"Dare I even ask?"
"I've been instructed NOT to share my suspicions or findings with State or Local Law Enforcement Agencies--and especially not private individuals!"
"An' that's not normal?" Ben asked.
"We have to be cautious about what we share with the Uninitiated," Ethan said, "but we generally have a close relationship with Special Crimes units. I can almost understand them not wanting me to talk to private citizens but not to share this with the Special Crimes Police? It makes no sense!"
"Sounds like one of two possibilities..." Ben wasn't sure he was experiencing a moment of Awen or if it was just his Police training that was kicking in. "Either you're getting' too close to exposin' another investigation `r th' Agency has been compromised!"
Ethan nodded. "I hope it's the first," he said, "but I'm afraid it might be the second. They are sending someone to `escort' me back to Washington--I expect they'll be here before the night's over!"
"Didja do somethin' wrong?" the Texan asked. He was concerned for a variety of reasons.
"I'm so by the book' it's painful!" the Agent replied. "I dotted my I's; I crossed my `t's! I filed every report with meticulous precision! I don't know why they're doing this to me!"
"Maybe they'll explain things to ya when ya git back to DC...?" The Texan was trying to be hopeful but the sense of "wrongness" screamed at the back of his mind. "Keep me informed--please... I'm worried!"
Ethan might have said more but two gray-suited men approached their table. "Agent Gray--you need to come with us now!"
The Agent rose. "I'm so sorry Ben," he said softly while the two individuals hulked nearby. "I didn't want it to end like this! Truly I didn't!" With that the other two men laid rough hands on Ethan and escorted him out of the Barefoot Bar leaving Ben to sit alone in stunned silence as the sky opened up crying thick tears he could not.
END CHAPTER 11