The Doomsday Conspiracy

Kevin Parker, seated in the visitors’ gallery, glanced at his watch for the third time in the past five minutes. He wondered how much longer the speech was going to last. He was sitting through this only because he was having lunch with the senator, and he needed a favour from him, Kevin Parker enjoyed walking through the corridors of power, hobnobbing with congressmen and senators, dispensing largesse in return for political favours.

He had grown up poor in Eugene, Oregon. His father was an alcoholic who had owned a small lumber yard. An inept businessman, he had turned what should have been a thriving business into a disastrous failure. The young boy had to work from the age of fourteen, and because his mother had run away with another man years earlier, he had no home life at all. He could easily have become a drifter and ended up like his father, but his saving grace was that he was extraordinarily handsome and personable. He had wavy blond hair and fine aristocratic features that he must have inherited from some long-forgotten ancestor. A few affluent townspeople took pity on the boy, giving him jobs, encouragement, and going out of their way to assist him. The wealthiest man in town, Jeb Goodspell, was particularly eager to help Kevin, and gave him a part-time job with one of his companies. A bachelor, Goodspell often invited young Parker to join him for dinner at his home.

“You can be somebody in this life,” Goodspell told him, “but you can’t make it without friends.”

“I know that, sir. And I certainly appreciate your friendship. Working for you is a real life saver.”

“I could do a lot more for you,” Goodspell said. They were seated on the couch in the living room, after dinner. He put his arm around the young boy. “A lot more.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “You have a good body, do you know that?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you ever get lonely?”

He was lonely all the time. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, you don’t have to be lonely anymore.” He stroked the boy’s arm. “I get lonely, too, you know. You need someone to hold you close and comfort you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you ever had any girls?”

“Well, I went with Sue Ellen for a while.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

The boy blushed. “No, sir.”

“How old are you, Kevin?”

“Sixteen, sir.”

“It’s a great age. It’s an age when you should be beginning to start a career.” He studied the boy a moment. “I’ll bet you’d be darn good in politics.”

“Politics? I don’t know anything about that, sir.”

“That’s why you’re going to school, to learn things. And I’m going to help you.”

“Thank you.”

“There are plenty of ways of thanking people,” Goodspell said. He rubbed his hand along the boy’s thigh. “Many ways.” He looked into Parker’s eyes. “You know what I mean?”

“Yes, Jeb.”

That was the beginning.

When Kevin Parker was graduated from Churchill High School, Goodspell sent him to the University of Oregon. The boy studied political science, and Goodspell saw to it that his protege met everybody. They were all impressed with the attractive young man. With his connections, Parker found that he was able to do favours for important people, and to bring people together. Becoming a lobbyist in Washington was a natural step, and Parker was good at the job.

Goodspell had died two years earlier, but Parker had by then acquired a talent and a taste for what his mentor had taught him. He liked to pick up young boys and take them to out-of-the-way hotels where he would not be recognized.

The senator from Utah was finally finishing. “… and I say to you now that we must pass this bill if we want to save what is left of our ecology. At this time, I would like to ask for a roll call vote.”

Thank God, the endless session was almost over. Kevin Parker thought about the evening that lay ahead of him, and he began to get an erection. The night before, he had met a young man at Danny’s “P” Street Station, a well-known gay bar. Unfortunately, the young man had been with a companion. But they had eyed each other during the evening, and before he left, Parker had written a note and slipped it into the young man’s hand. It said simply, “Tomorrow night.” The young man had smiled and nodded.

Kevin Parker was hurriedly getting dressed to go out. He wanted to be at the bar when the boy arrived. The young man was much too attractive, and Parker did not want him picked up by someone else. The front doorbell rang. Damn. Parker opened the door.

A stranger stood there. “Kevin Parker?”

“Yes …”

“My name is Bellamy. I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

Parker said, impatiently, “You’ll have to make an appointment with my secretary. I don’t discuss business outside of office hours.”

“This isn’t exactly business, Mr Parker. It concerns your trip to Switzerland a couple of weeks ago.”

“My trip to Switzerland? What about it?”

“My agency is interested in some of the people you might have met over there.” Robert flashed his false CIA identification.

Kevin Parker studied the man more carefully. What could the CIA want with him? They were so goddamn nosey. Have I covered my ass?

There was no point in antagonizing the man. He smiled. “Come in. I’m late for an appointment, but you said this won’t take more than a minute?”

“No, sir. I believe you took a bus tour out of Zurich?”