The Doomsday Conspiracy

So that’s what this is all about. That flying saucer business. It had been the goddamnedest thing he had ever seen. “You want to know about the UFO, don’t you? Well, I want to tell you, it was a weird experience.”

“It must have been, but, frankly, we at the Agency don’t believe in flying saucers. I’m here to find out what you can tell me about your fellow passengers on the bus.”

Parker was taken aback. “Oh. Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. They were all strangers.”

“I understand that, Mr Parker,” Robert said patiently, “but you must remember something about them.”

Parker shrugged. “Well, a few things … I remember exchanging a few words with an Englishman who took our pictures.”

Leslie Mothershed. “Who else?”

“Oh, yes. I talked a little to a Russian girl. She seemed very pleasant. I think she said she was a librarian somewhere.”

Olga Romanchanko. “That’s excellent. Can you think of anyone else, Mr Parker?”

“No, I guess that’s about … oh, there were two other men. One was an American, a Texan.”

Dan Wayne. “And the other one?”

“He was a Hungarian. He owned a carnival or circus or something like that in Hungary.” He remembered. “It was a carnival.”

“Are you sure about that, Mr Parker?”

“Oh, yes. He was telling me some stories about the carnival business. He was certainly excited seeing that UFO. I think if he could have, he would have put it in his carnival as a sideshow. I must admit, it was a pretty awesome sight. I would have reported it, but I can’t afford to get mixed up with all the weirdos who claim they saw flying saucers.”

“Did he happen to mention his name?”

“Yes, but it was one of these unpronounceable foreign names. I’m afraid I don’t remember it.”

“Do you remember anything else about him?”

“Only that he was in a hurry to get back to his carnival.” He glanced at his watch. “Is there anything else I can do for you? I’m running a little late.”

“No, thank you, Mr Parker. You’ve been very helpful.”

“My pleasure.” He flashed Robert a beautiful smile. “You must drop by my office and see me sometime. We’ll have a nice chat.”

“I’ll do that.”

So it’s nearly over, Robert thought. They can take my job and shove it. It’s time to pick up the pieces of my life and start over.

Robert placed a call to General Hilliard. “I’ve just about wrapped it up, General. I found Kevin Parker. He’s a lobbyist in Washington, DC. I’m on my way to check out the last passenger.”

“I’m very pleased,” General Hilliard said. “You’ve done an excellent job, Commander. Get back to me as quickly as you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

FLASH MESSAGE

TOP SECRET ULTRA

NSA TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR CIA

EYES ONLY

COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES

SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY

9. KEVIN PARKER – WASHINGTON, DC

END OF MESSAGE

When Kevin Parker arrived at Danny’s “P” Street Station, he found it even more crowded than it had been the evening before. The older men were dressed in conservative suits, while most of the younger men were in Levis, blazers and boots. There were a few who looked out of place, in black leather outfits, and Parker thought that this element was disgusting. Rough trade was dangerous, and he had never gone in for that sort of bizarre behaviour. Discretion, that had always been his motto. Discretion. The handsome young boy was not there yet, but Parker had not expected him to be. He would make his entrance later, beautiful and fresh, when the others in the bar would be tired and sweaty. Kevin Parker walked up to the bar, ordered a drink and looked around. Television sets on the walls were playing MTV stations. Danny’s was an S and M – stand and model – bar. The younger men would assume poses that made them appear as attractive as possible, while the older men – the buyers – would look them over and make their selections. The S and M bars were the classiest. There were never any fights in them, for most of the customers had capped teeth, and they could not afford to chance having them knocked out.

Kevin Parker noticed that many of the patrons had already selected their partners. He listened to the familiar conversations going on around him. It fascinated him that the conversations were always the same, whether they took place in leather bars, dance bars, video bars or underground clubs that changed their locations every week. There was an indigenous argot.

“That queen is nobody. She thinks she’s Miss Thing …”

“He went off on me for no reason. He gets so terribly upset. Talk about sensitive …”

“Are you a top or a bottom?”

“A top. I have to give the orders, girl.” Snapping his fingers.

“Good. I like taking them …”

“He read me for filth … Just stood there criticizing me … my weight, my complexion, my attitude. I said ‘Mary, it’s over between us’. But it hurt. That’s why I’m here tonight … trying to forget him. Could I have another drink …?”

At one a.m., the young boy walked in. He looked around, saw Parker and walked over to him. The boy was even more beautiful than Parker had remembered.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening. Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s all right. I didn’t mind waiting.”

The young man took out a cigarette and waited while the older man lit it for him.