and maybe even tape recordings and videos. He hoped to become a legend within the agency by busting the largest ring of homosexuals in the history of the armed forces.
But he had to hurry. American society degenerated more each day. Soon the new president would allow gays to serve openly. Starting tonight, Jay would use tougher and smarter tactics than the NIS had ever used to get rid of the homosexuals.
If Ed lived near the dance club as he’d said, their two-car convoy should be nearing his house. Jay had recognized Ed from his afternoon’s surveillance in the park with Ollie. He had the opening he needed when Ed’s friends left him alone at WC’s. Initially, Ed’s stoicism had been a hurdle but the Sailor was outmatched. Over the years, Jay had learned how to harness his charm and apply the right touch at the best time to win over the hardest-hearted men.
Although Ed was more disciplined than most, the Sailor had inevitably dropped his guard, revealing too much. Only a Sailor would’ve gone to Florida—boot camp in Orlando—then Virginia—many Navy bases there—and finally to Europe on a Mediterranean float. Ed’s use of the word “tour” and his recurring moves to San Diego were also giveaways. Outside the club, Jay tried to glimpse Ed’s DoD sticker but he’d shielded it. Regardless, tonight’s progress with his networking plan was satisfactory.
Jay wasn’t familiar with San Diego’s neighborhoods. “Washington Street to Park Boulevard.” From there they’d driven down two smaller side streets. Ed turned into the driveway of a small and quaint bungalow-style house. Jay parked by the curb and hurried across the street, following Ed to his front door. “Looks like a nice place, Ed. You live here alone?” An enlisted person couldn’t afford a house in San Diego. Jay hoped Ed was an officer.
“Yes,” Ed said curtly.
Jay feared he’d crossed a line by asking Ed a question that was too personal. He looked around, quickly trying to think of something generic to say. Fortunately, a bright porch light gave him the chance. “You’ve got an amazing green thumb. Or your gardener earns his pay.”
Ed brightened. “Thanks. My yard is my therapy. More productive and cheaper than a shrink or a gardener.” He opened the door. “Come on in, Stephen. Can I get you a diet soda? It’s a mystery to me why you physically fit types stick to diet drinks.”
“No thanks.” Jay studied the room. “I’ll be up all night from caffeine or pissing or both.” As he’d suspected, Ed’s house was immaculate and the smell was a combination of pine-scented cleaner, lemon furniture polish and a citrus potpourri. No hint of a dog.
Ed laughed. “Suit yourself. Have a seat on the sofa. Back in a sec—have to look after the dog, let him know I didn’t abandon him.”
“I don’t mind if you let the dog in.”
Ed disappeared through a doorway into the kitchen. “He gets crazy around strangers.”
A door opened and shut. Jay heard Ed’s muffled conversation with his pet in the backyard. “Hey there, boy! Ya’ miss me?” Jay took advantage of his host’s absence to look at his personal items. Photograph albums were stacked on shelves next to books like the kind seen in lawyers’ offices. Framed pictures covered the walls displaying a large number of men in decent shape with military-style haircuts.
“Jackpot,” Jay muttered. Ed’s house was a gold mine of information. Many photographs showed Ed with the same man. One shot of the couple was at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. In the earlier photographs, Ed and his partner stood in front of landmarks like the Eiffel Tower and Buckingham Palace and they looked young and happy. The group photographs were at beaches, in bars or at parties. In the later photographs, Ed’s partner was in poor health. If pictures were worth a thousand words, these walls spoke volumes about Ed’s life. The story they told, and Ed’s living alone, gave Jay the impression Ed’s lover had died of AIDS.
Despite Jay’s beliefs about homosexuality, he empathized with tragedy. His prior work had connected him with men who’d endured this awful disease. Even though Jay always used condoms when his work required him to have sex with men, he still took anonymous HIV tests every six months. His sense of duty, though, outweighed his sympathy. Their immorality corrupted the soul, and his emotions couldn’t become entangled in their humanity or he’d lose sight of his mission.
Although the photographs were eye-catching, they weren’t the best evidence in the room. A desk occupied the far corner. On top, under Ed’s sunglasses, was a small notebook. On closer inspection, Jay realized he’d hit the mother lode. He became mesmerized as he thumbed through the pages. Ed’s address book contained hundreds of entries listing names, ranks and addresses in military towns and bases around the world. Ed had updated many of them in pencil, increasing the information’s accuracy and value as evidence. Telling gay from straight was impossible based on the entry alone but the odds were high that a significant percentage would be gay military men and women.
Jay wondered what else Ed might possess. The desk’s top drawer contained useless bill stubs and receipts. He closed it and opened the second drawer. Suddenly he froze. “Holy—!” He was shocked to see a dull black Beretta 9-millimeter pistol, the kind the military used, with an ammunition magazine in its handgrip. The only way Jay could tell if the magazine held any bullets was to pick it up and visually inspect its chamber.
As Jay reached for the gun, the kitchen door slammed. He shut the drawer and slung the address book across the desk. As he stepped across the room to sit on the high-backed sofa, something hit the wooden floor but he didn’t have time to see what it was. Ed entered the room. “The dog’s fine and he still loves me. You can meet him next time. He’s too unpredictable around people at first. This late he might wake the—”
Jay’s heart pumped at a dangerous rate. He’d let himself get carried away. He cursed himself for failing to pay attention to Ed’s location and to how long he’d been gone. “My grandma’s dachshund was the same way.” Ed had stopped mid-sentence. Jay followed his host’s gaze across the room.
Ed’s demeanor changed. Before, he’d been cautiously friendly but now he was tense and rigid and he moved deliberately across the room. He raised his eyes from the floor, looking directly at Jay. “Stephen—or whatever your name really is—”
Jay braced himself against the back of the sofa. His mind searched for an explanation for why Ed’s address book was open. Too late, he realized his major mistake.
“I never told you my dog was a dachshund.” Ed stepped toward the desk. “Why are my sunglasses on the floor? Why is my address book open? How did you know—?”
“The pictures,” Jay blurted. “I was admiring your—your photographs—and—the dog is in—” Although Jay couldn’t recall if he’d seen a dog in any photographs, the gay men he’d known in DC took pictures of their dogs like parents took pictures of their children.
Ed’s anger grew more severe with each word. “There are no pictures of a dog!” he shouted. “We never had a dog. My partner was allergic to animals. I rescued a dog from a shelter because I wanted the company. Believe me, whoever the fuck you are—I haven’t taken a picture since way before the dog came along!”
Jay remained silent as both his body and his mind froze. Usually he operated at his best under pressure but this situation stupefied him.
“So—Stephen. I’m asking you again. How did you know that my dog, which you haven’t seen—is a dachshund? And why are my sunglasses—which were on top of my address book—on the floor?”
Jay continued to draw a blank and the only thing he knew to do now was leave. “Maybe—maybe I should—” He reached down to zip up his jacket, but the zipper became stuck and he tugged on it. Terror overcame him as Ed’s hand inched downward. When Ed opened the desk’s second drawer, Jay blacked out.
“Fuckin’ A, dude. Pound my hole! Shove that big cock up my ass! Shoot your load! I want all your cum inside me, man!”
Don laughed as he grabbed the remote to lower the volume. His bedroom television