Eff Del

Young But Daily Growin'

Chapters 20-22

Chapter 20

We'll get to the State Finals and experience a horror

For some reason we are taught to eschew pride and view it as a sin. Why should honest pride be avoided when often it is our only reward for accomplishment? There is no great evil in such a simple and honest pleasure.

There is no wrongness involved in finding gratification over having achieved something difficult or having performed some deed particularly well.The harm is when the pride takes precedence over the accomplishment and we exaggerate our worth and hold our achievements in excessive esteem.

If we forget the source of all that we are, then our pride is false and malignant. Of all of mankind's faults, heaven disdains hubris most of all.

The display alcove I'd designed and had constructed for Sean's trophies, ribbons and medals was complete. Though smaller than the room my father had used to display the awards Kyle and I had earned, it complimented that space very well and flowed naturally as you walked down the hall giving the appearance of having been part of the original design.

I was resting a hand on Sean's shoulder as I showed it to him. In one competitive swimming season he had already accumulated an impressive collection of medals and several trophies. With his considerable talents I was certain many more awards and honors would follow.

Higher up on the back wall was the hardware for the shelf that I intended to have installed later.This would be the shelf that I secretly hoped would hold the State All-Around Swimming Championship trophy identical to the one Kyle had earned.

That particular trophy, recently broken, had just been returned from the repair shop and was sitting-good as new-on its shelf in the large trophy room Kyle and I had dubbed 'Father's Alter'. When it had been delivered and inspected Sean was noticeably relieved. With my assistance I had allowed him to climb the step stool place it back onto its shelf.

"So this room is just for my stuff?" Sean asked as he looked around.

"You bet, little man. This is the 'Samurai Sean Room' from now on."

He smiled up at me and said, "So even after I go back to the nest, some of me is gonna always be here huh? That's neat Eric."

I felt an uncomfortable pang.How long? How long are you going to string him on? How long before you tell him? How long before he knows that he's never going back to that vile place? I heard a voice inside me ask fervently.

Soon I thought.

Soon… when he's learned that he is not a part of that ugly life… when he's learned he is not owned or controlled by that evil culture; that it's not his destiny… when he's learned his true value… when I've taught him that he is so very loved and that he can love in return with no prerequisites or limitations. I'm trying so hard to make the right decision… so hard to find the path that is right for both of us… it will be soon… I promise.

His voice summoned me away me from my private conflict, "What's THAT doing on the wall?" he asked pointing to the wooden paddle hanging above one of the glass cases.

I'd had the date of the horrible spanking neatly painted on the flat blade; 'March 15' and below it the Latin 'numquam'… never again. It had been several days after the fact that I'd recognized the date for what it was. Like Caesar of old, someone should have warned Sean and me to beware the 'Ides of March'.

"That hangs there as a memento just between you and me and it will always hang there as a symbol and reminder of pride and shame. It is representative of something terrible and hopeful. It belongs here just as much as all of your other ribbons, medals and trophies." I squeezed his shoulder and he leaned into me resting his head against my side.

***

The week before the State Championship was upon us and the entire county was going crazy with excitement. Every storefront was festooned with some type of 'Seven Swimming Samurai' poster or banner.

The boys' pictures were in all of the newspapers every day and none of them could walk anyplace in town without being surrounded by well-wishers. They had become a local phenomenon.

All seven of them handled their new celebrity like typical 11-12 year old boys hence they were puffed up and insufferable. Even Martha had felt the need to cut our own little rooster down a peg or two on several occasions.

That Monday, all of the involved adults had gathered in the big meeting room at the Club House and went over logistics. The meet was, of course, being held at the large Sports Complex in the state capital which was about a five hour drive from us.

It was decided to rent two charter buses to carry staff, family and club officials up to the meet. Any remaining seats would be sold at cost to 'fans' who wished to accompany them up for the event and cheer the boys on. I volunteered my jet to fly the boys, Coach Riorden and his two assistants up so that the boys would not be fatigued by a long drive. This offer was enthusiastically accepted and so, Thursday night, the solarium had been turned into a campground once again.

The excitement was so palpable that the air actually felt thick with it. The walls of the mansion rang with the raucous enthusiasm of seven little boys who were charged to the breaking point with excitement and so full of themselves that they were borderline annoying.

Jokes, laughter, brags and taunts flew around and across the big table in the dining room as they wolfed down multiple plates full of Martha's roast beef, mashed potatoes and carrots. All of them, but Rico and Sean, looked skeptically at the grilled asparagus until Sean solemnly swore that it was 'the best thing you ever ate'. I just rolled my eyes to the ceiling and tried to eat my meal in peace. It's getting deep in here I thought.

As apple pie ala 'mode was being served, I stood up and called for their attention. "Listen up guys!" I had to shout before seven little faces looked up at me with remarkably serious expressions.

"Now, I know you're excited and jazzed about this whole thing, but tomorrow is going to be a busy day for you all. We leave for the airport very early. It'll be about a one hour flight, then we've got to get checked into your dorm at the sports complex and I know Coach is planning a short but important practice session."

They looked at each other and began a chattering and animated exchange that quickly grew in volume. "Listen guys!" I had to force their attention again. "Here's what I suggest. If you want, you can play in the pool for an hour… nothing strenuous and no horsing around."

"Can we be naked again?" I didn't catch which one actually asked the question but they were all enthusiastically indicating that was their mutual hope.

"I don't see why not, but remember… same rules as last time and just one hour… then its showers and sleeping bags… strict lights out by 9:00 OK?" The 'lights out' part went over like the famous lead balloon and negotiations and counter offers began flying around the table. I finally yielded to pressure and extended the time to 9:30.

"OK then scoot on down to the pool; your time is a wasting," I said and they were up before I'd finished speaking. They lined up in the kitchen for Martha's hugs and the room echoed with "Thank you Mrs. Edwards," repeated in some form or another seven times.

I dashed upstairs to get into my trunks and then headed downstairs to the pool.

They were waiting by the diving board naked and beautiful, long, lithe legs prancing restlessly and small perfect ass muscles flexing as they moved, arms folded across their chests to warm them from the air that swirled moist and cool around the pool area.

They were surrounding little Mike who was waving them away in obvious embarrassment. "Lookit Mr. T… Mikey must like us a lot!" called out a grinning Rico. "See, he gots a boner!" They all laughed hysterically while pointing at the slender boy who was trying to cover his obviously erect little three or four inch [8-10 cm] penis while the others kept pulling his hands away. He was blushing from embarrassment but giggling at the same time.

Finally, he could stand it no more and he raced to the side of the pool and plunged in. He broke the surface and shook his dirty blond hair out of his eyes grinning broadly. "Better than you Rico," he taunted from the water "Your dick is so small that nobody can tell when you got a hardon or not!"

Amid jeers and hoots, Rico dived in and took off swimming after Mike until he'd caught the smaller boy and dunked him dramatically. The remaining five boys found this entire exchange wonderfully amusing and they were all laughing and exchanging jibes as they collectively jumped into the pool.

Once again I found myself sitting on a chair with a raging hard dick struggling against the confines of my swim trunks as I watched the seven naked little beauties frolic in the water. I declined several earnest and emotionally delivered pleas that I come into the water and toss them around insisting I didn't want any monkeyshines tonight.

I still had to intervene and tone down their enthusiastic interactions three or four times before their allotted hour was up and I sent them hustling off to the locker room to rinse off. I watched as seven of the cutest little asses in the world jiggled their way into the showers.

***

"OK guys, there's a half-an-hour before lights out and I've got a special treat for you. Sean's teacher; Professor Swaim, is going to tell you all a story. Why don't you pull your sleeping bags over here and form a semi-circle?"

The Professor had been sitting off to the side and he now stood up and walked to the top of the grouping of sleeping bags as the boys shifted position so that they were each facing him sitting on their bags with legs crossed. Not all of the boys had ever seen the Professor before and none of them knew him personally. I had overheard Sean confiding to his friends that his teacher was 'really a wizard' on several occasions and so, that reputation coupled with his formidable size commanded the instant attention of the entire group.

I'd lowered the room lights to a faint orange glow almost simulating a dying campfire and I settled myself down to listen. I had to fight off the temptation to make my way into the group and sit next to Sean. I knew full well how inappropriate that would be but I tingled with anticipation knowing the pleasure these boys were about to experience and I wished I could share it with him closely… touching him in some way.

Doc Swaim was, in my opinion at least, the greatest story teller in the entire world. I could still remember vividly the very first time a 13-year-old me had sat cross legged in front of a fireplace enthralled as he wove one of his tales. Closing my eyes now, I could almost feel my father's strong arms wrapped around me as we sat together and listened while the big man filled the room with magic and fantasy. I was thrilled even now by this fantastic treat.

In the dim light he stood slightly hunched over the already rapt boys. He was almost cloaked in darkness so that his large form was a haunting transformation of light and shadow that shifted and played across him as he moved.

His powerful voice rumbled like a thunder clap across the room, "Listen!… Listen my heroes and learn the story that comes from the far gold and iron clad past when the courage of kings was constant and champions rose from among the ranks of men to test their mettle in battle against the darkness and the EVIL…"

I felt a chill run up my spine. He was going to tell one of my very favorites; the tale of Kynan Meradec and his battles with the stone ravens and the giant; Cewri. I was 13-years-old again and I was spell bound.

He told his story in carefully measured cadence and his voice made subtle changes to become the different characters as well as the raging forces of nature and magic. His arms circled dramatically and his hands drew phantom pictures of action and emotion pulling in the captured attention and imagination of his listeners and weaving them mystically into the experience and very fabric of the telling.

This was better than any television… better than any movie ever made. It must have been just like this thousands of years ago in the dark stone halls at the beginning of history. This was how mankind was entertained and how he learned about the world around him through a story-teller with the shadows battling the dancing firelight for dominant places on the hard cold walls. This was basic, primitive and wonderful.

I don't think one of the boys even moved a muscle through the entire tale and their eyes never left him for even a second. Their little mouths hung open in wonder. "And there is ever more to tell … but not this night. Sleep well my heroes and rise refreshed and brave… steeled for new battle." He ended the story and abruptly became just a man again. I heard seven little gasps as the boys took in gulps of air… they had almost forgotten to breathe.

The murmurs of awe and approval flew between them and I knew that they would each dream exciting dreams tonight as, in their imaginations, they themselves became champions in the service of King Macsen Wledig and had their own adventure.

"OK guys… you all know where the bathroom is so goodnight. We've got an early morning," I said and I led a smiling Doctor Swaim down the hall to the library for a couple of night caps.

***

"You certainly haven't lost your touch Doc!," I shook my head admiringly as I handed him his Jack and water. "Now you're really going to have a hard time convincing Sean that you're not a Wizard."

He cocked a bushy eyebrow at me and replied, "And when did you decide that I'm not?" he smiled almost wickedly.

I looked at him for a second and then grinned. "I'm not sure that I actually have."

We both laughed.

After walking the Professor to the back door I strolled down the hall to make certain things were peaceful in the 'campground' before I headed up to bed. Once again I heard the muffled moans and squeals. The sounds of little boy curiosity and pleasure, as I approached the door. This time however, my wicked angel took control and I stepped inside the room hidden by the shadows and looked in upon their shared erotic experimentation.

They had broken up into two couples and one grouping of three. I was fascinated by what I saw.

Buddy and Matty were kneeling facing each other knees touching and they had reached across and were each stroking the others erect dick. Their movements were long and slow and were made in perfect unison. Their mutual gratification was evident by the smiles that were obvious even in the dim light.

To my astonishment, Sean and Rico were lying together in a classic 69 position and each was enthusiastically sucking on the others cock. Even from my hiding place I could hear their tiny squeaks of pleasure. I watched as their little hands explored each other with quick genuine passion as they mouthed and suckled the others hard little rod.

Bulldog and Mike were lying stretched out side by side and kneeling between them little Charlie had a hard little dick in each hand. He was stroking them together while the two supine boys writhed in pleasure. Mike had his hand on Charlie's stiffy but seemed to be having a hard time concentrating on his task because he was so immersed in his own delight.

"Faster Charlie, pump me faster." Bulldog moaned and the smaller boy murmured, "What about me? Nobody's doing nothing to make me feel good."

"Aw Charlie… one of us will do you just as soon as we cum. Come on."

"Kay," said the little boy as he increased the pace of his dual strokes.

Feeling very much like an intruder and a dirty old voyeur (which I suppose I was), I slipped out into the hall with a smile on my face. Obviously a lot more than just showering has been going on in the locker room after team practice.

In my bedroom, I slipped out of my trunks and tee shirt and did what I needed to do to calm the raging beast between my legs. Relieved of that tension, I turned off the light and fell asleep at once. My dreams were outrageous but very pleasant.

***

It was still an hour before sunrise when I entered the solarium to raise the sleeping boys. They were lying heaped together… a tangle of little arms and legs. Soft sweet snores filled the air. I put two fingers to my lips and let fly a shrill loud whistle. I was very good at doing this. My skill had delighted Kyle to no end when he was little.

Seven tousled haired heads shot up and peered at me with bleary, heavy-lidded eyes. Amid mumbles and grumbles they extricated themselves from their collective heap and rubbing sleepy eyes they began to search out discarded underwear. Being totally without guile, it never occurred to them that I might be wondering why they had all been sleeping together and naked.

I noted with unspoken amusement that each of them sported a stiff little cock as they shuffled off to the bathroom. Suddenly one of them… I don't know who, cut a loud fart and they were all reduced to gales of laughter. I just shook my head. Our momentous day had begun.

Lovely young Jenny had breakfast duty that morning though I wasn't certain the poor little thing had any idea what she'd gotten herself into with seven hungry and excited boys sitting around the table.

She'd done wonderfully. With the help of two staff members working as servers, milk, juice, cereal, toast, scrambled eggs and fresh fruit were quickly placed in front of the little warriors and all was just as quickly consumed.

Poor Martha relieved, of kitchen duties while she got herself ready to leave for the airport with us, was looking lost and perplexed because she wasn't allowed to prepare any food for the flight and, for that matter, she wouldn't be cooking any meals until Monday. With nothing to do, she looked totally lost. Fortunately, Walter also noticed her distress and kindly found her a series of little tasks to perform until it was time to leave.

John had brought the mini-bus I'd had him rent up to the front door and was supervising the loading of baggage. The professor had pulled 'Shadowfax' his white Land Rover, around front and Walter was packing his and Martha's things into the back. We were going to be a small caravan going to the airport and we still had Clay Riorden and his two assistants meeting us there.

I was in the dining room trying vainly to supervise an orderly breakfast but the seven boys were beyond managing any sense of calmness. They were little rowdies talking and bragging about the upcoming championship contests. "We are soooo gonna win!" exclaimed Matty to the raucous agreement of the bunch.

"Yeah! We're gonna win this thing!" Rico agreed through a mouthful of eggs.

"No!" It was Sean who said this and he stood up from his chair and with a solemn straight face, arms crossed upon his chest as he said, "We don't win. Only the Farmers win." There was dead silence at the table and we all stared at him.

"What the heck are you talkin' about Sean?" asked Matty.

Sean spread his arms like a mystic. Slowly he looked up and a grin spread across his face. The little shit had just perfectly paraphrased the last line from The Magnificent Seven. I couldn't hold back my laughter. As soon as the other boys realized what he'd done, he was assaulted with hoots and laughter and, if there had been any hidden tension among them, it was now gone.

"OK boys… saddle up it's time to ride!" I said and with, whoops and wisecracks, we shuffled them out the door and into the waiting bus.

For Matty, Bulldog and Charlie this was going to be their first flight and for the others except, of course, for Sean, it would be their first time in a private jet. Yesterday I'd phoned Captain Lucas and had alerted him to these facts and I knew he'd make the flight as special as possible for the boys.

***

As we pulled onto the tarmac of the airport I noticed that Clay Riorden and the other two coaches were already standing by the jet. I opened my window and leaned out and urged them to go on and get into the plane. We piled out of the bus and the Professor, Walter and Martha climbed out of Shadowfax as staff emptied both vehicles of luggage and loaded them onto a waiting cart.

Doc Swaim and Walter helped Martha up the stairs and into the jet while John and I herded the boys toward the plane.

Captain Lucas was waiting at the door to greet us.

"Good Morning Mr. Tucker, good morning John and hello again Sean," He smiled down at the six other boys who stood looking very subdued and impressed. "And you are the rest of the famous 'Seven Samurai' I expect." The boys beamed with pleasure at this unexpected recognition. The pilot shook each of their hands and they exchanged individual greetings.

"Welcome aboard. It's a real treat to have you as passengers today. If you'll all find a seat and get buckled in we'll be taking off momentarily; we've already got clearance. Once we're in the air, if you'd like, I'll bring you up front two-at-a-time and show you the cockpit."

This was naturally met with enthusiastic accord and my pilot smiled.

"Oh, and Sean," he said placing a hand on my boy's shoulder, "if you have time, maybe later you can come up front and handle the plane while I have my snack?" He arched an eyebrow in a conspiratorial manner.

The other six boys looked at Sean in awe. "Handle the plane?" Rico asked.

Obviously pleased but trying hard to look casual and cool Sean muttered, "Sometimes, Captain Lucas lets me fly the plane a while."

He wasn't very good at fibbing but it wasn't really a lie either. The truth was that the Captain HAD allowed him to handle the controls on his first flight… the one that seemed so very long ago.

We moved back into the cabin to find seats. I made it a point to have Charlie sit with me and Sean while John sat between Bulldog and Matty just in case their first take-off made them nervous. True to his word, Captain Lucas was taxiing the jet to the head of the runway in just moments.

As the engine roared building up power for thrust, Sean leaned across my body and smiled at Charlie who had become rigid and very white. I took the little guy's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "This is the best part," I told him with a smile. Across the aisle I noticed that John had the hands of both his boys and was quietly speaking to them.

In a rush and a roar, the jet raced down the runway. In moments the nose was up and the gear rotated. The labored roaring of the engines died down to a normal sound and we had leveled off.

"Wow!" exclaimed a wide-eyed Charlie and a large smile quickly adorned his little face.

"I told ya it was so neat!" responded Sean.

"Why don't you two share the window?" I said to Sean as I unbuckled and got up so that he could move over and sit next to his friend.

***

I'd arraigned to have two attendants on this flight and they were soon out into the cabin taking drink orders. One of them looked familiar to me but I couldn't place him until Sean, smiling widely, greeted him, "Hi Barry!"

"Hi Sean! Good to see you again."

It was the same young man who'd been our flight attendant when I'd brought Sean home from the nest.

I walked back to check on the other boys and Martha. I noticed that she was already sipping on a glass of chardonnay so I knew she was all right.

The boys were all migrating to seats near each other so that they could share the adventure together. I motioned to John, Walter and the Doc to follow me to the back of the plane. Along the way we collected Clay and his two assistants; Tim and Wayne.

We settled into the oval lounge seating at the rear of the cabin and I signaled Barry over. "Whiskey for my men and beer for my horses!" I told him and he looked at me confused.

"Barry," I told him with a smile. "This is a short flight; we've all got some serious drinking to do and very little time to do it." We were soon sipping on our individual preference of adult beverage and discussing everything from sports to politics. We even found time to talk about the upcoming swim meet.

True to his word, Captain Lucas came back into the cockpit and escorted the boys in groups of two up front. When the third pair of smiling, enthusiastic boys had been returned to the back, he asked Sean to come up front with him. My little boy got up and followed the pilot with a big smile.

When they returned about fifteen minutes later, Capt. Lucas made a point of speaking loudly to Sean, "Thanks for the help, Sean, and for your usual good job up there."

Grinning Sean replied, "You're welcome Captain. Any time".

It was obvious to me that my pilot had been conspiring with Sean and they'd come to an agreement that, while stretching the truth wasn't exactly fibbing either… if his friends wanted to believe he flies the plane… oh well.

Because of some problem at the airport up ahead, the flight was slightly delayed and took about a half an hour longer than expected.

After a smooth landing, Barry and his partner, as well as Captain Lucas, were waiting by the door as we de-planed. "Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure having you aboard. I'll see you all on Sunday for the flight home. In the meantime, swim well and make us proud."

Almost in unison seven little voices piped, "Thanks Captain. We will!"

***

I'd arraigned to have two vans waiting for us. John drove one and Clay Riorden, since he knew exactly where we were going, drove the other taking the lead. The State Sports Complex was new… just over a year old and this was my first time visiting it. I was very impressed as we were given a brief tour after Coach had registered his team and staff.

In a separate building there were dormitories for each team with a common rec room for the boys and a large cafeteria on the ground floor. Coach Riorden and his assistants would stay in separate rooms on the upper floor of the building, reserved so that coaches could be near their teams and yet have some isolation and peace and quiet.

My entourage and I had rooms reserved at the Capital Inn near the complex and so we bid the boys good bye until tomorrow as we wouldn't be allowed to eat with them or watch their practice today. The fact was, we were persona-non-grata until competition time tomorrow.

It tugged at my heart to leave Sean behind but, if the truth be told, I think he was so excited and pumped up that he didn't have time to miss me at all. I was pleased to discover that he wasn't too proud or too 'grown up' to give me a hug and a big kiss before I left. My hand lingered on his shoulder and I gave it a tight squeeze before walking away with a lump in my throat.

***

We five met for dinner at the hotel restaurant which turned out to be much more than adequate. The food was actually quite good and the conversation much more than pleasant. It's funny how people who more or less live together or, at the very least, work closely together present different personae in a casual, relaxed environment.

After the meal, Martha bid us all a good night stating she wanted to read a bit and get to sleep early. We guys headed for the bar.

The big screen television was showing a Red Sox/ Orioles game but it was too early in the season for me to be interested. Not really having a 'dog in the hunt' as they say, I didn't usually get interested in Major League baseball until well after the All-Star Game when things were beginning to really shape up for the mad dash to the series.

The real entertainment of the evening was provided by Doc and Walter going toe to toe swapping dirty jokes. John and I laughed until we could hardly breathe. I tried twice to contribute a joke of my own but I was way out of my league with those two and so, I was very content to settle back and be part of the audience.

About an hour into this however, John spotted two ladies across the lounge sitting in a booth by themselves. He excused himself and sidled over while the three of us watched from across the room.

In less than twenty minutes and just one round of drinks, he was headed for the elevator with a very cute blonde on his arm. As he guided her into the elevator he turned to us, smiled and flipped us a mock salute just as the doors slid shut.

"I was young like that once" sighed the Professor.

"Yeah sure. Back when everybody rode horses and the world was still flat," snorted Walter as he signaled our waitress for another round. We drank a lot that night but not so much that I was afraid we'd be impaired in the morning.

Later, I lay alone in my bed thinking about how so much of what was happening in my life was feeling like a family thing. How strange, I thought. All these people that I love actually work for me and yet the reality was they were my friends first and employees a very distant second. Except for John they'd been part of the household since I was a kid and John was the stray that followed me home that my father had let me keep.

And then there's Sean,, my alcohol buzzed brain mused, technically, he works for me too… So why was I laying here alone feeling like a father who'd just sent his only son off to boarding school?

I shook my head to clear it. This was all getting confusing.

Smiling I thought that all I knew for certain was that somewhere in this hotel John was getting laid and I was in a strange bed jerking off. I laughed hysterically. So much for the perks of being one of the richest men in the world!

***

Sean was so excited he couldn't stand still but then, he never could stand still. Today was just worse. "Eric, wait'll you see how BIG the pool is! It's gigantic!"

I smiled and hugged him tightly to me as I affectionately rubbed his shoulders."Sean, that pool is no bigger than any other pool you've ever swum in. It's EXACTLY the same size as our pool at home, 50 meters long, 10 lanes wide just like ours would be if we divided it into lanes. What's big is the arena that surrounds it. That's gigantic, but Sean, you don't have to race in the seats, you race in the pool and there's nothing new about that for you. Forget about the size of the stadium just race your races like you always do."

He nodded his head and smiled a big 'Sean smile'.

There would be no heats run today. Only qualified contenders were here. There were ten lanes and only ten contestants in each race. Every time the horn sounded, it was for the medals… serious stuff.

The events started at 11:30. From 9:30 to 10:00 was time for the Press. All contestants and coaches were gathered in the pool area for photographs and interviews.

There was a great deal of interest in our boys because of the unusual success of the entire team and each of the boys was subject to serious reporters' attention.

There came a lull in the activity as one by one the ten teams mounted the big stage for group photos.

I was standing off to the side with Sean when a tall thin man in a brown sport coat approached with a note pad and pencil in hand. "This is the famous swimming Sean of the Samurai Club is it?" he asked in a sniveling high pitched voice.

I disliked him instinctively and thought to myself that he couldn't be much of a reporter if he didn't even bother to get the nicknames correct. "Can I help you?" I asked, placing myself between him and the boy.

"Ah yes, Dwight Freshette of the Swimmers Monthly. A few questions if I might?" he waved a laminated card quickly under my nose and it at least looked like a genuine white, red and green Press pass. I was a bit angry and I was curt with him which was out of character for me.

"How can we be of assistance Mr. Freshette? We've got our team photo coming up so this will have to be quick I'm afraid." He smiled a simpering smile and I noted that his teeth were unpleasantly yellow.

"Yes, well of course this young man is of particular interest because of his outstanding personal success thus far and then, of course, there is the unsubstantiated rumor that until recently he was in residence at the Nesswell-Turnbridge Academy for Boys and of course, there have always been rumors… also unsubstantiated of course, regarding THAT establishment and so I was wondering if 'Swimming Sean' could provide any enlightenment in that…"

I interrupted him at once. "Sean is my legal ward and I am his guardian. He lives and is home schooled at my residence. You know my name and you know my reputation. You know where we live though, frankly, you would never be allowed near the place. We have no information to share regarding an Academy or any other institution. If you have questions about his education, I refer you to Doctor David Swaim who is Sean's private tutor and who, I'm most CERTAIN, you've heard of. Now if you'll excuse us Mr.… Freshette was it?"

He nodded still smiling his creepy yellow smile and I pulled Sean away from him.

***

The first events were the 50 meter events and the first of these was the breast stroke.

Buddy was on his block in lane 9. We were all sitting at the other side of the pool so he was across the width from us. He was strong in this event and we all sat there tensed for the horn. It almost took us by surprise when it sounded because we hadn't heard the 'ready' signal.

Buddy broke to the surface and was stroking madly. From the very first it was obvious he was pulling away from the pack. No one ever came near to challenging him and he pulled strongly up the length of the pool and touched a full body length ahead of the second place swimmer.

One race, one Gold and the Deer Run crowd went wild.

Sean was next with the Crawl. Since this was easily his strongest stroke and the 50 meter required no turn it was pretty much accepted that he had no competition in this particular event and the race proved this to be correct. He touched the wall an almost embarrassing distance from the number two swimmer.

Two races, two Gold.

Charlie was next with the butterfly. Before his injury he was untouchable in this race. The big mystery, of course, was had is arm healed enough for him to be back in form?

The horn sounded and they jumped. Two little heads broke the water first… noticeably ahead of the pack and were off down the pool neck and neck. They were in lanes five and six. I don't know if they were aware of each other swimming side by side but they certainly performed as if they were.

About 15 meters from the wall Charlie in lane six began to slowly pull ahead. It was agonizing to watch at first… almost imperceptible but it quickly became evident that he was extending his lead and the boy in lane five was running out of gas. Charlie touched the wall almost a full meter ahead.

Three races, three gold. We just all got nuts for little Charlie we were all so happy for him. He strutted back along our side of the pool like a little monkey with an ear-to-ear grin.

As the afternoon wore on it became another outrageously successful meet for the boys from Deer Run. Every boy had won at least two gold and none of them had finished outside of the medals in any event. Sean had won gold in all five of his events so far and all that remained for him was the 400 meter individual medley and then the team relay.

He was sitting next to me on the bench his legs bouncing up and down as he flexed on the balls of his feet. "This is so neat Eric! We're doin sooo good! I'm doin good ain't I? Am I doin good as Kyle did Eric?" he was looking at me anxiously.

"It's time to put an end to this," I thought and I turned to face him almost too abruptly.

"Sean," I said looking at him intently. "You've already won as many medals as Kyle did when he was here at the State and you've still got two events to go! Sean, Kyle never did as good as this… you… you're better than Kyle was. Don't waste any more time thinking about being as good as Kyle, my sweet little man. Just keep being as good as Sean."

He looked at me in a strange half serious half questioning way and I was troubled a bit by his expression. He was about to say something when the call came to take the blocks for the 400 meter Medley.

He got up to take his place but after about four steps he turned around and looked at me again. I couldn't read the expression on his face so I just smiled at him. He cocked his head to the side, and still looking at me in that enigmatic way, he did the strangest thing; he softly blew me a kiss and gave me a little wave. Pulling on his swim cap and goggles he took his place on the block for lane three.

At least he's down by our side of the pool, I thought. Maybe he'll even be able to hear us cheering.

The 400 meter individual medley is the most demanding event in competitive swimming. It consisted of two laps of the pool in each of the major strokes and every part of the event is controlled including the turns at the wall. The order of the strokes was; Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke and a free-style lap which was almost always the crawl.

I was leaning forward on my seat and I realized that I was wringing my hands on my lap and biting my lower lip. Martha leaned over to me and said, "All this tension! How can that poor little boy stand it?"

I looked at her and without thinking I replied, "Martha, are you crazy? All he has to do is swim. We're the ones who have to watch!"

I studied the boys on each of the other nine lanes. By now I had learned not to try and gauge Sean's chance of success by the size of his opponents. Sean seemed to have 'something' that no other boy he's swum against had. Still, my heart did a small flutter when I realized that Sean was the third smallest boy on the line and that the boys in lanes two and ten were significantly bigger than him.

I heard the 'ready' this time and I held my breath as all ten boys dropped their arms to their sides and hunched over the water. It always amazed me at this point in a race how professional my little boy looked and acted just before the horn.

The horn! It sounded and they were off… all ten little bodies hurled into the water and gliding smoothly below. For a second or so, everything was quiet… then they surfaced… twenty little arms flailing in the chest and shoulder searing torture of the butterfly stroke.

They churned the water around them and from the stands the deafening roars of encouragement rang through the immense hall.

The line of the swimmers was slightly jagged but really rather even. No swimmer lagged significantly behind and none had established a large lead either. They hit the wall marking the completion of the first lap.

After negotiating the turn, the boy in lane seven began a furious effort and quickly opened up a noticeable gap ahead of the other swimmers. That's a mistake, I thought to myself, he'll burn himself out; there are so many laps to go.

At the completion of the 'fly', the turn must be executed by touching both hands to the wall and then rolling onto your back before you can take a stroke.

The boy in lane seven made the transition to the backstroke perfectly but it was obvious that he'd wasted a lot of his 'stuff' on that final effort in the butterfly. I assumed that he was hoping to gain some of it back during the far less exerting back stroke.

Close behind him, the other nine boys made perfect turns and were strongly onto the chase. The backstroke was a strong event for Sean and before he'd hit the wall on the far side, he and the two bigger boys in lanes two and ten had pulled even with the early leader and after the turn they were all three pulling away from him. The rest of the pack was not very far behind, however, and there was a lot of race left. As they approached the wall for the end of the backstroke it was still Sean, and the boys in lanes two and ten.

At the completion of the back stroke, swimmers are required to touch the wall while on their backs and then roll over onto their breasts before stroking away.

The three lead boys executed perfect turns and were now engaged in the breast stroke. Close behind the rest of the pack hit the wall and turned though now the line was stringing out as weaker swimmers tired and dropped back. I noticed, with no real satisfaction that I had been right and the boy in lane seven was being swallowed by the pack as less tired swimmers overtook him.

Sean and the two bigger boys were still virtually even when they hit the far wall and the rest of the pack was noticeably losing space behind them. Unless something unexpected happened this would be a three-man race. Although I'd watched dozens of times, first with Kyle and now with Sean, it always astonished me how such little kids could take the punishment and perform so well in such a grueling event.

There were no tricky rules for the completion of the breast stroke other than the obvious requirement that the swimmer must be on his breast when he touches the wall.

At first look, it appeared as though all three boys had touched the wall almost simultaneously but as they came out of the turn and into the crawl, it was obvious that lane ten was lagging just slightly behind.

No one in the vast hall had eyes for anything else except for the two lead swimmers; Sean in lane three and the boy next to him in lane two. They were matching each other stroke for furious stroke as they hit the far wall and dived under kicking off in perfect racers turns.

This was it… the final lap and they looked to be perfectly matched. The bigger boy's longer arms should have provided some advantage but Sean's fury and tenacity negated any advantage provided by mere size.

About half way down the pool Sean drew upon 'something' out from deep inside himself. His stroke suddenly increased in force and velocity and slowly, slowly he pulled ahead of the other boy. It seemed impossible that such a little child could produce such strength and power. He was almost machine like.

I was on my feet screaming… we all were. About five meters from the wall it was obvious that Sean couldn't be caught. He touched/finished a half body length ahead of the boy in the next lane.

The entire Deer Run contingent were wildly hugging and screaming… Dancing and jumping in wild celebration. It was mayhem in our section of the stands.

Down in the pool, Sean had reached over and was graciously embracing the boy in lane two in congratulation and consolation. Their arms were wrapped around each other as they rested their heads upon the others shoulder and gasped for breath whispering words of praise to each other for their grand competition.

I had tears running down my cheeks as I hugged everyone around me. John and Martha were crying as hard as I was and even Walter's face was flush with excitement. I couldn't see Doc Swaim anyplace in the swarming crowd but his booming voice could be heard distinctly above the cacophony that filled the air and enveloped me.

The total of six gold medals including this fantastic medley victory assured that Sean would be awarded the overall championship trophy. I was so proud and happy for him. My heart felt rich and full.

Down at the pool the coaches were helping Sean out of the water and he was mobbed by his six friends and teammates. The coaches were quickly ushering them into the locker room to prepare for the team relay that would be the grand finale of the Swim Meet though I personally wondered how they expected anything to top the fantastic race we had just witnessed.

John and I walked back to the refreshment stand and got all of us some Cokes (sadly for me there was no beer for sale here today). When I got back in my seat, I leaned over to Walter and mentioned that we needed to find a good restaurant to host the big victory dinner this evening. He pulled out his cell phone and told me he'd take care of it.

About fifteen minutes later they were calling for the teams to come out for the relay. Our boys were in lane two so we would have another great view from our seats.

I watched as our guys strutted out from the locker. Buddy, Matty and Charlie were chatting and joking… punching each other in the arm and poking each other in the ribs while, behind them Rico, Mike and Bulldog were doing some kind of swaggering little dance that they no doubt thought to be very cool.

I didn't see Sean yet.

I took a big swig of my soda and turned to John and Martha pointing out the three dancing little roosters down on the deck. John made some funny remark and Martha just exclaimed that they were very cute.

"Hmnnn. Still no Sean." I mused. "I wonder what's keeping him."

After a few minutes it became obvious that all the other teams were in place but Sean had still not come out. I watched as Coach Riorden walked across the deck and into the locker room, A few minutes later he came out and approached one of the Meet Officials talking excitedly with hands waving.

"Something's wrong," I said to John and Walter and I got up and hurried down towards the pool area. John and Walter were right behind me as one of the Officials tried to stop us. "I'm sorry sir. No unauthorized persons are allowed at pool side… that's regulations." One of John's big arms pushed him aside as we muscled past him.

"Stick your regulations up your ass!" John snarled.

I walked up to Clay who looked at me confused… almost stupefied. "Sean's not in the locker room," he said as if in a daze.

"What do you mean he's not in the locker room? I saw him go in and he sure as hell didn't come out yet!"

"H-He's not in there Eric. I just looked."

I turned to the six boys who were now crowded around us sensing that something wasn't right.

"Guys, do you know where Sean is?"

"Yeah Mr. T," said Buddy. "He's with that magazine guy doin a interview."

"That's impossible son, " the Official standing with us said. "No Press people are allowed in the locker room while the meet is still going on."

I felt a chill run down my spine. Before I could move Walter had already turned on his heels and was racing to the locker room door with John close behind him.

I followed and we burst into the room. It was empty. We checked the toilets and the showers, the supply closet even the utility cubby. Frantically I scanned the room and saw Walter standing near the back wall. On the floor was Sean's team bag all his clothes and gear were strewn out across the grey tiles.

Walter had something in his hand and he held it out to me. It was a laminated white, red and green Press Pass and it was in the name of 'Dwight Freshette'.

"It's phony as hell," Walter said as he strode to the emergency exit door at the back of the room. He just lightly touched it and it swung open freely. Upon examination it was obvious that the latch and lock had been skillfully tampered with from the outside.

The cold hand of terror closed around my heart and squeezed tightly as if to crush it.

Sean was gone.

My precious little boy was gone.

Is Eric going to be crushed once more? Will he and his whole family be destroyed beyond hope of recovery? Will he lie weeping over the broken body of the little boy he had come to love so much? Or is there hope?

It's cops, FBI and we'll find out some things about Walter that even Eric didn't know

True helplessness is the dependency upon others to do for us what we can and (by nature) should do for ourselves. This is poverty of the deepest kind for it is not poverty of the pocket but of the soul.

The man who will not strive to lift himself but instead has come to expect another to stoop and offer aid and succor is destitute in all those things that make us men. Such a person is exceptionally poor because he has lost not just dignity but his very humanity. He is no longer helpless, he is hopeless.

The man with the yellow teeth had changed out of the brown sport jacket and had dressed himself in tight fitting black leather which clung to his tall skeletal body like some strange dead layer of skin that has become darkened and foul while still remaining intact… dried and reptilian.

The atmosphere in the room swirled purple and grey glowing with a luminosity of its own. It was like an abnormal mist or smoke had filled the space, illuminating while simultaneously hiding all but that which it chose to reveal.

His laughter had turned from simpering to sinister as he leered at me and with a flourish of his hand and wrist, drew my attention from his hideously grinning face to the naked black haired boy kneeling at his feet.

"Share your talents with Uncle Dwight!" he cackled as he viciously grabbed a handful of dark hair and forced the boy's head back. "See, Uncle Dwight has brought you some candy!"

I struggled to reach them but I was held stiffly in place by bonds that were unseen and unfelt. It was if my body was stone and only my eyes were mine to control.

He took his inhumanly long cock and forced it into the child's open mouth somehow achieving complete entry. His emaciated hips thrust and gyrated obscenely as he viciously pleased himself in the wet heat from the open drooling maw of the wide eyed little boy.

Trying desperately to move but unable to do so, I watched this horror until the thin death like man eventually grew tired of his game.

Withdrawing his snake like member from the now weeping child, he lifted the little body up and laid it spread-eagled upon a nearby table. With one claw-like hand he grasped both tiny ankles and forced the boy's feet back and over hif head. The youngster's ass was raised and the tiny pucker of his rectum completely exposed and vulnerable.

"Too bad you waited too long to try some of this!" laughed the vile specter as he glared at me with wild red rimmed eyes. "I'll bet he's tight and hot eh? Let's find out shall we?"

Without pause or warning he drove the long purple veined dick deep into the boy's unlubed hole… bottoming out in one swift cruel motion. His evil cackles of mirth almost drowned out the little boy's shrieks of pain.

He fucked the child viciously for what seemed like hours until finally making one brutal ultimate thrust; he flung back his head and howled like a beast in pleasure and triumph.

The little boy sat up and looked at me with tortured sad blue/green eyes. Through tears and sobs he said, "You PROMISED. You said you'd protect me… that nothing would ever hurt me."

"Sean… Sean," I gasped as I fought my invisible bonds. "I'm trying baby! I swear to God I'm trying! I just can't get to you!"

"Enough fun for now!" the dark man chuckled. "Time to put our toy back in the box!"

In rage and terror I watched helplessly as he picked up the feebly struggling boy and placed him into a small, black metal casket.

Before he had closed the lid completely I could hear the child's plaintive cries, "Daddy! Daddy! Pleeeease! Please help me!

The room was filled with loud, guttural animal-like screams.

They were mine.

***

I was sitting up in bed shaking. My body, my clothes and my bedding were soaked from sweat. Strong hands grasped my shoulder and suddenly a light snapped on. "Eric! Eric… it's all right! It's all right you were dreaming. You had a bad dream and who can blame you?"

I looked up at Doc Swaim who was grasping me and looking down with concern. In the background I could see John pouring what looked like a tall shot of whiskey into a glass. He hastily brought it to me.

"Here, drink this Eric. It will help calm you down."

I shook my head to clear it. I remembered. I was awake now but I was still in a very bad dream made far worse by the fact that this was actually real. The horrible recollections filled my head taking their proper places in the picture of bleakness and fear that were the past several hours.

The police had arrived on the scene surprisingly quickly after we had discovered the abduction. It seemed like mere moments before investigators were swarming over the locker room, pool area and the parking lot. I realized it had all taken longer than that, but I suspect I was in shock and therefore, time was not passing at a normal pace for me.

I did remember that, despite my shock and fear, I had made some quick and intelligent decisions.

I'd arraigned for the six nearly hysterical little boys from the team along with their families to be flown home in my jet. I'd also sent a protesting Martha back home as well. I had suggested that Doc Swaim and Walter return with her but Doc insisted he was staying with me and Walter had shaken his head and then led me off to the side of the room.

Looking at me with an intensity I'd never seen from him before he said, "Eric, I fucked up. I didn't do my job properly. If I had, this would never have happened. Maybe I'm getting too old."

I stared at him in total bewilderment. "What are you saying Walter?" I managed to ask.

"Eric, there's a lot that you don't know… don't understand. Your father died before he could tell you and you've spent so many years drunk and… well screwed up in the head… Phil has never had the chance to sit you down and explain. That's our fault… but it's your fault too."

He was obviously struggling to tell me something… to make me understand but I was presently not receptive and he was too emotionally charged up to articulate clearly.

"I realize you don't know much about things that happened… in the past, but I used to do… things for your father. Together we built an amazing thing and I'm a part of it. Part of my charge… part of my job was you and Kyle and your safety… nobody could have foreseen the accident that took your father and Kyle but I should have seen THIS and I should have stopped it. Now I've got to fix it. I've got to do this alone and quietly"

"You let the Professor and John stay with you and I'll call you as soon as I can."

He gave my shoulder a squeeze and left. I hadn't seen him since. I wondered briefly what in the hell he had been talking about but eventually chalked it up to his own peculiar way of dealing with the shock of the entire situation. I had other demanding things to face.

I'd rented out the entire upper floor of the Capital Inn after discovering that it consisted of six suites plus a medium sided meeting room. After moving up onto the floor the police and. shortly afterward the FBI, set up a command center in the meeting room.

I'd called Uncle Phil and asked him to move into Joyous Gaurde for the duration and act as my point man. Working on the assumption that there was going to be a ransom demand I also had him look into liquidating assets into cash so that we would have it on hand as required.

The FBI had thus far done a very good job keeping the story from the press but there had been so many people at the swim meet that it was only a matter of time… very little time before the news became public. I asked Doc Swaim to be prepared for that surety and to act as my personal contact with the press.

I'd spend a couple of hours reviewing the situation with Senior Agent Clair Dunn of the FBI who had arrived and taken charge shortly after our initial call to the police. Some basic information had surfaced within hours of the crime.

Fortunately, the Sports complex had a good network of security cameras placed around the grounds and very quickly a video was produced that clearly showed a tall thin man in a sports jacket carrying a surprisingly compliant dark-haired boy clad only in a skimpy swim suit across the parking lot behind the locker room and placing him into the back of a white cargo van. From his actions or rather lack of actions, the boy appeared to be unconscious. The camera lens and angle were good enough that the license number of the van was clearly visible.

Within 20 minutes we knew that the van had been reported stolen the previous evening.

Walter's surmise had proven to be correct and the press pass found on the floor of the locker room was, in fact, a fake. There were several different fingerprints lifted off the pass and these were being checked. I knew in advance that one set would turn out to be mine and another would be Walter's. One, it was assumed, would be the kidnapper's and hopefully these would lead to an identification. The name; 'Dwight Freshette' was also being researched through the FBI records.

By midnight, I realized that there was nothing more I could do at the moment and so I moved down the hall into the suite my stuff had been transferred to and made myself a drink. John was sitting with me while the Professor was on the telephone with Uncle Phil who had called to assure us that the six boys and their families had arrived safely and had all been taken home by staff members. Uncle Phil had convinced Martha to have four or five glasses of wine and she was now tucked away in her apartment in the main house sleeping very soundly.

John was drinking a beer and trying very hard to bolster my spirits but the tears welling in his eyes gave the lie to all of his bravado. After three large glasses of scotch I'd told him that I was going to try to grab some sleep.

An hour or so later, I had awakened screaming.

I sipped on the glass of scotch John had just handed me and I stared at my two friends. It was obvious just by looking at them that neither had been to bed since early Saturday morning. I sent them across the hall to try to sleep promising to come and wake them if there were any developments.

I stripped off my clothes and got into the shower. After soaping up I let the steaming hot water play over me for about 10 minutes before I stepped out and got dressed.

I walked down the hall and into the FBI command post. Normally, I probably wouldn't have been very welcome in there but, since I was paying for the room and supplying all the food and beverages for them, they didn't say anything. The fact that I'm so damned rich probably didn't hurt either.

Agent Dunn was sitting in a chair over by the window looking out at the now mostly dark Sports Complex. I strolled over to the coffee maker and poured myself a cup, grabbed a chair and pulled it over next to her. "Don't you sleep, Agent?" I asked, more by way of small talk than anything else.

"Not for a while Mr. Tucker," she replied, "these are the critical times I'm afraid." My question must have been written clearly on my face because she continued, "Look, you're a nice guy and you certainly didn't just fall off the Christmas tree, so let me be honest with you. Sean's kidnapping is highly unusual in the United States. Most of the abductions here are by family members and are about custodial issues. The second most common cause is for some sort of sexual abuse but this particular situation seems to rule that out because it was too well planned and… once the story breaks, too public. Sexual deviant kidnappers as a rule choose their victims randomly and snatch them from isolated locations."

"We haven't received any communication as of yet but I'm betting that your boy was kidnapped for ransom purposes. Your family name and well-known wealth would seem to back that up. We've got to stay alert and hope our kidnapper doesn't get cold feet or get spooked. We've got to help him over the crisis hump."

Again I must have looked questioningly at her.

"I don't mean to give you any more to worry about than is already on your plate but the hard truth, Mr. Tucker, is that here in America, in the case of kidnapping by a stranger, 70% of the time the victim is killed within 24 hours. During the next 48 hours, 20% are killed. After 72 hours, the odds get much better so we've got to help our kidnapper not to find a reason to panic right now."

I swallowed hard and nodded.

"The fact that you're known to be rich and can afford to pay an outrageous ransom is in our favor." She looked down and noticed her coffee cup was empty. She got up to walk over and refill it but she turned and added,"The fact that you're known to be rich and can afford to finance 'hired guns' may not be in our favor." She looked at me pointedly and walked over to the coffee pot.

"Hired guns?" I shook my head in confusion.

There was a sudden flurry of action at one of the tables near the wall and a young black agent motioned us over. "They found the van abandoned on a dirt road in the National Forest about thirty miles [50 km from here," he said glancing at me obviously uncertain if he should say more. Agent Dunn nodded affirmatively to him.

"Inside the van they found a used syringe and an empty vial of sodium thiopental. That explains why the kid looks out like a light in the video… he was. They also…" he looked from me to his senior agent again. "They also found the kid's swimming suit wadded up on the floor at the back of the van."

As I was walking away from his station I overheard him saying to a colleague, "I hope the guy knows what he's doing with that needle. That's one of the three drugs they use in executions. He could OD a little kid like that easily"

I gritted my teeth and walked down the hall hands balled in anger and frustration when my cell phone rang.

The FBI had taken my phone and done some things with it hours earlier. I assumed it was now synced or in some other way linked to their listening devices. I ran down the hall back into their command post waving my phone. Senior Agent Dunn signaled for me to answer it.

"Hello…"

"Mr. Tucker. You're not a very nice man. You shouldn't be so rude to people who are just looking for some information eh?" I glanced over to the bank of agents who were signaling me to try and keep the conversation going when he spoke as if he could see what was happening.

"Oh, I know you've got the cops and the FBI there and I know they're working to trace this call but Mr. Tucker, I know a thing or two about these things… probably a lot more than those guys do."

"You can only ping a cell phone accurately to the tower that it's using but Mr. Tucker… or may I call you Eric? THAT would be so much friendlier and pleasant eh? Yes I think I shall. You see Eric, I'm talking from a very special little phone of my own devising that uses satellite signals to bounce traces from towers all over the place. You'll never find the tower I'm actually drawing from because it looks like I'm calling from all over the country… it's completely random!"

"Right now one of your agents probably thinks I'm calling from Seattle while another has proof I'm calling from Boston. Eric, you and I could chat all night and they wouldn't be any closer to tracing my bouncing little signal than they are right now. This phone is untraceable so you should be nice and tell them all to relax and eat a doughnut or something."

"But then, you don't really want to chat with me do you? You want to get down to business eh?"

"That's right! I sure as hell do! Why did you take that boy and what do you want?"

"Calm down Eric. You're being rude again and that's starting to annoy me." I looked over at Agent Dunn who standing with an earphone held to one ear signaled me to calm my temper.

"You're right." I tried to sound civil and a bit apologetic at the same time. "What do I need to do to get my little boy back?"

"You see Eric? That wasn't so hard was it? When you're nice like that it makes me… well it makes me want to work with you eh?"

"Yes you're right. Can… MAY I speak with Sean?… Please?"

"I'm sorry that's not possible he's… sleeping right now."

"Then… then how can I be sure you haven't hurt him?… how do I know he's even alive?"

"I rather expected this request might come up. I tell you what Eric… you ask me a question that only he would know the answer to and when he wakes up, I'll call you back with his answer. In the meantime, to keep you out of mischief, why don't you begin gathering up ten million dollars in cash eh?"

"Oh… better get a pencil so you can write this down. Ready?"

"None of the bills is to be marked in any way. I assure you that I'll know if they are… outsmarting the FBI with cell phones is only one of my many talents you see. Now, I want two million in twenty-dollar bills, five million in fifties, two and a half million in one-hundred-dollar bills and the final half million in ones and fives… I don't care how you mix them up. I'll tell you later how to package it. Got that all Eric?"

"Yes and I know you're smart enough to realize this will take some time of course."

"I'm not stupid Eric but I'm not foolish either. I'm willing to be reasonable especially since today is Sunday. I'll give you until Tuesday evening let's say 6:30 eh? Oh… did you want to ask me that question? I believe your FBI friends would call that 'Proof of Life'".

"Yes, yes… ask him… ask Sean… what do we call our favorite car?"

"Excellent I'll call back with his answer. Oh, and Eric, I'd wish you a good night but I see the sun is just about to come up. Good morning and Goodbye."

"Well I recognized the voice," I said to the agents. "It's definitely that guy who posed as a reporter before the swimming meet."

"Unless he was being cute about the sunrise, I'll bet he's still in this county. Probably in or around the city," said Agent Dunn.

I punched Uncle Phil's number. He answered almost at once and didn't sound groggy. I suspected he hadn't been to bed. I gave him the specifics about the ransom cash.

"Shouldn't be too difficult Eric. We've got friends at the Federal Reserve Bank and several of our own institutions have told me not to worry about liquidating any assets yet… seems you have pretty damn good credit."

"Thanks Uncle Phil. Take good care of Martha. She's going to be crazy with worry when she wakes up. Oh and I've told Clay Riorden that he can call you in the evenings and you'll keep him informed about what's going on."

"Will do. Take care of yourself Eric and know that everybody is praying for you guys… and son… I'm sorry things … well, I'm sorry. It's going to be all right though."

"Thanks Uncle Phil."

I broke the connection and stared out the window. The black night sky was turning grey with a rosy tinge at the horizon. A bit too early for our shower, little man, I thought to myself. I think it's your turn to pick the music isn't it?

I was standing in the middle of the hall weeping when Doc and John found me and walked me back to my room.

I felt like a little boy again with my face buried in the big Professor's chest as I cried out my despair and felt it shift to hot burning anger. I raised my head and looked up at him and over at John.

"If he hurts him… if he hurts that boy… I'll spend every penny I've got to track him down." I swiped the back of my hand across my eyes. "Shit, I've got more money than a lot of countries have and I'll spend it all to track him down and then… I'll have him brought to me… to a place of my choosing and… I'll kill him. I'll kill him myself!"

I spun away from Doc's embrace and stalked across the room. I stood at the fireplace and thought about a little boy sitting on a red cushion playing guitar and singing a song. A beautiful song. I thought about his perfect little body that snuggled and clung to me so warmly and willingly and I saw his stunning blue/green eyes as he whispered, "You're the best friend I ever had in my whole life" and I knew, I just KNEW that was his way of saying "I love you".

I'd been rolling a little glass bud vase from the mantle around in my hand. Suddenly I closed my fist around it and viciously flung it down smashing it upon the hearth. "Goddamitt! Goddamitt! That fuckin' son of a bitch has my SON! He's got my SON!" I was crying again and Doc Swaim and John closed in to hold and comfort me.

"He's not the son of my blood… he's not of my flesh. He's the son of my soul… the son of my heart! We chose each other… we CHOSE each other! He's my son goddamitt!"

I was sitting on the coach sobbing holding a drink that John had made for me. Doctor Swaim was sitting next to me with his arm around my shoulders. My throat was raw from shouting and crying. "He's my son!" I croaked almost in a whisper.

"If nothing else Eric," Doc Swaim spoke softly. "If nothing else you've recognized that much."

***

John had poured me my third drink. I raised it in salute. "Here's to the breakfast of champions!" I said sarcastically.

Just as I raised the glass to my lips, my cell phone sounded.

"Good Morning Eric. It looks as though it's going to be a perfect April Day in paradise. I called because I asked your question of our mutual little friend and he said to tell you 'the red cat'. Does that satisfy you?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes. Yes it does. Thank you."

"Oh Eric, you're so very welcome; it's the least I can do… for ten million dollars. Now, I'll call again sometime on Monday to see how things are coming along… oh, and Eric, because you're cooperating so nicely, I'm sending you a little present and PLEASE don't manhandle the delivery boy… he won't have the slightest idea what this is about. Nice chatting with you."

"The smug son of a bitch!" I growled as I threw back my drink and held out my glass for another.

***

There was a lunchtime feeding frenzy going on in the command room. I'd ordered in vast quantities of KFC and buckets of mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits and other side dishes.

I'd discovered, that despite everything I was starving, and I sat at a table with Doc and John pigging out like the rest of them. The only way you could have differentiated us from the FBI and Police was we were drinking beer and they weren't.

The room phone rang and one of the agents picked it up. Placing his hand over the mouthpiece he announced, "The front disk says there's a kid downstairs with an envelope for Mr. Tucker."

"Tell them to send him up," replied Senior Agent Dunn.

The poor kid looked to be all of 17 years old it was probably his first job… saving up money for a car or something. When the door to the room was opened in response to his knock, he found himself staring into the barrels of three large black Glocks all pointed at his head. He did the natural thing… he pissed his pants.

Feeling terrible for him, I pulled him off to the side and asked for his trousers and boxers. I gave him a towel to wrap around himself. He complied confused and shaken.

While he was being interrogated in the next room by agents I had a bellhop come up and take his wet clothing to the laundry to be washed and dried. A generous tip ensured the task would be performed quickly.

Freshette. or whoever he was, had, of course, been correct. The kid just worked weekends for the messenger service and neither he nor they could shed any light on who had sent the envelope.

Clair Dunn had the decency to leave the room so the kid could remove the towel and put his shorts and trousers back on with some modicum of modesty. I handed him a hundred dollar bill and told him he'd been a good sport. He never thanked me… he couldn't get out of there fast enough. I actually wondered if he was going to keep the job or quit.

I opened the envelope and withdrew its contents. It was a USB memory stick with a note that could have been printed from any computer:

HERE'S A BONUS PROOF OF LIFE
SEE HOW YOU GET REWARDED FOR BEING POLITE?
ENJOY ERIC. YOU TOO FBI.

We plugged the memory stick into Agent Dunn's computer. It contained a single JPEG image. It was Sean, sitting naked on a cardboard box leaning against a wall. The wall was made of wooden planks painted a deep green and coated to a glossy finish that flared a bit in the photograph.

Sean's naked body was almost as pale as death his skin looked more grey than flesh-colored. His beautiful hair was matted and disheveled. His eyelids looked swollen and heavy and there were dark bags and circles under his eyes. His eyes! His normally dancing and twinkling eyes looked flat and lifeless and the pupils were obviously dilated. His lips were blue or purple and his facial expression was… well it wasn't… his face was blank like a doll's.

Next to his head tacked to the wall by a single yellow push pin was an article obviously torn from this morning's sports page:

SEVEN SAMURAI STATE SWIMMING SWEEP

"The son of a Bitch! The sadistic son of a bitch! I'm going to find this bastard! I swear I'm going to find him!"

But it wasn't me who found him. It was Walter.

***

The rest of the afternoon and evening were uneventful; there were no new leads and no further phone calls from Freshette.

I placed a call to Uncle Phil who (I was glad to learn) had actually slept about five hours during the afternoon and was now, as he put it 'ready for the long haul'.

"Eric, the ransom cash is all set. I'll need less than two hours to have the entire package put together just like this creep demands. All I'll need to know is how he wants it packaged. As you know the story broke in the newspapers this morning about Sean being 'missing' they're still managing to keep the fact that it's a kidnapping under wraps. Per your request I've been referring all press inquiries to Doctor Swaim's cell phone."

I knew that was true because, since about one o'clock this afternoon, the Professor's cell phone hadn't stopped. Finally, he had changed his voicemail message to indicate he'd be available again at ten Monday morning. "Enough is enough!" he'd declared.

We were sitting around in my room drinking rather heavily, rehashing Saturday's events in order to try and determine if we'd missed any obvious clues that might have provided some forewarning but, try as we might, the only thing any of us could remember was the short curt 'interview' with the phony reporter Freshette and that certainly provided no indication of what was to come.

I didn't check the clock when I finally sent them both across the hall declaring we all needed some sleep, but I know it was quite late.

I sprawled out on the bed frightened of sleep. I was certain that black dreams of terror and grief were waiting for me but if they were, they didn't wake me and I didn't remember them in the morning. There are some rewards to be obtained from consuming too much alcohol.

I rolled over in bed and noticed the sky was a pale translucent grey. It was morning; another painful day had begun.

My cell phone alerted me of an incoming call. "Good morning Eric. It's going to be another lovely day in paradise! Sorry to be calling you so early but I've got some urgent news. Things are moving along faster for me than I'd expected and well, I'm afraid that you're going to have to get that money together a bit quicker than we'd just discussed because… eh?… wait a second… What the fuck!… ." The call disconnected.

What in the hell was that all about? I wondered. I guess his 'super cell phone' dropped the call. I waited about five minutes to see if he called back but the phone was silent.

I went into the bath room to get ready for whatever the day had in store.

I was just coming out of the shower when I heard a knock on my door. Wrapping a towel around my waist I opened it and found Special Agent Dunn standing there.

"Get dressed quickly," she said bluntly… no good morning… no greeting just a command. "We'll all catch some breakfast on the road. We're taking your van. Move Eric!"

What the hell is going on? I wondered and then realized she'd never called me Eric before. I didn't think, I didn't question. I reacted. I ran into the bedroom and threw on some jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt, a light jacket and hurried back out into the hall. The Professor and John were there too looking as confused as I was.

She led us down to the hotel parking garage and when we came to the brown rental van she held out her hand to John. "Keys!" she said "I know where we're going."

Without asking any questions John reached into his pocket and handed her the keys. I climbed into the front passenger seat and John and the Professor took the seats in the second row.

Once we were moving and on the road, Agent Dunn seemed to relax. "I got the call about 45 minutes ago. It should all be over by the time we get there. Assuming we don't make any wrong turns, we should be there in a little under an hour."

"Excuse me Agent Dunn, but what in the hell is going on? Where are you taking us?"

"To get Sean of course."

I think if we had been standing you could have blown the three of us over with one breath. It was Doc who spoke first, "I assume that you can and will provide a more detailed explanation than that?"

She laughed. It was a deep throaty laugh and it was pleasant to hear. For the first time I noticed that she was a rather attractive woman, I guessed in her early fourties. Her innate femininity was not damaged or supplanted by her extreme air of self-confidence.

"Settle back fellahs, we've got plenty of time for this tale. Let's get some food to go and I'll do my best explain."

A few minutes later we were balancing bags of Egg McMuffins, hash browns and large cups of hot remarkably good coffee on our laps as agent Dunn drove on and began her story.

"It really starts with your father Eric. When your grandfather suffered what essentially was an emotional breakdown following the death of your grandmother, your father had the control of all of the family enterprises thrust upon him. Fortunately, he was more than up to the task and he was, in many ways a visionary seeing possibilities that your grandfather never imagined."

"Very soon afterward he courted and married Alice Trouthe, your mother, and also the heiress to a family fortune almost as large as the Tucker's at the time. It was assumed at the time that their's was a marriage of convenience but time quickly proved that they were two exciting and interesting people who actually loved each other very much. But I certainly don't have to tell you that Eric. The fact that they were together when they were killed speaks volumes about their close relationship."

"If your father had done nothing else, the combination of these two families created one of the single greatest fortunes in the country but your father was not one to settle for the status quo. He saw great opportunities for growth globally, but those were confusing troubling times … almost every continent was politically unstable and your father realized many of his undertakings would need to take place sub-rosa."

"He recruited a capable man from the elite of the armed forces. A man seasoned in what are now called black ops. That man of course was Walter."

"Walter became the core around which your father's large and frankly secret operation was formed. His loyalty to your family is deep and almost fanatical, Eric. Your father was like a beloved older brother to him and by extension he feels as if you are family."

"How do you know so much about my family Agent? You're only about ten years older than me and I've never seen you before." I interrupted.

"Just let me finish and hopefully it will all become clear to you. Let me partially answer that though by saying that, like you, I've known Walter my whole life. As your father's network grew in size and scope, Walter withdrew from what we might euphemistically call 'field operations' to take on a more central role and, with that, the important responsibility of your family's security. In that regard he has done a remarkable job."

"You've never in your life stopped to wonder why you've all ways felt so safe… so free from real danger, have you? You've grown up feeling secure and protected by the fence and gate around your estate never once stopping to think what pitifully inadequate fortification they actually provided. You've blissfully regarded your safety and freedom from danger as a birthright… a bonus that came with your wealth but that safety… that sense of security… really came to you through the diligence of Walter and his people."

"I'm not putting you down, Eric. You've grown up the way your father wanted it. At this point in your life, he would have probably begun to explain everything to you… to be phasing you in… but he of course couldn't foresee his own untimely death. That duty then fell to Phillip Regent who you call 'Uncle Phil' but, following the deaths of your family members, you became so emotionally unstable that it wasn't deemed safe or proper to reveal the truth behind your family affairs yet."

"This kid, Sean, seems to have changed all of that for you and Walter and Phillip had been planning to slowly tell you all of the things you need to know. Nobody saw this thing happening, I'll tell you. This guy is such a whack job that he slipped right under the radar. That's never happened before and will never happen again."

"In short Eric, while you've known for a long time that you are one of the richest men in the world, what you haven't known is that you are secretly one of the most powerful. Walter and Phillip were preparing to reveal to you that you. In many ways, Eric you are a nation unto yourself."

She paused to let this sink in and to take a sip from her coffee. "Shit!" she growled. "I've been talking so much its gotten cold. I hate cold coffee."

"Here, this one still has the cap on it. It's still hot," said John passing a cardboard cup up from the back seat.

"Thanks" she said quickly, glancing backward to smile at him.

"If family security is so tight, how are we here?" asked John indicating himself and the professor.

"Oh, you were both thoroughly checked out I promise you!" Agent Dunn said with a chuckle. "Eric's father liked you both… he really did… but that doesn't mean he took either of you at face value. You guys only became family when it was determined that you were each the real deal."

"Agent Dunn…" I cut in.

"Probably time you called me Clair," she responded.

"Clair, then, for the moment, let's jump ahead to the here and now. What's going on?"

"Fair enough. So, for now, let's end the history lesson. As I said, this guy came flying in right under the radar and caught everybody off guard. That doesn't make him particularly clever… more lucky than anything else. In a way, we're fortunate that Walter was up here with you all when the snatch took place… oh the outcome would have been the same but that made it quicker."

"Walter chose to go back out into the field for this one because he took it personally. It wasn't all that hard to crack. The guy's first mistake was leaving that press pass behind. To tell you guys the truth, I don't know if he even realized he'd lost it. We're guessing Sean tore it off him in the initial struggle before he drugged the little guy. Two of the sets of prints we lifted off it were Sean's."

"Well the prints got run through the organization's data base. Just for your information Eric, your organization's private data base of finger prints and DNA records is considerably larger than the FBI's or anyone else's for that matter. You see, the FBI has certain legal requirements it needs to follow before it can obtain that information. Your organization doesn't."

"They came up with a match pretty quick… guy by the name of Dieter Kleinefrische, the son of German immigrants, born and raised in this country… a guy with a real chip on his shoulder his whole life and a particular resentment against anybody who had an 'easy life'… no, not against you at least at first, Eric… he had a hard on against the nest Kids. Their forced prostitution didn't seem to bother him a bit. Instead he resented their 'spoiled' upbringing and the 'easy road to success' they were handed after just a few years of sexual submission. The guy's a real sicko. By the way, in case you didn't pick up on it, the guy's fake name is pretty cute. 'Kleinefrische' in German essentially means 'little fresh' so… 'Freshette'. Clever no?"

Anyhow, 'Wolfman', Walter's longtime director of special projects, was able to find out a lot about this guy in a very short time. He was pretty clever with electronics and his little trick with his cell phone was particularly cute. Unfortunately for him, one of our own people had invented the technique several years before him and we know how to get past it. He's also worked for a while as a nurse's aide which is where he learned about using a hypodermic needle and, we suppose, about his knockout drug."

"For the past two years he worked for the Academy, or should I call it THE nest, in the IT department. That is probably where he found out about your exceptionally long and unusual contract for the services of little Sean and that probably is how he set his sights on you."

"Cutting to the chase, 'Wolfman' and a team of specialists were able to determine right after the first call that he was holed up someplace in the National Forest north of the city. They also knew that, because of the nature of the satellite technology he was tapping into, that it had to be generating from a higher elevation. At first they were thinking a cabin in the mountains or even a tree house. Then he made the mistake of sending that picture yesterday. One of the team recognized the glossy green paint on the wall behind Sean and realized it was the standard color used by the Forest Service in virtually all of its buildings. If you've ever visited a State Forest you've seen that color." "A quick check confirmed that there is a still functioning forest fire lookout tower in the Forest but that it is only manned during the summer. Bingo! He's holding Sean up in the 'Cab'… that's the shelter at the top of the tower."

I was flabbergasted. Doc Swaim asked a question that I had been about to, "Agent… Clair, how did this organization of Walter's have access to all of the information that the FBI and Police had gathered?"

She smiled and said,"They have connections in the FBI too Professor."

I realized, just then, that we'd been driving through the National Forest for some time now and shortly, she turned the van onto a dirt road and we drove for about ten miles before a short stocky man stepped out onto the road and signaled us to stop. He was dressed in green camouflage. He wore wire rimmed eyeglasses that looked like glass buttons on a face that seemed at first to be all beard and long uncombed hair.

He walked up to my window and indicated I should lower it. I glanced at Clair and she nodded so I pushed the button and let the glass slide down into the door. He leaned into the van and looked past me speaking directly to Clair, "These two envelopes have all the evidence you'll need to make this case clean as a whistle." He passed two large thick manila envelopes through the window. "It's up ahead about a half a mile the clearing is to your right. You might as well give me a lift."

He slid the sliding door opened and, without comment, got in causing John to slide over to make room. As Clair started the van rolling again she said, "Eric Tucker, say hello to Wolfman."

He leaned over the seat and offered his hand to me. I took it and he said, "It's nice to finally shake your hand Eric. You and me, we've had a kinda long distance relationship!" I didn't get a chance to even think of a reply before he turned to the driver. "How the heck are you Honey?"

Clair turned around to him smiling broadly and said, "I'm just fine Dad. You still coming over for dinner on Wednesday?" She winked at me as we turned into the clearing.

The steel tower loomed above the tree tops. It was about 110 or 120 feet [33-36 m] tall. These towers had once been the first line of defense in detecting forest fires but, over time, had been phased out… replaced by supposedly superior technology. In recent years people were beginning to realize that the trained human eye was still the best first alert and more and more previously abandoned towers were being refurbished and manned.

As we all walked toward it 'Wolfman', whose real name turned out to be Barney, told us that four of them including Walter had crept into the clearing under cover of darkness and had staged themselves strategically under the tower where they couldn't be seen from the 'cab' at the top. As dawn broke, Walter alone carefully climbed the banks of stairs to the top. He took the bastard completely by surprise while he was in the middle of making a cell phone call.

I nodded realizing that call had been the one I'd received this morning and I had unknowingly overheard Walter's assault into the shelter.

"Did you get the son of a bitch?" I asked.

"Oh, we got him all right. He's over there with Barry." He indicated a man in camouflage standing across the clearing about fifty yards from us. As we approached, a stunning recognition came upon me… Barry… this was the same young man who had served as flight attendant both times I'd flown with Sean. He smiled at me.

"Hello again, Mr. Tucker. Right over behind those bushes.' He pointed and I walked to the place he indicated. Lying sprawled upon the ground lay a man. His arms and legs were twisted at angles no human limbs bend. He was lying on his side but his head was twisted around to the point of almost facing out from his back. I recognized the brown sports jacket he was wearing and I knew the face despite the grimace of death… I knew that face and I knew those yellow teeth.

I turned to Barry and Wolfman my expression served as my question.

"He tripped and fell," Wolfman said dryly. "He was way up there out on the observation deck and he tripped and fell. We saw it from here didn't we Barry?"

"Yes sir," The younger man responded. "He just… tripped and fell… it was the damnedest thing."

"What you're looking for is right under those trees over there," Wolfman pointed.

I walked across the clearing and saw them at once. Walter was sitting on a fallen tree trunk cradling in his arms a small bundle wrapped in a blanket. He was slowly rocking back and forth and I could swear I heard him singing softly.

I would later find out that Walter had climbed to the top of the tower and spied Freshette, or Kleinefrische, whatever his name was, as he was making a cell phone call. The struggle was quick and one-sided. Walter may be 67 years old but he was in extraordinary physical shape and had been trained in all manner of martial arts.

Only much later did he admit to me that he had dragged the screaming man out onto the observation deck and hurled him head first over the side. "I don't apologize and I don't try to justify," he had told me matter-of-factly. "The man needed to die and I made certain that he did."

Sean had been huddled unconscious in a corner naked and almost blue. Walter wrapped the little boy in the one blanket that he found and carried him down the tower. He had been sitting cradling the child like that until I came up to them. Walter heard my footfall and looked up. There were tears in his eyes. In my entire life at had only seen Walter cry once and that was when we buried my family.

"He's alive Eric. He's alive but he needs to get to a hospital real bad. The fucker's got him so full of those drugs he…" he shook his head as if in denial of what he had been about to say. Instead he lowered his head and kissed the forehead of the little boy he cradled so tenderly.

"He'll be all right. He's got the soul of an angel but he's got the heart of a lion."

Through blurry eyes I looked across the clearing and saw the lights of the private EMT vehicle that had just pulled in. "The heart of a lion" I muttered. "My son has the heart of a lion".

Well… I hope that wasn't too much to read. I wanted to do it all in one chapter but I didn't want to leave out too many details. Hopefully this has answered some of your questions.
The kidnapping certainly got a lot of you going I hope this chapter has calmed you down a bit. As you all know this is my first story so forgive me if I sometimes get too long winded.

Chapter 22

We deal with healings… of all sorts

A difficult truth for each of us to grasp is the fact that we do not control the outcome of events despite our best efforts to do so.All things will occur as they are meant to and in accordance with the scheme and schedule of the universe.

To fervently desire a specific outcome is hope. To understand that all things happen as they are supposed to is faith.

When we live a hopeful life tempered and strengthened by faith, we are seldom really disappointed.

He looked so pale and tiny in the hospital bed with the IV tube in his arm and the ventilator over his mouth and his closed eyes so dark and sunken into his face. His skin was so white that it seemed almost transparent; I could see the blood vessels like tiny blue spider webs in his cheeks, arms, hands and, especially, his paper-like eyelids.

Despite what I had come to expect from movies that I'd watched, there was no harsh rasping sound of labored breathing, nor any constant electronic sonar-like noise coming from the monitors to which he was attached. His breathing was actually hardly audible and the machines in the room were, for the most part, silent. In fact, that is what struck me as I sat there alone with him… the remarkable silence.

My rage had turned to tears and finally my tears had all been shed and there was nothing left but hope and patience as I gazed at him.Even with the ventilator obscuring part of his face and his body so wan and ill-used, he was beautiful and I was content knowing that he was under the finest care available and that everything the doctors had told me was positive and encouraging.

I was satisfied just to sit and watch him. I rejoiced at every small movement of a tiny finger and every slight flutter of an eyelid. I reveled in the fact that, though still pale… almost blue, his skin now felt soft and warm… the warmth of life.

I sat in the dark room and held his little hand in mine and watched him knowing he was safe and that he would recover.

I was content.

I was sitting with my back to the door of his room but I knew when it was opened because the brighter light of the hallway and the residual noise suddenly interrupted the quiet darkness I had been sitting in. Turning my head I noted the solid figure of Doctor Gilbert as he approached the bed with a slight acknowledging nod of his head in my direction.

After he had spent a few moments examining the little boy in the bed and making some notes on the bedside computer that served as the medical chart, he came and pulled a chair next to mine and sat down. He placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke in his soft but confident baritone, "Well Eric, I know he looks just terrible to you and the ventilator makes the whole thing almost frightening but, we're going to see some vast improvement very shortly."

"I'm having the IV changed and we'll slowly bring him back to consciousness and I'm going to have the ventilator removed. He'll have no problem breathing on his own. The concern has been that guy's sustained use of the sodium thiopental which was never intended to be used in so prolonged a dosage."

"He'd been using it to keep the boy in a constant state of sedation and such abusive application of that drug could easily have led to a fatal overdose. We've been concerned about damage to his lungs and pulmonary system but I'm happy to tell you that our tests have all come back negative in that regard."

"Once we have him awake we'll getting him eating as soon as we can though we'll keep reinforcing that nutrition with the IV."

I know I was looking at him gratefully but, before I could speak, he continued,"Now, I've got to tell you that we still have a very real apprehension that there may be liver or renal damage to deal with. That was a lot of barbiturates for one little body to have had to try and metabolize. Tomorrow we'll be able to run a series of tests that will give us an indication as to whether we're in the clear or not."

"Now, my suggestion to you would be to go back to your hotel, have something to eat and get yourself cleaned up… you look like crap and I don't think that's what you want the little guy to see when he first wakes up. Be back here in about three hours and you should be right on time to see him open his eyes. I'll be here then as well so I can have a look at him."

***

"I'm sure you want to be alone when he wakes up, Eric, but as soon as possible the Professor and I would like to see him OK?" I was sitting in my underwear at the table in my hotel suite devouring a t-bone steak and a baked potato wonderfully stuffed with cheddar cheese and bacon. I stopped long enough to take a sip of my beer and smile at John and Doc Swaim who sat at the table with me each of them sipping on a whiskey and water.

"I'll find out from Doctor Gilbert what the best set-up for visitors will be and I'll let you know. But, of course, the main thing guys, is to get him better… or at least well enough so that we can take him home."

"Amen to that," muttered the Professor pushing his black rimmed glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose.

"Eric…" he spoke softly but looked at me with a serious expression that indicated that he was not about to make small talk.

"Do you remember what you… do you remember the things you said to John and me when you were so frightened and angry?"

"I said a lot of things Doc."

"I know but I'm speaking about what you said about Sean and your feelings about him. Do you remember what you said?"

I chewed much longer than the wonderful mouthful of meat required, swallowed and then took a sip of my beer. "I remember very well Doc. It came to me in a flash but very naturally when I thought I might lose him. He's my son, Doc. I love him… remember our conversation, Doc when you told me that I had to decide what I wanted my relationship to be with him?"

The big man nodded solemnly and his glasses slid back down to the tip of his nose.

"Doc, I love HIM! I don't love the idea of him. I don't love having a little kid around. I Love him. I love Sean and I want Sean around. I want to watch him grow up and help him along the way so that he grows into the fine wonderful man he should be."

"I want to be there when he stumbles and when he succeeds. I want to understand when he's petulant and even rebellious. I want him and I want him for the right reason, Doc, because I love him and I love what he'll grow to be."

"So then, you're planning on actually adopting him?" asked John with a smile on his face.

"Only if it's something he wants. Only if he understands and loves me as well. I won't force anything on him because there are so many other possible alternatives for him. At some point I'll find the best way to present the choices to him and let him make the decision. Nothing will ever again be forced on him in his life. I can promise you both that. I can only guarantee that unless for some reason he insists on it, he's never going back to that training ground for whores I took him from."

They both nodded and I turned my attention back to my steak.

***

Without the respirator he looked so much better… more like he was simply sleeping.

"He'll be coming around in just a few minutes so I want to give you a heads up on a few things." I'd found Doctor Gilbert and a nurse and a technician were already in the room when I returned.

"First off, he's going to remember very little about this entire ordeal. That's one of the many legitimate uses for this drug and, in this case, though the drug itself was abused, the amnesia effect is actually a blessing. He'll be groggy and confused almost as if he's hung over but he won't have a headache like a hangover. His throat may be sore and he'll probably cough a lot. That's typical until the drug is completely out of his system which may take a couple of days. Don't let the coughing concern you."

"I'm going to start him on soft food right away but, if he does as well as I think, he should be able to try solids by dinner time." He took my arm and guided me over to the window out of earshot of the nurse and technician.

"Eric, I know you're wondering, but have either been afraid or reluctant to ask. There is no indication that any sexual abuse took place." He was looking at me intently.

"The fact that he'd been stripped and kept naked would indicate that the bastard probably had intentions in that regard but the quick work of the FBI prevented it from occurring."

"Thanks Doctor," I said with a half-smile.

FBI, my ass! I thought. It was the quick work of Walter and his people who I'd since found out were dubbed 'Skuggor'. That was the Swedish name for 'shadows' and no doubt paid homage to Walter's Swedish heritage.

It was Walter and his Skuggor who had prevented it. My mind reeled at the thought of the long sessions with Walter and Uncle Phil that lay ahead of me. My life was going to be changing in many significant ways it seemed.

"We're going to leave you so that you can be alone when he wakes up. I'll be back in to check on him in about an hour." He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. I returned the smile and walked over to the bedside and sat down to wait.

It was a very short wait. The doctor had hardly left the room when Sean's eyelids began to flutter. I watched in quiet anticipation as they flew open. He closed and opened his eyes in rapid succession as he tried to focus and when he finally did, a look of complete confusion came over his face. Reflexively I reached out and stroked his cheek softly and his eyes darted in my direction. The bewildered expression remained on his face for a few moments and then he smiled at me.

"Was I sleepin? Mornin Eric." He was confused again. He glanced down at the IV attached to his arm and his eyes shot back to me. "Where am I? What happened? Why do I feel so woozy? What… what's goin on Eric?" He was beginning to panic. I took his hand in mine and leaned over so that he could see me and me alone.

"Shhhh. It's all right Sean. There was a little bit of a scare but everything is fine now. You're in the hospital right now." Confusion and then fear crossed his little face.

"It's all OK, now. Everything is fine… you're fine." I couldn't help it; I leaned further down and kissed his forehead. "Do you feel like sitting up a little bit Sean?"

He nodded his head and began a series of dry coughs just as I'd been warned he might. I pressed the control for his bed and with a soft mechanical whine he raised up into a semi-reclining semi-sitting position. For the first time in days I saw a 'Sean smile' as he acknowledged the wonderful bed with delight

"Man I'm woozy, Eric," he said almost to himself as much as to me. "I'm really thirsty. Could I have something to drink?"

The nurse had left a large plastic cup of ice water fitted with a flexible plastic straw on the side table. I handed it to him and showed him how to adjust the straw. He took several long sips and smiled again as he handed the cup back to me.

"Better?"

"Lots!" he nodded his head. "Man oh man I feel icky!" he was running his free hand through his greasy matted hair. "I bet I'm a really stinky boy right now, huh?"

"Nah, you're the most beautiful boy in the world right now and nothing can change that, little man."

I was rewarded with a grin and a giggle. I thought my heart was going to break with joy. I patted him on his arm… I couldn't keep my hands off of him. It was as if I needed the reassurance that touch provided.

"You know, when we get back home, the first thing we're going to do is place your big overall championship trophy on the shelf in the Samurai Sean room."

He gave me a puzzled look. "When did I win that? I don't remember winning that." Then he was silent for a bit and I could see his wonderful little mind working. Suddenly he looked up at me intently.

"Eric, the last thing I remember was you told me how good I was doin' and then I was walkin' to the pool for the race and I felt funny about somethin' an I wanted to tell you something but I couldn't think what it was. So, I looked at you, 'cause for some reason I wanted to and something made me blow you a kiss and give a wave. Did I swim the medley? Did I do good?"

I was choking back tears that I desperately didn't want him to see. I swallowed hard three times before I spoke. "Yes Sean, you swam the medley." I was stroking his hair softly as I spoke. "You swam the medley and you did great. You set a new state record for the event and, by wining that, you also won the best overall trophy."

"The one like Kyle's?"

"Yes Sean, the one just like Kyles."

"Am I gonna gedda see it soon Eric?" I nodded in agreement and said, "I'll ask John and the Professor to bring it with them when they come to visit you this afternoon OK?"

"Kay!" he smiled and coughed simultaneously. A little frown appeared.

"Don't worry about that cough, Doctor Gilbert says its normal and it will go away in a couple of days."

He nodded and reached for his water cup. After a few good sips his face got very serious. "Eric, if I tell you something will you promise not to laugh at me?"

"I'd never laugh at you Sean. What is it, little man?"

"Well… I think that for a long time I've been with Kyle."

I was startled almost out of my chair. "What?"

"I've been with Kyle." He was nodding his head vigorously and looking at me keenly.

"I remember I was walkin' along this road… really a path and I didn't know where I was or how I got there but, I wasn't afraid or nothing. I was just walkin and then I heard a voice say 'No Sean, you're not supposed to go there yet. Come with me I'll keep you safe'. I turned around an it was Kyle. I recognized him from his pictures and he took my hand and we walked a different way an pretty soon, Eric, we were in the cave up on Hawks Hill an we were sittin aroun' the fire ring and he was telling me stories and making me laugh."

He looked up at me to see if I was listening and to try to gauge if I believed him. Satisfied with what he saw, he continued, "Every now and then, somethin' would call me and I'd walk out of the cave to try an follow it but Kyle kept comin' after me saying 'not yet Sean come back inside with me. I'll tell ya when it's time' an we'd go back into the cave."

"One time, I remember, some voice asked me a question. I don't remember what it was but I knew the answer, 'Red Cat'. I said 'Red Cat' and then Kyle led me back inside the cave. It was like that a lot and then one time he said, 'It's OK now Sean my brother is here to take you home' and we walked out of the cave together and he kissed me an I kissed him and then he kissed me again an said 'that one was for Eric' and then he pointed down the path an I turned to look an I saw your face an I was here."

I was crying and I couldn't stop. I'd been certain over the last five days that I had cried enough for a life time but it would seem that was not the case.

"Do you believe me Eric?"

"Of course I do Sean, of course I do. You had to be somewhere. Why not with Kyle so he could keep you safe?" He crooked his index finger at me beckoning me to bend down close. As I did, he reached up and pulled my head down and kissed me deeply. As he broke the kiss he smiled and said, "That one's from me, I'll give you your kiss from Kyle later."

It was at that moment that Doctor Gilbert came into the room.

"Hi Sean, I'm Doctor Gilbert. Do you mind if I have a look at you?"

"Hi Doctor," he replied and I backed away from the bed to give them some room. I withdrew into a corner of the room and called John to ask that they bring Sean's trophy with them when they came to see him.

"How is he Eric?" asked John with genuine concern.

"Confused, but, all in all, I'd say he's OK. He doesn't remember any of it. He was dreaming about other things the whole time and that's probably a good thing. There won't be a great deal of mental trauma for him to get over. We'll be here a couple more days, it seems, until the Doctor gives him the all clear and then we can head for home."

"I've been thinking I'm going to let you and the Professor fly back; I'm going to rent a car and drive home with Sean. We'll split the trip up into two… maybe three days… it'll give us time to talk and I'll make the trip fun for him."

***

I was walking down the hall toward Sean's room having taken a break to grab a hamburger and make a couple of phone calls. There was the sound of laughter coming through the door and as I entered the room John, Doc Swaim and Doctor Gilbert were sitting around the bed and they were all laughing.

"Can I get in on the joke?" I asked as I crossed over to the bed.

Doctor Gilbert pointed to Sean's trophy which had been on display in his room since the Professor brought it by for him to see yesterday. "Sean was just telling us that this was his favorite trophy that he never remembered winning." We all laughed this time.

"Well, little man," I said as I ruffled his now clean and shinning hair "I found out yesterday that there is a video of the whole race. It's being delivered to me tonight and we can watch it together and cheer. I understand the kid that wins it is terrific." That earned me a dazzling 'Sean smile' and chuckles from everyone else in the room.

"Has Doctor Gilbert given you the good news yet?" I asked.

"I have not, I've been waiting for you to get back but, now that you're here…" he turned and looked directly at Sean. "I've done all the tests I need to do, your cough has just about gone away completely, you're eating like a normal little boy, AND today you've done the most important thing as far as hospitals are concerned."

"What did I do today that's so important Doctor?" he asked wide eyed.

"You went poop, of course. We never let people out of the hospital if they haven't gone poop… why, there was this kid a couple of years ago up on the fifth floor that just wouldn't poop for us. He was 12 when he came in here and we couldn't let him go until he was 15 and FINALLY he went…"

"Doctor Gilbert you're foolin!"

"Well, actually only about that last part. Anyway the news for you is tomorrow morning we're going to discharge you. You're outta here big guy."

"I gedda go home? Really?" and then he looked at me apprehensively. "I'm going home with you, right Eric?"

"Of course you're going home with me, silly! Where else would you go?" he looked at me but he didn't say anything but his smile returned only to be quickly replaced by a large yawn.

"Well, I'll leave you to say goodnight and I'll see you one more time in the morning Sean."

"Nite Doctor Gilbert."

"We should be going as well" said the professor indicating himself and John. "We're flying back in the morning and we'll take this big trophy with us so it will be waiting for you when you get back, Sean."

"Why aren't we all flying back together?" Sean asked with a look of great concern.

"Because you and I are going to drive back, little man. I figured we'd take two or three days and make a little vacation out of it, OK?"

"Kay… that sounds cool Eric." I noticed that he was fighting to keep his eyes open. I reached for the control and lowered his bed so that he was reclining and I pulled the blanket up to cover him. As I glanced down at him I saw that he was sleeping.

Before I returned to my hotel suite, I stopped off at the nearest mall and picked up a couple pair of jeans, a couple pair of shorts, some underpants and socks. Although I had his gym bag and his overnight bag from the sports complex, I didn't want him wearing anything that reminded me of that terrible weekend.

Back in the hotel, John and the professor joined me for drinks out on the balcony. We were looking at a state map and planning out an interesting route for my drive with Sean. "You know, when I was a kid my father took me here." He was pointing to a spot on the chart, "and we went on a whale watching cruise. It was great… I loved it!"

"That's actually a wonderful idea," The professor chimed in, "It will be exciting and educational and I still think that nothing gets the heart pumping and the blood churning quite like sea air. This time of year, the humpbacks are still in mid migration and so you should get to see a good number of them as well as the mandatory dolphins and orcas. You should do it Eric."

I studied the map a bit longer and then said, "Look at this. I think this will be great. If we head out east and up into the mountains, we'll be in the National Park by late afternoon. We could spend the night there and all of the next day. The following morning I could cut southwest and be here in Santa Anunciacion in the early afternoon. We can take a whale watching cruise and spend the night there by the ocean and make it back home the next day without even pushing it."

"From the mountains to the sea in one short trip. Great idea guys… how about one more round and then good night?"

***

The hospital had all of the paper-work ready for my signature when I got there in the morning. After signing everything they required, I took the elevator up to Sean's floor. He was sitting up chatting with Chandra, his day nurse, and he flashed me a gigantic smile when he saw me enter the room. I handed him a bag that I'd put a change of clothes in. "I thought you might like to wear these. That hospital gown you're wearing is snazzy and all but, to tell you the truth, your butt hangs out the back."

"Aww it's a very cute butt, Mr. Tucker!" Chandra laughed and patted Sean's shoulder. "You get dressed honey and I'll be right back. I know Doctor Gilbert is planning on seeing you both before you leave."

"Were you able to shower this morning Sean?"

"Uh huh. Nurse Chandra had to stand outside the door while I did it, though. I guess they think I'm gonna fall down or something." He was out of bed and standing naked going through the bag sorting out the clothes I brought him. He fished out the underpants and was stepping into them as he spoke. "Know what else?"

"What else Sean?"

"I made sure I pooped again this morning an' I made sure Nurse Chandra knew it. I'm not taking any chances getting stuck here."

I chuckled but tried not to be too obvious about it. Doctor Gilbert walked in just as Sean was pulling on his dark blue polo shirt.

"Well, I see you're determined to leave us, eh young man?"

"You bet, Doctor Gilbert! You're a neat Doctor and everybody here is nice but I want to get back home."

"Well, I don't blame you one, bit Sean. Eric, I've forwarded all of the records from this visit to your personal medical people and I've written some cautionary instructions for you just in case something unusual should occur." He handed me a thick envelope and then shook my hand.

Turning to Sean he shook hands and said, "You're a wonderful brave young man and it has been my pleasure to be you physician these past days. I wish you a safe trip home and a wonderful life and now, here is Nurse Chandra with your chariot."

The large black nurse had entered the room with a wheel chair. "Hop on honey and I'll ride you down to the door."

"How come I gotta ride in a wheel chair, Doctor Gilbert? I thought you said I was all right?"

"Oh you're fine Sean; it's just a hospital rule. You can't be discharged if you don't ride out on a wheel chair."

Sean thought about it as he sat down in the chair. "Oh… it's like how you haffta poop first huh? Boy you sure got some silly rules about getting outta this hospital Doctor."

***

An hour later we were cruising down the road in the red Cadillac Escalade I'd obtained for the trip. I glanced over and saw that he'd fallen asleep. The Doctor had warned me he would be sleeping a lot the next few days; 'sedation is not really sleep' he'd explained. I didn't care, it would be a boring drive until we got to the foothills anyway and this gave me the opportunity to look at him.

In just two days, his color had begun to come back and the black circles around his eyes had almost disappeared.

I glanced up ahead. The sky was a blazing blue and the road before us was open and straight.

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