“Not Tijuana!” Chet argued, “Nogales. Or better yet, Juarez.”
When Chet's picture hit the papers they left Vegas in a hurry, moving
to a quiet motel on the outskirts of Boulder City and away from cameras
of any sort. There they counted their loot, did a number of transactions
at a local bank which Ivan tried to disguise the best he could and then played
catch up for several days. It was an unsettling week for Ivan. After Chet's
picture came out, he started checking the minds of Penn's associates again,
something he hadn't done even once since coming to Vegas. That lapse was a
major mistake. To his horror he learned Penn was now looking for Bart and
himself as well. By not paying attention to the obvious, he put all three
of them in jeopardy. Through the minds of four men formerly from the Ann Arbor
stake-out, he saw the steady build up of agents scouring Las Vegas and realized
not all were from Penn. Now FBI agents were in on the search. From the orders
the men received, Ivan knew they were on to him. The word came from someone
named Moore. Look at photos, don't believe your eyes.
“Tijuana's closer.” Bart replied as they got into the van. He leaned forward
from the rear seat and started playing with Chet's hair. “God,--- it's so
soft,--- like spun silk!”
“Gee, I'm glad you think so, but I still don't want to go to Tijuana.
It doesn't feel right. I can't explain why.” He looked helplessly at Ivan.
”What's up with Bart? “
“Juarez, it is.” Ivan replied, “He's horny.”
”Chet's right about Tijuana,--- they use cameras at the crossing.” Bart
tossed off like it was a well know fact.
“They do?” Chet asked in surprise.
“Yep, and you know how great I am with cameras.” Ivan replied, the irony
all too evident in his voice.
“Poor baby,” Bart responded, switching his attention to Ivan, “Come back
here and sit on my lap. Let me make it all better.” He and Ivan communed
in silent exchanges while Chet turned the van onto US 93. They crossed the
dam and soon entered a stretch of divided highway. Ivan reclined the seat
and was sitting loosely relaxed, his eyes closed the way he did when checking
the thoughts of far-off minds. Conner was Ivan's closest contact to Penn
but at the moment he was in the shower and looking forward to a cup of coffee.
“Nothing new there.” He raised the seat in a single motion. Chet glanced
in the mirror and laughed. In the quietness of those few moments, Bart shed
his pants. He sat on the back seat naked to the waist.
“Jesus, Bart, we're on the freeway. Put your pants on,” Chet watched as
Bart stroked himself.
“Well, pull off someplace, I need a little lovin'“ he continued stroking
his cock which was now visibly beading in the morning sunlight.
“Man, he's really horny!" Chet laughed.
“Yeah, “ Ivan replied, “last night, too. Didn't you notice? “
“I noticed he about wore me out.” Chet smiled, “Of course, I like that
kind of wear and tear.” he again glanced at Bart. ”Are you gonna' take
care of him,--- or am I? “
Ivan checked the traffic. A few trucks in the offing, but nothing close.
He slid between the seats to sit beside Bart. Chet glanced in the mirror
in time to see Ivan take Bart into his mouth.
“Ah, that feels so good, Babe.” He wove his fingers in Ivan's hair and
began urging him downward. In only a few minutes he cried, “I'm coming.”
and he held Ivan's head firmly in place as he emptied himself in Ivan's mouth.
Chet got hard watching the action. It was this way for him for the last
six weeks; just being around the two men turned him on. Perhaps it was because
Ivan maintained a little intermittent flow of energy between them all, what
Bart was feeling, Ivan felt and thus Chet felt it as well. In a few moments,
Bart and Ivan changed places. He pushed Ivan to the center of the seat, while
crouching on the floor, his feet extending between the front seats, almost
to the console. Chet couldn't resist. He reached back and grasped Bart's
cock. It was still nearly hard.
Bart turned and smiled at him. ”You're next,--- so get it ready,
'cause I'm gonna suck your lungs out.” Then he dropped his face on
Ivan's rigid piece. Chet continued playing with Bart, enjoying the intense
little bursts of sexual feeling Ivan sent him. A three way on the freeway,
he thought as he played with Bart's heavy balls, rolling them through his
fingers. Bart loved it. Flexing his back he pushed hard against Chet's hand.
Engrossed in what was going, Chet didn't notice the semi pulling out to pass,
but when the guy went by he gave three long pulls on the air horn. No doubt
about it, he saw the show. Bart never raised his head, he just kept on until
Ivan moaned in climax. Finally he sat back on his haunches while Chet continued
stroking him. Bart leaned forward, kissed Ivan and said, “Chet's turn.”
Pulling to the shoulder long enough to change drivers, he and Ivan swapped
places, and then it certainly was his turn. Bart was like a dynamo
wound to maximum. He stripped Chet and himself, dropped the seat into a
bed, then began laving Chet with his tongue. It went everywhere and where
his tongue went his cock soon followed. Through it all, Ivan was too busy
to watch except in his mind. He was throwing up false memories at the semi
drivers who were now passing every minute or so. Damned CB radios he thought.
After forty minutes of gymnastics, Chet was sated and weary, while Bart
remained as energetic as ever,
“Help! Can't you turn him down? “
“Hey, I tried,--- I think he's stuck on 'high.' I can't figure out what's
happened to him.”
In an attempt to slow the fire that raged through Bart's libido, Ivan
tried making him drowsy and that seemed to work. Bart drifted off into a
fantasy world of sexual encounters with truck drivers and Cops; strange,
confused dreams of being a sex slave, and then a tribal chief performing
sexual rites of passage on strong young warriors going into battle. As the
wild dreams wound through Bart's mind, Chet dressed and joined Ivan in the
front seat.
“He's never been like this before.” Rather upset by the sudden change
in Bart, Ivan transferred the dreams to Chet who saw in them what Ivan missed.
Everyone in Bart's fantasies was in some way reminiscent of Ivan or himself,
but mostly Ivan.
“Take a closer look at those fantasies.”
“I see your point, only he's just so damn wound up in it.”
“Oh, I know what that's like. There were times when I couldn't get enough.”
Chet pulled up the memory of an orgy in a bus terminal bathroom. He was in
his twenties at the time and in the Army, “I could have blown the whole damn
Navy that day. Haven't you ever felt like that?”
"No, I can't say I have. I get involved on a different level. I think it's
the feedback that makes me satisfied with only one.”
“Or maybe two? “ Chet 's memories were filled with scenes of the three
of them in bed.
“Or two.” Ivan agreed, grinning. “What are we going to do about
Bart? “
“Beat's me, just keep him occupied I guess. It passes, you know. Tomorrow
he may be back to his old self.”
“Ah, but can we keep up with him for that long? “
“ Well,--- I might,--- with a little help from a friend.” Chet joked.
He reached over and touched Ivan's face, “Don't worry, he loves you more
than life. I've known that since we met.”
“He loves you, too. We both do.”
“But not in the same way. I'm just a friend,--- to be sure,--- a very
close compliant friend, but only a friend.”
“More than that, “ Ivan protested, “you're a part of us now.”
Chet glanced back at Bart and smiled fondly.
“I suppose I am; only, you two are connected at the soul. I've been there
with Jim, I know what it's like.”
Chet was content being a third party. True, he envied the depth of feeling
Bart and Ivan held for one another, but only because he once knew that feeling
himself. After all these years he still missed the utter comfort Jim brought.
Yes, he envied them. They were mated, like two a sided of a coin. He could
touch either side or both at the same time, but there is no third side to
a union like that.
“You can't forget Jim, can you? “
“Could you forget Bart? “
“No, I suppose not.” Ivan probed gently. Now might be a good time to let
Chet know about those hidden memories.
“He certainly was a handsome man, I can see why he caught your eye. Did
you both work for White Consolidated? “
“No, Jim worked for,--- huh,--- that's funny, I don't remember. He traveled
three days a week, so it must have been for one of the sales outfit in Greenville.
DAMN, why can't I remember that? He was out of town Wednesday through
Friday every week."
“It was a long time ago, don't worry about it.” Ivan soothed. “He
did died young though, only fifty-four?”
“Fifty-three.” Chet corrected, “His birthday wasn't until,--- until,---”
Chet looked at Ivan helplessly “WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER? Are you doing this or
am I going crazy? “
“Please, you know I wouldn't screw with your head! And you're not going
crazy. You're blocked, that's all, I saw it a few days ago, but I'm not
sure what caused it.” Ivan was interrupted by the sound of a siren. He glanced
in the rear view to see a State Police cruiser closing fast. The cop shot
by at close to a hundred and a minute later a T.V. news truck followed in
hot pursuit.
“I wonder what that's all about. Did you notice? That T.V. truck is from
a Vegas station. Must be something big going on! “
Something big, indeed. They topped the next rise to see a long line of
stalled traffic and beyond that a plume of smoke rising from behind the next
hill. Suddenly, the plume turned into a fireball. A mushroom cloud, like
a miniature atomic explosion filled the skyline and a moment later the van
rocked from the shock wave.
“What the Hell was that?” Chet exclaimed.
“I don't know, the cop went by so fast I didn't get a chance to read him.”
Bart came awake groggily,
“What's going on?”
“Nothing, Babe, go back to sleep.” Without a word, Bart lay down and started
to snore.
“He's still in heat," Ivan explained, “I can't deal that and whatever
else is going on up there.” Pulling to the side of the road, he flashed,
<< You drive,--- I'll do some checking. Some of those semi drivers
must know what happened. >>
Actually there wasn't much more driving to be done. Traffic was piling
up fast. On a hunch, Chet pulled the van to the inside lane and onto the
divider. If they had to turn back, this was as good a place as any to cross
over. Ivan settled into his outward reaching mode, sifting through the drivers
who had passed them earlier. One fellow at the top of the next rise presented
him with picture of the devastation below. An LP gas tanker truck or what
was left of it lay in a twisted scrap heap that included the remains of cars
and several freight carriers. The explosion had left the man's ears ringing,
the resulting rain of shrapnel shredded his truck, but left him unscathed.
He knew he was lucky to be alive, there were plenty of others who weren't.
The man was helping with one of them. A child in the car ahead with a gaping
ragged hole in her chest where a piece of flying metal hit her. He knew
it was hopeless, but still he tried to stem the bleeding. Ivan pulled back
in horror from the sight and cast about for others while running fast scans
on everyone in his memory. Another view of the accident. In a moment of shocked
recognition he realized it came upon someone he thought was in Vegas, one
of Fennman's men, a rather dim bulb named Shea that Ivan first read in
Ann Arbor. Someone was dressing him down, someone not in Penn's employ, that
much was evident from Shea's feeling over the matter.
“You fucking idiot! A traffic tie up, NOT WORLD WAR THREE. How the hell
am I going to explain this mess? Too bad you didn't get your stupid, fucking
head blown off. Jesus Christ,--- Jesus H. Christ,---”
Agent Riley, FBI, Shea's thoughts said. Fire trucks and ambulance crews
began arriving from Kingman on the opposite side of the disaster and that's
where Shea was, Ivan realized. He sifted the man's memories. The accident
was intentional! Shea's orders were to block traffic with a minor accident,
only Shea mistakenly chose a blind spot for the deed and caused a major
pile up instead. Shea barely got away alive. First a semi truck struck his
overturned motor home and another ran into that, bursting into flame. Cars
careened across the desert on both sides trying to avoid the accident, and
then the tanker came over the hill. Shea ran for dear life, throwing
himself behind a rock outcropping just in time. He was scorched all over,
his hair singed, cuts still dripped blood and this FBI asshole acted like
it was all his fault. He wasn't about to take any more of it.
“Fuck you!” Shea shouted, “I did what you told me, if you don't like how
it turned out, tough, fucking shit!”
Ivan saw the fist coming just in time to pull away.
<< It's a set up! Somehow they traced us. The accident was supposed
to be a diversion, only it went sour. How the hell did they do it? >>
He flashed all he learned to Chet. Chet thought about it for a moment.
He might not have Ivan's ability, but he could sort through the obvious.
<< The van! They've traced the van. You can't fool eyes you can't
see. They must have had crews out at night. >>
<< Of course. SHIT, I'll bet they've got a locator attached. Jesus,
maybe even a bug in here. Don't say anything out loud. >>
They were very careful in Bolder City. The manager of the motel would
sweart a single woman rented the room, not three men, and they always parked
the van in the overflow lot of the motel next door. Each morning Ivan scoured
the neighborhood, picking the brains of all he met. There was no indication
of anyone asking question during their whole stay at Boulder City. Of course
when he wasn't around, a passerby saw the van for what it was. The regular
license plate changes should have been enough since Ivan could always tell
when a plate was clean. He simply read the owners before they switched them,
but Chet could visualize government agents being more far interested in
VIN numbers than license plates.
<< I wonder how long they've had the van spotted? >>
<< No sooner than last night, I'll bet. Otherwise I would have picked
up on it. Chet, they want us back in Boulder City that's why they blocked
the road. >>
<< Well, lets let them think they've succeeded. See if you can find
a bug, anything that looks different, only be casual about it. They've got
cameras now no bigger than a pencil eraser. >>
Ivan yawned and stretched.
“Looks like were stuck for a while. I'm going to take a nap.”
He slid between the seats to lie down next to Bart. Chet slipped a tape
of Kenny G in the player and turned the volume low. Tilting the seat back,
his eyes carefully scanned the console.
<< Found it! >> Ivan exclaimed. He was searching the
overhead, looking at all the little buttons that attached the plastic trim
to the van's metal framework. A couple of the buttons were missing, just
dark holes, only as he looked closer, one wasn't a hole, it was smoothly
capped. He continued searching.
<< I see only one, anything up there? >>
<< Nada. When you kill it, make it look like a natural failure.
Wait until we cross the divider, looks like plenty of jouncing on the way
over. >>
Other cars were all ready turning back. In ones and twos they wound their
way across the stone littered divider to the north bound lanes.
<< Before you cut the line, lets add a little diversion. >>
Chet outlined the plan and then said aloud,
“Maybe we ought to try Tijuana after all. Once we cross the border, Penn
can't touch me anyway and we're just wasting time sitting here.”
"As I said,” Ivan responded, “I'm no good with cameras, but Tijuana sure
is closer than Juarez.”
“And a hell of a lot closer than Laredo, but you're right,--- they're sure
to cover Nogales and Juarez like a blanket.”
Chet put the van in gear and edged out onto the divider. As they bounced
over the rocky soil, Ivan caused a spat of arcing inside the camera circuitry.
Finally as they came up on the northbound lanes Chet flashed,
<< Fry that sucker. >>
* * * * * * *
“We've lost the feed, Sir,” Agent Harris reported, ”Must have jarred
loose crossing the berm.”
“Is the tattletale still working?”
“Yes, Sir, loud and clear. They're headed back to toward Boulder. Only
I can't figure out why we didn't nab them when they were stalled in traffic?”
“We have our reasons. Well, what do you think, Harris, could you recognize
those three if you saw them in the flesh?”
“I've all ready seen them in the flesh, and once was enough, thank you.
But, yeah I'd recognize them anywhere.”
“Think so, huh? Funny, no one else can. Let me tell you, Son, those
three have done some pretty strange things. They stayed for five days in
Boulder City and the motel manager swears it was a lone blond woman renting
the room, not three men. There's a lot more here than meets the eye.”
Harris shook his head,
“Too much has all ready met the eye as far as I'm concerned. What a disgusting
show, and Latham a pervert, too! Who would have guessed?”
“Does that bother you, Son?”
“Yes, it does. Watching that raunchy shit turned my stomach. How can men
do that to each other?”
“Odd, what I saw wasn't much different than what men and women do.”
“But, Sir, that's normal sex. Sure, a guy might do some of that with a
woman, but doing it to another man is disgusting.”
“Why is that?”
Unable to give a coherent answer, Harris shot back,
“Are you saying it's okay?”
“I said nothing of the sort. I asked why it upset you so much.”
“Because,--- because,--- it's not normal. Whatever men and women do, is,---
normal, I mean.”
The man laughed heartily while Harris reddened over his stumbling lack
of words.
“Son, you've got a long way to go. In the vault are pictures of men and
women doing things to each other that would make those three look like neophyte
choirboys. How people get their kicks is their own business. We're not after
them for swapping spit or sucking each other's dicks, it's because they're
deadly, dangerous men,--- or so I'm told. Our job is to catch 'em, not judge
'em, so keep that in mind. Now, what else did you notice,--- besides their
disgusting sex habits?”
“Well,--- they don't talk much,--- just look at each other and nod. It's
like they think the same thoughts at the same time.”
“I knew you were sharp. What else?”
“When the guy told the older fellow, Ludlow, to go to sleep,--- he did
it instantly. He was snoring almost before his head hit the bed.”
“Excellent. Now tell me what it means.”
Harris looked at him blankly.
“You just laid it out, Son, so tell me. Think science fiction.”
“Uh,--- well,--- maybe they read each others thoughts, and,--- and, not
Latham, but the other guy can put people to sleep. He controls minds.”
It all fell in place for Harris. ”That's why no one can identify them!
The guy can blank out memories!”
“Now you're cooking,--- and that possibility is why we're herding them
back to the dam. It's one place we can contain them without exposing ourselves.
The guy can't handle cameras, remember.
“Ah, Perseus and Medusa.” Harris muttered.
“Exactly.”
It had been a rough morning for Senior Agent J. T. Moore, but at last
things were looking up. He slapped open a cell phone and punched a single
button,
“They're on their way. You have less than an hour, and no screw-ups this
time, Gentlemen. Call me when you're set.”
It was finally going in the right direction at last, he thought. Riley
raised holy hell when the three got away, but it was his own damn fault. Moore
was thankful he wasn't in Riley's shoes right now. Shit was gonna hit the
fan big time over this one. The reports were grim, seven dead, a dozen injured,
all because of Riley and his gung-ho tactics. Cover all exits and shoot to
kill was his motto. Flush them to the dam Moore argued, only Riley overruled
him and split Moore's team into two groups, neither large enough to do the
job in time and the van slipped through. All this because Riley wouldn't
listen to reason. Well, maybe he wouldn't be commanding much longer. It was
a thought that took the sting from Riley's tongue-lashing.
The phone rang,
“All set,--- tight as a vault and with enough gas to handle a herd of
elephants.”
“Good, now remember, everything by remote. I don't want anyone exposed.
Make sure you double team everyone, for all I know this guy can see around
corners.”