The following is a story of gay fiction. If the subject matter is offensive to you or you are too young, please exit now. This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced without permission. John Tucker, JETjt@aol.com
SUPER JEFF
Chapter Sixteen
JEFF'S POV
I couldn't believe Amanda! It was like a new person had come home. She was truly nice. My mind was just saying `Whoa! When is the volcano going to erupt?' I'm glad Ed agreed with me. He'd been around her so many times over the years that he knew the real Amanda, at least the old one. I really loved the new Mandy, and I for sure wasn't going to break the spell, but out of self-protection, I wasn't going to swallow the hook completely. I liked Mandy's new boyfriend Rick Forbes too. I wasn't sure if Ben's hunch was valid or not. I mean, it's not like Mandy hadn't been around a gay brother for years. If Rick was gay, I'm pretty sure that she'd know it. I thought it fairly certain they'd been together in the sack too, so unless he was an extremely skillful actor, I doubt that he could fool her. Maybe he wasn't a number one straight guy, but I thought he was at least a three, on a scale of one-to-ten. I'd like him even if he was a number 10 gay, because he seemed so nice, but I'm sure that would end up in sorrow for my sister, which in spite of our history as siblings, I didn't want.
Dinner and the evening went well. It was nice getting to know Rick and we all had a comfortable, fun time exchanging quips and stories. Around 9 o'clock when there was a break in the conversation Amanda pulled me aside.
"Jeff," she said, "Could we talk privately for a while?"
"Sure Mandy," I said smiling. "I'd like to talk with you too. Let me make our excuses, then we can go into the office."
She nodded and I found Chris.
"Chris Babe, would you act as host with Rick and Ben? Amanda and I need some private time. It might be an hour or thereabouts."
"Yes Cute Guy. I'd be glad to," he replied with an accommodating smile. "I noticed that there were a number of subjects that you two skated around in our conversation during and after dinner. Please tell her for me though, that I really am impressed with her, and like her a lot."
"I'll do that," I promised, grateful for his help.
Turning I saw that Amanda had already headed for dad's study. I followed and closed the heavy paneled door behind me. She was seated in one of two comfortable armchairs that faced the fireplace. I took the one that was vacant.
"Chris is playing host," I announced. "I hope that's alright. By the way, he told me that he is very impressed with you and that he likes you a lot."
"That's sweet. I'm no expert in gay love, but I'd guess that he's a keeper," she replied with a sweet, genuine smile.
"You're the only one except him that I've told this. I'm sure I've lost my heart to him," I admitted.
"I'd say you're both lucky. What do you think of Rick?"
"I'd say the same thing that you said about Chris. He's a keeper. I'm sure that his family is socially prominent but he seems unspoiled by it^Åmaybe a little bit stiff, but unspoiled."
"It's the stiff part I like the best," she said playing with my response.
I laughed and then responded, "I'll bet."
"Just keep your mitts off of him," she said laughingly, "he's mine."
"I'd never dream of cutting in on you Mandy. You're my sister."
"I guess that's what I wanted to talk to you first about," she began. "While we were growing up, I was a real bitch to you. I'd like to apologize."
In spite of my shock, I quickly replied, "I accept your apology, if you'll accept mine. It takes two to tango^Å or is that tangle?"
"Both I guess," she said, looking more at ease.
"Do you mind if I ask what brought on the change in you?" I asked.
"Oh, I guess I always had a self image that I was too good for everyone else. When I got to college I found two types of girls that I associated with. One was like me, the hoity-toity rich bitches that were stuck on themselves. If you think I had my nose in the air, you should meet some of them! Yikes! I'm surprised there was oxygen up that high! The second group I really got to know were the people in the dramatic arts. For the most part they were very real, even though they were also good actors. I found that I liked them a lot more than the `Society Chicks'. I liked the guys too, even the ones who were gay. Unfortunately I was one of those people I didn't like. One of the girls in drama named Carol was nice enough to overlook my attitude and we became friends. She was everything I wanted to be: nice, pretty, down-to-earth, genuine and loving. She took me under her wing and had to ignore my outrageous behavior more than once. We eventually became not only friends, but best friends after I found myself deep into a slow, but strangely satisfying attitude change. During the few times I came home during that time period, I reverted back to my former persona. I'm not sure why. This time though, I'm hoping you see the real, changed me."
"It's a you that I really like," I said sincerely. "I guess I don't quite get it though: you got off your high horse to mingle with the masses, then end up with Mr. High Society? It seems strange to me."
"Let's just say that Rick and I got off the same kind of horse and we found each other."
"That's cool," I smiled. "What's Rick studying?"
"He's going to be a lawyer," she replied.
"Actor=Lawyer^Å. Good match," I kidded. "A good lawyer is also a good actor."
"I never thought of that," she said laughing. "Wait `til I tell Rick you said that."
She continued, but changed the subject.
"Tell me about Chris and Ben," She queried. "Also I heard that your friend Donnie Smith was killed in an auto accident. I'm really so sorry."
"Thanks," I said. Her mention of it brought my mind around to tomorrow's visitation. Clearing those thoughts quickly, I recounted again the events that had occurred since school was out. She listened with rapt attention without many comments. When I had finished, she sat back in her chair mulling over what I had told her.
"I'm amazed little brother," she started. "I never knew you like that. I always thought that you were like me, too into yourself. I like the new Jeff too and want to know him better."
I smiled, grateful that we had found each other in a way I'd never known or believed possible. I guess she was right. I'd changed too.
"I guess you can thank Chris for that," I explained. "I was immediately attracted to him, but he's done more for me than I have for him. I guess for the first time I'm enjoying the view from the ground, not from the lofty heights. Because of that, I've found that I've gotten back far more than I've given."
"Humility becomes you Jeff," Amanda said with a small but genuine smile.
"Likewise," I replied.
"I think that since I've come home, my transformation is now complete," she continued. "Even on the way here, ugly thoughts kept coming into my head. I guess I was getting ready to battle with you again. When I finally got my thoughts calmed down, I realized that you were more of a credit than I had ever admitted and I decided to make a conscious effort to be nice. I knew too that we had to work together through this family crisis."
"I wondered if your niceness was an act," I admitted, "but I liked the new Amanda so much that I didn't want to break the spell."
"Thanks for being honest, baby brother. I must admit that at first it was pretty much a put-on. Then I felt welcomed to my own home in a way I'd never felt before. Rick noticed the difference in me too and told me so. He liked the kind and considerate Amanda he was seeing, the one who wasn't temperamental. I hope that being decent is no longer an act. Quite frankly I'm tired of the pretense."
"I'll do my best to keep a cool head and not tempt you to switch back," I promised with a grin that belied my seriousness. "There's too much to gain."
"Let's change the subject," Mandy said. "What are we going to do about Mom and Dad?"
"I don't understand." I questioned. "What can we do?"
"I didn't mean about finding them. I know that's out of our hands," she replied. "I meant, what are we going to do if they don't come back?"
"I can't believe that they won't," I said. "When I heard they were missing, and later when it was reported that they were dead, I just couldn't really believe it. I don't think I really would have been fully convinced until their bodies were in front of me. I was going through the motions, but that's all. Somehow I just didn't believe that God would take them away when finally it looked like they would become real parents, not just husband and wife with kids, if you can understand the distinction."
"As well as you understand it Bro," Amanda replied. "I hope you're right, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't plan. We might not know whether they're alive or dead for a long time. What do we do in the meantime? What do we do if they really are dead?"
"I guess we should have a meeting with Ed," I answered. "Dad said he gave Ed power of attorney while they were gone."
"We need to find out more about our parents' financial assets, even if we ourselves can't touch them," Mandy asserted. "We need to find out what provisions they made for us. I know we could survive on just our trusts, but what about the house? Is it paid for? Can we afford to keep it if it isn't? I know it's not important right this second, but we need to talk more about what we want to do as individuals. I'll be 21 soon and so I'll be an adult in every legal way, but what about you? You have a few years to go yet. We need to think and find out about these and other questions before school starts and I'm gone. Hell, I'm not even sure what the parents have reserved, if anything, for our education. If there's no money set aside for mine, I may have to come back here and go to a state school that I can afford with my trust money."
"I get your point, Mandy," I said. "To be honest I haven't thought too much about it. I should though. It could affect not only my future, but Chris' too, and maybe even Ben's. I'll call Ed tomorrow and we'll have a meeting. In the meantime, let's write down any questions we have so that we don't waste his time."
"Sounds great SJ. We'd better get back in with our guests," Amanda said. "Give the Sis a kiss."
"Eewww! I'd never kiss a girl!" I said.
"Okay for you!" she said, acting hurt. "Then how's about a hug?"
We broke up laughing as we embraced. It felt good.
The next morning I woke up beside Chris. I watched him as he slept. He was so beautiful and so loving. I think he must have grown an inch in the last month too. He's now almost as tall as I am and if his growth spurt continues, it will be Chris calling me Shorty. Ha, Ha.
Yesterday was so full of mixed emotions that it's hard to remember what caused what. I expect that today will be no better, though I know I'll feel sad at Donnie's visitation. Even though we weren't best friends, we were good friends. I'll miss him. My mom once told me that everyone you know has an influence on you and becomes part of you. Everyone you know `rubs off on you' and vice versa. Your family and close friends have the greatest influence, and you have the greatest influence on them. She said that after years together many couples begin to act and talk like each other. She explained that that's because they want to please each other and eventually develop mannerisms and speech patterns that are like their spouses. Then too they get to know their partner's mind and know their partner's answer before it's given. Kids develop those things from their parents too. I guess in that way when we die, we live on through the people we've touched and influenced. It sure gives some room for thought.
Chris is waking now. I could just stay with him right here for the whole day. He's such a joy to be with and so cute too.. I could be anywhere with him and be happy. My only real wish is to make him happy too. It's too bad in some ways that our future careers will often separate us so that we can't be together all the time. I'm sure that's good, but right now as I look at Chris, for the life of me I can't understand how.
"Mmmm^ÅMorning Babe," Chris murmured sleepily.
"You're awake now I see," I said with a happy smile.
"Yeah, can we just stay in bed?" he asked with a tired, but tempting wink.
"'Fraid not pumpkin," I said regretfully. "I'm thinking that we might have time for a little frolic though before we have to go down and meet the new day."
"I'd love that," he said almost with shyness.
"Me too," I agreed.
RICK'S POV
Amanda is a perplexing woman. Nevertheless, in some ways we have much in common. We both come from wealthy society backgrounds, though some in the East would argue that there is not any society west of NYC, at least none that counts. I'm sure that our backgrounds gave each of us, as we grew up, unrealistic views of the real world. I know that mine did. I think I began to realize that, even in prep school. I began to notice that there was a different life led by others outside the prep school campus and the walled enclosure of our estates. At first it was just curiosity. As I grew older I began to venture outside of those walls and planned events, and found real people, people who were nice even if they were challenged financially. Although a few of my comrades in school were nice and seemingly unaffected by the wealth of their families, most I began to realize were stuffed shirts with an unearned attitude of self importance. Once in college, I found a new mix of people. Even then it was not totally realistic. I mean, you don't go to Harvard unless you have bucks or are so intelligent that you can get a scholarship. We had bucks, though tests proved that I was no dummy either.
Pre-law was a challenge because of the high grades needed to get into law school. At the end of the year I'll face law school which, I'm told, is a real bitch. I'm working hard as an undergrad to make grades, though my family's endowments to Harvard are probably enough that I could probably get in even if my grades weren't stellar. I wanted to get in on my own merit though, so I've attacked my studies with a vengeance. Once I got into the pace of school, I found that I still had time for other activities. I'm not into sports, though I'd given them a try from time to time with some success. What I really enjoy is the theater. I've been to Broadway plays and seen everything from drama to comedy, and once or twice even ventured as far as the Met to see opera, at my parents' insistence. I enjoy the local theater more. In the vicinity of school there were at least three companies where drama could be seen. I not only went to see their productions, but a year or so ago, I even volunteered to help as a stagehand. It was there I met Amanda. At one rehearsal soon after I'd begun volunteering, I'd taken a seat out front to watch a rehearsal of a play where there were mostly young actors, some students, some a bit older. One of the actors, a very cute girl took my breath away. She was so good and so attractive that not only were my emotions responding, but so was my body. After one very good scene I couldn't help myself but say in a low voice, "Bravo!" I looked around to see if anyone could have heard me, since they took a dim view of people making noise, other than the actors or the director. I saw nearby in my aisle a young lady who had obviously watched and heard my display of enthusiasm.
"I agree," she said quietly, with a friendly smile. "She's very good."
I blushed a bit, knowing that I'd been caught.
"She's my friend," the attractive young lady added proudly. "Her name is Amanda Richards."
My mind grasped that name like a trap holds a bear. I couldn't believe that I hadn't seen her before. "Do you both live here?" I whispered.
"We're students, and this semester we're roommates," she responded. "We probably shouldn't be talking. Stick around and I'll introduce you when the practice is over. It should be soon. By the way, my name is Carol."
My smile was so big that you could have been blinded by the glare from my teeth.
"Thanks Carol, I will. My name is Rick." I said as quietly as my pent up emotions would allow. We both turned our heads and again watched the action taking place on the stage.
Twenty-five minutes later, I met the girl of my dreams. I fell instantly in love. She seemed to like me too, though I wasn't sure how much. Apparently it was enough though, because the very next day she agreed to a dinner date on Sunday, the only day when there were no rehearsals.
It was there at that dinner that I began to know Amanda Richards. She was a strange person. Much different than I imagined she would be. It was like there were two people inside her. Most often she was a true delight. At other times another side of her personality was exposed. I knew the type well: `Rich Kid, Spoiled Kid.' I stayed away from that type as much as possible. In spite of that, I knew I had to keep seeing her.
In getting to know Amanda, I also got to know her friend Carol. Once while I was waiting for Amanda to finish getting ready to go out, I commented to Carol on my observations of her roommate. Carol smiled, nodded and then said that if I really was interested in Amanda that I should be patient. She said that Mandy, as she called her, was in conflict with her upbringing and was just beginning to see the real world. Over time I saw that she was right. In the meantime, I was careful to downplay my family's wealth and social position. I told her that my family was in the printing business, which was like saying that the President is a politician. She, likewise, told me that her father was in medicine and that her mother was a teacher. Both revelations were true but were gross understatements.
We continued to date, both during the summer when she was playing summer stock, and during school. During that year I saw her snob' side diminish to rare flare-ups. While I'd always wanted her physically, I knew by then that I wanted to be in her presence to share my life with her, a feeling much more intense than merely wanting her body. I could feel that she was starting to feel the same. In the Fall, I'd asked her to go steady and she agreed. It was afterward when we first became intimate. Then, as Thanksgiving approached, I knew that it was time to take her home to meet the family. I asked her out on a special date,' where I intended to `come clean,' about my family and background. We discovered that we'd played the same game. It was impossible to be upset about the deception since we realized how really alike we were, having tried the same trick. We ended up laughing. It was then I asked her home for Thanksgiving.
When we reached my parents' home, she was more than a little impressed by the estate, yet said very little to my parents, except for politely expressing her admiration of our home and her gratitude for the invitation to visit. My parents loved her, which made things much easier. She handled my parents' `third degree' interview like she'd come over on the Mayflower. I was concerned that she might revert to her prior attitude being in such surroundings, but she managed to keep her head, coming across as a sophisticated, cultured young woman, seemingly unconcerned about material trappings except for the beauty and tastefulness they conveyed. It was the right combination to impress my parents and their attitude toward her reflected their acceptance of my choice. When we were ready to leave, my father took me aside and advised me not to lose her. I was more than happy that Amanda had made such a favorable impression.
On the way back to school, we talked about when I'd get to meet her family. Her parents and younger brother lived in Palos Verdes, California. We both expressed a desire to go there as soon as possible, but decided that it couldn't be at Christmas, since Amanda had committed to be in a religious play about the birth of Christ just prior to that holiday. We decided instead that we'd each visit our parents very briefly at Christmas, then travel back, meeting at Carol's who had extended an invitation for New Years at her parents' home near school.
In the spring things began to fall apart for Mandy. First she got word that her parents were missing in Europe. She was told by the government that it appeared that her folks were kidnapped while in England, and that it would be best if she would come to Washington D.C. to meet her brother who was coming from California. She made preparations to go and I offered to go with her. She accepted, but then on the morning we were to leave, she called and said that the Government had sent someone to tell her that her parent's had died in a car accident. I rushed to her side. Even though aggrieved, she took the news better than I expected. Once the initial shock was past she explained that her parents were much more detached from her and her brother than would normally be considered ideal. Their careers and success, along with their preoccupation with each other, had left her and her brother Jeff, often on their own. She confessed too, that in spite of that, her relationship with her brother was worse than poor. Admitting that she had been much of the cause of their enmity, she expressed her sorrow that it was so.
Later the same day, she was called by her parents' lawyer that her parents' bodies would be returning soon to California for burial. She told him that we would be returning to her parent's home the next day if we could get a flight. He promised to pick her up at the airport and take care of the arrangements for her parents' funeral. They agreed to keep in close contact.
When I had called my parents about the unexpected happenings with Amanda's parents and about my plans to accompany her to California for the funeral, my father asked me to express their sympathies, then requested that I also take care of a small business matter in L.A. while I was there. I thought that it would be best to get it over and out of the way, so I told him I'd like to be picked up at the airport, to be later transported to the home of Amanda's parents once my task had been completed.
On the plane to her home, I could see her expressions change as her personalities waged war with her emotions. She vocalized little though at first. We then began to talk about her `moods', and she finally told me of the struggle with her rich-bitch persona. I told her that I loved her, and that she could count on me for support. She smiled and thanked me.
After retrieving our luggage at LAX, we met Mr. Macgregor, the lawyer that she had talked to. It was obvious he had more than just a business client-attorney relationship with her parents, but was also a friend. We loaded our luggage into his car and they departed. When they were gone I took the limo that my parents had sent for my errand. Once that task was completed, we headed for Palos Verdes.
Upon arrival at the large and beautiful mansion, I was greeted at the door by a man I presumed to be their butler. Before I could do more than announce myself Amanda flung herself into my arms. Once we had exchanged greetings' (heh, heh), she introduced me to her brother Jeff, his boyfriend Chris and their black friend Ben. I was somewhat overwhelmed. Jeff was gorgeous and the spitting image of his sister in a definitely male format. Chris, his boyfriend, was equally attractive, yet with a softer, less assured demeanor. As a black guy, Ben was the champ. His Sugar Ray Leonard looks were only slightly marred by several small, but not unattractive scars, probably resulting from his life in the hood.' If I wasn't straight and in love with Amanda, I'd have seriously considered switching sides if any one of the three would have considered playing ball with me.
The three of them immediately made me feel most welcome. It seems that Mandy's changing attitude had settled into the persona I loved the best, that of a sweet and simple, but classy, gorgeous girl. Apparently she and her brother were making an all-out effort to be nice because there was no indication that there had ever been strife between them. Then came the real surprise! Jeff announced that there had been a mistake and the dead bodies in England were not their parents! It was confusing though, because the badly burned bodies had been found in the Richards' rental car along with Dr. Richards' credit card. The FBI had been in contact since the discovery and surmised that the Richards might have been kidnapped. That was the situation when I arrived.
After a wonderful meal served by Frank, the chef who I'd mistakenly thought was their butler, we had a pleasant evening getting acquainted. Later in the evening Jeff and Amanda went into their study, presumably to discuss their family and personal situations privately, subjects which heretofore they had avoided in our company. During that time, Chris and Ben kept me occupied and entertained. Whatever the earlier conflict between Mandy and Jeff might have been, it appeared to have vanished permanently in that hour as evidenced by the way they left the study, arms across each other's shoulders and laughing.
DR. MEL'S POV
Our capture had been unforeseen. After two wonderful days touring the English countryside we felt like school children on holiday. We were free from the pressures of medicine as well as academia for the first time in what seemed like years. As we began to unwind, our romantic interest in each other had rekindled the spark that the years had tried to extinguish. We were again totally and fervently in love. It made us realize too that our careers had made a mess of our relationships with Amanda and Jeff. We promised that we'd do all we could to eradicate whatever damage we'd inflicted upon our children immediately upon our return home. As we began our return to London, we stopped often to inhale the sights and sounds of this beautiful land. Getting off the main thoroughfare we took country roads as a detour, just to escape the hubbub of the industry of civilization. At one juncture as the winding road topped the crest of a high hill we saw the magnificence of the countryside laid out before us. Jeffrey pulled to a widened spot off the macadam and we climbed out of the small coupe to stand in awe of all we could see. A piece of the view was a tiny country village where we decided to stop for lunch and a `pint'.
Re-entering our vehicle we checked the traffic and saw a lorry approaching the hill behind us. It was still far enough away so we pulled back on the roadway and proceeded toward the small hamlet. Once there we found a place to park and walked from our parking place toward the front entrance of a tiny pub. I looked back at the hill from which we'd viewed the village and saw that the lorry had stopped at the crest too. I could see several figures but thought nothing of it. After a pleasant lunch Jeff paid the bill and then together we stepped outside to find our car. As we rounded the corner of the building three men jumped out and grabbed Jeff who struggled until they placed something over his mouth and he folded like a tent. When I saw that Jeff's attempts to resist were futile, I turned to run, trying to escape but my efforts were no more effective than his resistance. Two of the men grabbed me and one quickly slapped a piece of tape across my mouth as the other removed his hand that had been placed there to prevent my screaming. In minutes we were bound, gagged and blindfolded, then thrown bodily into the back of the lorry where our captors joined us.
The vehicle began to move out of the small village. We rode, bumping and bouncing, for what seemed like hours in discomfort and pain. Finally arriving at our destination, we were removed from the vehicle and taken into some kind of building. I was led by one of the men and the others must have carried Jeff who remained unconscious. We were taken into an inside room where I was allowed to relieve myself in a small adjacent bathroom. My hands were untied and my blindfold was removed so I was able to take care of the necessities without aid, though the door was left open so they could see me at all times. Jeff began to regain consciousness. As I left the small bathroom two men stood Jeff up and half-dragged him to the small bathroom and helped steady him while he relieved his bladder. One remained in the large room with me. Once that task was completed, Jeff was brought out again and placed on a bed where he was given a hypodermic injection. He quickly lost consciousness. He was untied and his gag and blindfold removed. While that was taking place I had been placed in a chair and ordered to remain there. I could discern that we were locked in a room that was equipped with barred windows. I was left untied and conscious, but instructed to tend to my husband should he awaken.
We remained in that room for a second day and night. . I thought of escape, but could see that it was impossible, and even if I were successful it would mean leaving my unconscious husband, which I was unwilling to contemplate. At one time during the second day Jeff began to regain consciousness. The men reentered the room again taking Jeff stumbling to the bathroom, then giving him a small glass of water before injecting him again. This time they also held me and injected me. That's all I remember.
Sometime, much later, I awoke in a new room of captivity. Once I became cognizant of my surroundings, I realized that Jeffrey was no longer with me. I began to panic but fought to retain my senses, convincing myself that Jeff would be returned shortly.
The door to the room was obviously not designed for sound attenuation. I could hear clearly two men arguing on the other side in a language that was not English. I listened carefully trying to make out what they were saying. I immediately recognized that they were speaking in Aramaic, a language I'd recently extensively studied, and had become more than passably fluent, even in technical and religious terms. I could understand that they were interested in Jeff, as I recognized the words for doctor,' and illness.' The door muted some of their words but I found myself following most of the conversation with ease. From what I could glean from their conversation, we were taken prisoner so that they could take advantage of Jeffrey's medical skill in treating their leader. It had to be serious though and probably dealing with cancer, since that was Jeff's specialty. It was obvious that they had money, and power too, I reasoned. We had been captured by several men and they had to have extensive planning capabilities, plus the ability to transport us out of the country. I was certain that we were no longer in England. I could see no clouds in the sky through the small window of the room, the architecture of the building I was in was not English, and the air was hot and dry. Whoever it was, had to be important. But why the subterfuge? There was something missing from my deductions. If I knew where we were, maybe I could figure it out.
DOCTOR JEFF RICHARDS' POV
After I awoke, a bearded man came in to the small room that looked like a patient room in the hospital. Mel, I was told, was awake and nearby. I had protested our separation, but was summarily ignored. Answering my questions, I was told that we were in Syria and that I'd been brought to examine and treat Osama Bin Laden who had been diagnosed with cancer. The man then left and I was given the morning to rest and consume the small plain lunch that had been provided. I had washed up as well as I could and put on fresh clothing that they had thankfully brought along. When I finished eating I scrubbed my hands carefully in the small washroom. Like most doctors, I never traveled without my medical bag. Thankfully they had brought it along as well as my clothing. I opened the bag and saw that the contents were undisturbed. I sat back down on a small wooden chair that was provided and waited, pondering our predicament.
Since I had been told who the patient was, I was torn with conflicting emotions. As an American, and a humanitarian, I abhorred the killing of innocents by zealots in the name of their religion. The inhumanity they displayed in their senseless killings in New York, London, and Madrid, as well as less known attacks elsewhere made my blood boil. Like most, I wanted revenge. Yet here I was, a doctor, called on to attend and cure the leader of those beasts who were wantonly waging a war of terror on civilization. The leader, the most reviled evil man of our times, had killed thousands without mercy, yet was asking for my help to live. The Hippocratic Oath that I'd taken to save lives was in direct and wrenching conflict with my emotions that demanded retribution and justice.
On a more practical plane, I believed without doubt, that if I failed to cooperate, both Mel and I would be killed and would probably be subjected to torture before it happened. I knew that I had no choice but to try to save our lives if possible. It was while thinking those thoughts that the door opened and I was beckoned to follow the dirty looking man that appeared in the doorway. I picked up my bag and followed behind him.
After a short walk, during which we saw no one, we arrived in an area that appeared to be examining rooms. In front of one door sat two men armed with Russian Assault Rifles. They stood as we approached and looked menacingly at me, the hate burning in their eyes. The man leading me ignored them and pushed open the door before stepping inside. I was on his heels as he entered and stopped. I stepped up beside him.
He announced our arrival in Aramaic or whatever language it was. I looked to see a man in a dirty white robe seated against the wall near the examining table.
"Leader Bin Laden," a translator standing next to the seated man intoned in English for my benefit, "before you is the infidel healer, Doctor Jeffrey Richards as you ordered."
The man in the chair stood with some difficulty and a smile could be seen through his unkempt beard. He began speaking in his language, and the interpreter translated.
"Welcome Dr. Richards," were the repeated words from the translator. "I trust your journey here was not too uncomfortable."
"It was tolerable I suppose," I answered. "I was sedated the entire time."
"For that I apologize, but it was necessary," the robed man responded with a slight bow. "My name is Osama Bin Laden."
"May I ask why we were brought here, and what you plan to do with us Sir?" I asked with more politeness than I was feeling.
"If you cooperate, you and your wife will be returned, unharmed to your children, Amanda and Jeffery," he replied through his interpreter.
In spite of my surprise that he knew our children's names, I nevertheless challenged his promise. "Do you swear that in Allah's Name?" I asked, knowing that only such a vow had any meaning to him.
When he heard the translation, he became angry, and then slowly regained control of his feelings.
"It is I, not you, who determines whether or not you live," he said sharply.
"And it is Allah, not me, who determines when we all shall die," I said with a determination not to be intimidated.
He smiled.
"That is so," he agreed. "Allah however has given some of us special skills. It is your skill in healing that is needed now."
"A man does not provide a willing, nor skillful service when his life and that of his family is threatened," I answered, still determined not to bow to intimidation.
"If that is what is required, then it shall be given," he acquiesced. "I pledge that if my treatment is successful, you and your wife will be returned unharmed to your land and your family," he declared with a raised hand. "I make this vow in Allah's name."
"Thank you. I hope you realize that I cannot promise full healing," I hedged, "unless it is also Allah's will."
"And I cannot promise the return of you and your wife unless I am healed," he answered. "Do we understand each other?"
"Completely," I responded with resignation. "Now, let's begin. What have the doctors told you so far?"
"It seems that I have a tumor, presumably malignant, in my abdomen. The fools here seem to think that there is no one here who can treat it. On their recommendation we looked for the most respected specialists in the world. We found several and had decided to eliminate all American doctors but then we discovered that you were traveling in Europe and England. Although our operation to bring you here was executed somewhat clumsily, I'm pleased to say that it was successful."
"I would like to start with a brief physical examination, and then review your records before recommending a treatment. I'm sure I'll need a medically astute translator for the review, or a doctor who is fluent in medical terms in English," I said. "I'll also need to know what modern medical diagnostic equipment is available."
"We'll look for a suitable doctor fluent in English, but I'm not sure we can get one here quickly," he stated. "In the meantime, I think we should begin with the examination. I will then give instructions that you are to be provided with all you need or desire in order to give the best possible diagnosis and treatment. You will be surprised what can be done when there is a proper incentive."
He smiled the evil smile that the world knew so well.
I almost spoke but decided to hold my tongue, at least until I had more time to think. I had brought an excellent translator with me, my wife Mel. Was the advantage of using her to translate worth them not knowing she was fluent in their language? I wasn't sure. On one hand she would be an invaluable assistant, but with them not knowing that she could speak their language, it could save our lives as they would feel free to speak their language in our presence. I'd decide later.
"Mr. Bin Laden," I requested, "please disrobe and take a seat on the examination table."