Super Jeff

The following story is a work 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 Twenty-eight

TYLER'S POV

I was more than a little bit tired as the plane landed in Rome. The Chief of our station there, a short, rounded man with an unusual name, Giuseppe O'Connell, met me at the plane's extended ladder.

"Ah Mister Turner," he said extending his hand for a shake as I stepped on the tarmac, Welcome to Roma."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O'Connell," I said with a tired smile, "and please call me Tyler. I apologize for getting you out of your home on Saturday."

He smiled, sweating in his light colored suit.

"Think nothing of it Sir. I'd be pleased if you'd call me Gus," he replied. "How did you find London and Berlin?"

"I'm afraid I was in neither place long enough to make any qualified judgments," I confessed, "though both places were much cooler than Rome, I must say."

"Yes," Gus agreed. "Even the Roman emperors escaped to Capri in the summer. In fact the Popes, in order to escape the heat, liked to travel to the mountains of Avignon in France in the Middle Ages. Some liked it so much that they stayed, so we finally had to boot the last one out and get a new Pope who would stay home more," he said with a grin. "Most of Europe is on vacation this month so Rome is practically empty during this heat."

I looked at the heavy traffic as we got into his car, heading for the hotel where I'd spend the night.

"It's a bit hard to imagine that," I commented as we weaved in and out of the bedlam.

"This is nothing," he commented taking his hands off of the wheel and gesturing.

Grabbing the wheel again, he dodged a Vespa motor scooter which had the audacity to cut in front of the Fiat sedan in which we were rocketing.

"Damned tourist," he said, only half in jest. "No Italian would ever do that. They'd have been dead long before they ever got to his age."

I laughed. I liked Gus.

"We're putting you up at the Hilton," he informed me. "We have nothing planned for you tonight since we know that it will take a bit of rest to get your legs back after your long journey. I'd be pleased though, If you'd let me buy you a cocktail or two as well as dinner."

"I'd be most pleased to do that as long as we can make it an early night," I agreed. "You're right about one thing. The trip is tiring even in a jet with the accommodations that ours have."

"It's only a shame that you don't have time to really see our city," he lamented.

"That's something that will have to wait until I can visit with the family," I declared, "though from what I can see it's beautiful and would be well worth the trip."

"I'm sure you'd enjoy it," he declared, "as I would enjoy Las Vegas in your United States. I hear it is a fabulous place."

"Yes, the casinos and entertainment are great," I conceded, "Most people don't realize that for most of us who live there, it's just a city in which to live, with houses in neighborhoods, grocery and drug stores, shopping malls, schools and all the other things that typify a growing American city. Except for those who work there, the locals rarely spend time on the Strip, and even then it's only when company is in town."

"Yes, I suppose it's so," he said. "What we see on television is much different from that."

"I'm sure that the impression that we get about Rome through the media is also far different from reality," I countered. "At least if what I'm seeing is reality."

"True, true," Gus agreed. "Well, here we are," he exclaimed as the car careened to a stop in front of the hotel. "I'll have the valet park the car once we have your luggage."

I was happy to get out of the small vehicle with my life! Rome was not a place I'd care to drive, I concluded. I'd hate to be on the same roadway as Gus, and if he was a typical Roman driver, heaven help the unprepared. Gus gave defensive driving a new meaning.

A bellman quickly extracted my bags from the back of the small car and led us to the check-in desk. Gus tore past me when I moved to the back of the small line as he dashed to the counter. "Mr. Turner has arrived," he said with a slightly raised voice.

"Ah Mr. Turner," a suited man said with a smile as he bade me to approach the counter away from the other people checking in.

"I'm Mr. Franco, the Manager," he explained. "Welcome to the Roma Hilton. You're room is ready, if you'll just sign here," he said sliding some prepared paperwork onto the counter and handing me a pen, indicating where I should sign. As I did so he clapped and the bellman with my luggage moved toward us.

"Thank you Mr. Franco," I said smiling. "Now if I could get your bellman to take my things to my room, Mr. O'Connell and I would like to visit your bar.

Clapping again to get the bellman's attention, Mr. Franco said, "Antonio, please take Mr. Turner's luggage to the Royal Suite. Then return the key to him in the bar. Make certain that everything is perfect in the room before you leave."

"Yes Sir," the cute bellman said in English. "I'll not be long Sir," he promised after looking at me."

"There's no hurry," I assured him, as I again turned to the manager. "Thank you for your courtesy Mr. Franco."

"It is our pleasure to serve you," he said with a bow.

"The bar is this way," Gus said, taking my arm, guiding me away from the counter.

"Lead the way," I said. "I'm ready to relax."

JEFF'S POV

Sir Reginald's manor house was huge. After we'd all had a round of cocktails, Sir Reginald suggested that Kayden take us on a tour of the house and grounds. In an hour we didn't get to see it all. The house was a mansion of great size. Kayden said it was around 3500 square meters, or more than 30,000 square feet! That was 20,000 square feet larger than my parents' home in Palos Verdes. It took us 25 minutes just to go though most of the house, looking not only at the rooms themselves which were gorgeous, but at the artwork that adorned them. Skipping a lot of the guest rooms and servants' areas we spent the balance of the hour in the gardens. Las Vegas compared to Southern California is a desert wasteland, and Southern California is a wasteland compared to most of the English countryside. I must say, the English take their gardening most seriously. The estate was probably 30 acres, all of which was manicured. In some areas it looked wild but that was because it was meant to look wild. If you looked carefully however, you could see that the normal rubble of woods, such as broken branches, dead trees and other litter of a truly wild forest, were not present. Damaged trees were either removed or pruned. The "manicured" gardens around the main manor house were of the "English Country Garden" design which was open, with vistas of lawn between clumps of woods. There were also tree-surrounded mini-gardens that were each small jewels with a theme, such as an oriental garden or a rose garden. Unlike the French type garden, the English garden was far less formal, with plants that "looked" natural, even though they were specifically pruned and nurtured to look that way.

As we finished our tour outside, the absence of direct sun which had set below the trees a half hour earlier, cast a quiet serenity over the gardens. Reentering the manor house, Sir Reginald and his partner, Geoff announced that dinner was nearly ready and offered us another cocktail before dinner. We thanked them and declined, preferring not to work ourselves into a buzz that we might regret in the morning, particularly when we expected alcohol in the form of wines, to be served with dinner.

The English have an international reputation for being poor chefs, but if the fare at dinner was any gauge, the reputation is poorly founded. After salad, bread and soup, the entree was excellent with perfectly prepared lamb served with mint jelly on the side, with escalloped potatoes, stuffing and fresh green beans. The dessert was a delicacy of a spider web dome of hardened chocolate over fresh peach ice cream surrounded by red raspberries. It was all delicious.

All during the meal, I couldn't keep my eyes from meeting the gaze of Kayden. He was a brilliant conversationalist, funny and fun to be around. After the meal we all retired to the `smoking room' for after-dinner drinks. Reggie, as he asked us to call him, and Geoff were excellent hosts, making sure we wanted for nothing. As we relaxed with our drinks and/or coffee, Reggie's face lit up.

"I say, I have a capital idea! Jeff, Chris, would you mind if Kayden and a friend accompanied you on your golf outing?"

"Of course not," I said immediately, knowing that the scenery of having Kayden around would be worth the trip by itself.

"We'd like that," Chris agreed.

We looked at Kayden, who after a moment of pondering, smiled.

"Yes, I can make that work," he said accepting for him and his friend.

"Do you think that Terrance will be able to go?" Reggie asked his son.

"I'll ring him up directly," Kayden promised, "if you'll excuse me."

"Certainly my boy," Reggie permitted. "Take your time."

"Who is Terrance?' I asked.

"He's a friend of Kay's from school. Nice chap, good family and all," he explained. "I think they're sweet on each other."

"Kayden is gay?" Chris asked.

"I'm afraid so," Reggie said. "I'm afraid it's a condition of one poof begetting another. I'm sure he won't mind me `outing' him. It's pretty obvious that you and Jeff are partners."

Chris blushed and I myself was taken a bit aback.

"I wasn't aware we were that transparent," Chris remarked as his face returned to its normal color.

"Oh you're not," Reggie said, "at least to the average straight person. If you're gay and sensitive to all the little `signals' lovers give to each other, it's not a matter of rocket science to see that you two are in love."

"You've got that right," I confessed.

"How long have you two been together?" Geoff asked.

"Only about 10 weeks," Chris answered. "It was love at first sight, at least for me."

"I feel the same way," I recalled with a wink, "one look at Chris' face left me very interested; one look at his body had me head over heels."

Chris slugged me in the arm as he blushed.

"Yeah sure," he said. "I was a skinny little toothpick."

"You're certainly not a toothpick now," Geoff remarked. "It's hard to imagine that 10 weeks ago you were thin."

"You can blame the slave driver Jeff for that," Chris exclaimed. "Besides stuffing me with food, he's had me running and exercising every darn day until I was exhausted."

"Then he's to be congratulated for creating a work of art," Reggie concluded.

The blood vessels between Chris' heart and the skin of his face got another workout.

"I mean that in all sincerity," Reggie added. "You both are quite handsome young men."

"Thank you Sir," I said. "You and your partner certainly were not standing in the back of the line when they handed out looks either, and your son^Å. he was first in line. He's absolutely stunning."

"Yes, that Kayden is a looker, right? Must have gotten it from his mother. She was a beauty."

"What happened to her?" I asked. "Please feel no obligation to tell us though. It's really none of our business."

"No, it's alright," Sir Reginald replied. "A bit easier for me to tell you than for Kay to, I'm afraid, he still takes it hard. ^Å. When Kayden was about 8 years old, his mother died in a motorway accident. It shattered his world since his mother, in spite of having nannies to care for him, spent an immense amount of time with the boy. I was always away on business. I guess I never was able to take her place."

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you and Geoff been partners" Chris asked next.

"Five happy years," Geoff replied. "At first Kayden had a period of some adjustment with our relationship, as did we. Kayden was about 12 then and was just discovering his own sexuality. I'm sure that helped."

"Did he know before that you were gay?" I asked Reggie.

"Yes, but not much before," Reggie answered. "I told him about the year prior I believe. It was about the time that I met Geoffrey. Of course we were not partners then. That took nearly a year. I was glad I told him earlier though. Nevertheless, in spite of the fact he thought himself gay, by the time Geoff and I became partners the trauma of finding out that I was too and in a committed relationship all at the same time, would have been a bit much I think. As it was, it was no stroll through the park."

"He seems to care very much for you both," Chris remarked.

"Yes, it's as good as it could be, I'd wager," Reggie said. "Of course he's away at school during the term, so we don't see much of him for a good part of the year."

"I'm not sure I'd like living away from home, especially as a youngster," I said.

"It's just part of the lifestyle for the upper crust in Britain," Reggie explained. "Has been for hundreds of years."

"It's difficult enough for me to be separated from my parents because of how much they work," I commented. "I'm sure that I'd feel totally rejected if I was sent off to a boarding school."

"I'd say that here, it's considered a wonderful place for social contacts. You have friends that you make for life. Many of the captains of industry here were school chums."

"You may be right," I conceded. "I'm just glad it's not the norm in America. I'm sure it will be difficult enough for me to go away to college next year."

"It's a go!" Kayden said interrupting as he burst into the room with a giant smile on his face. "Terry's all excited about the prospects. He loves golf and especially loves Scotland's courses."

"I'm sure it will be a challenge to us," I commented as he rejoined us. "There are very few links-type courses in the U.S."

"Just a bit of a change in playing style," Kayden assured us as he sat down beside me. "The heather roughs are murder and the greens won't hold, so you have to approach them by running up on them. Takes some getting use to if you're accustomed to the U.S. style courses. By the way, Terry's quite good. I'm only passable."

"I guess it might be best if you and I are partners then," I offered. "I'm the more experienced between Chris and me. You guys can give us advice on how to play."

"I hope you're talking about golf," Kayden kidded.

Reggie and Geoff roared.

"I'll work on your tee time at St. Andrews at first light," Reggie promised. "When are you leaving for Scotland?"

"Tomorrow late morning," I reported. "Tyler has arranged for a plane to fly us up there."

"Yes, I know," Reggie said with a smile. "It's one of ours. Just a Learjet, I'm afraid."

"The sports car of corporate jets," I said with a smile. "Young guys like that."

"It's a short flight," he said. I'm sure you'll be comfortable."

"Well it's about time for us old guys to retire," Reggie said as he leaned forward in his chair. "You two are welcome to stay here as long as you like. I'm sure that Kayden will be glad for the company. When you're ready to leave, just let Kayden know and our driver will take you back to your hotel. I should have invited you to stay the night, but I didn't think of it. I apologize."

"Think nothing of it. Our hotel is more than comfortable," I said as we all arose out of our seats. "We'll be leaving soon anyway. Thank you so much for your hospitality. It's been such a pleasure getting to know you."

"Thank you," Reggie said, extending his hand. "I'm sorry we're so rude to excuse ourselves early, but Geoff and I have an early engagement."

We all shook hands and with a final wave, Reggie and Geoff exited the room, heading for the stairs leading to the upper floors.

"I thought they'd never go to bed," Kayden said as we again sat down. "I hope too that you weren't serious about going back so soon."

"We don't want to overstay our welcome," Chris said.

"Nonsense! Would you be interested in going out clubbing with Terry and me? It's loads of fun."

"Can we get in?" I questioned. "I'm 17 and Chris is 16."

"Don't they have fake I.D.'s in America?" Kayden asked. "If I had a bit of time I'd get you both one, but I'm afraid they might question you about having an English driver's license. Your accent is a dead give-away."

"Sure we have them," I replied. "We keep them hidden in a secret compartment in our wallets. Wouldn't want to accidentally use them at the wrong time, you know?"

"Ha! Yes that could be a bit embarrassing," Kayden laughed. "I'll let Charles, our driver, know that he can go to bed and then I'll call Terry and tell him we're on our way. We'll take you to your hotel when we're done with our night out."

"Thanks, I'm sure that clubbing will be fun," I said.

"Yes, it's the pips," he agreed with a smile. "Let's move `em out, as they say in your westerns."

Chris looked at me with raised eyebrows. I just laughed and followed our gorgeous host.

"We'll have to take Reggie's Jag, I'm afraid," he said, indicating a British-green Jaguar sedan, "I'm afraid we'll never fit in my Aston-Martin."

"Damn Kayden!" I said, looking at the silver sports car beside the four door car. "Isn't that a DB-7?"

"You have a good eye for automobiles," Kayden admitted. "Dad got a bit carried away when he gave it to me. I guess it's because of the money that he got for the business. It was his way of apologizing for all the time he'd spent working instead of with me while I was growing up."

"I'd say that it's a hell of an apology," I said.

"Yes, quite," he concurred. "Now if one of you would ride in front until we get to Terry's I'd appreciate it. I hate feeling like a chauffeur."

"Not a problem," I said. "Babe, why don't ride shotgun?"

"Okay, but I'll miss you," Chris said with a wink.

Kayden laughed.

"I love you chaps," Kayden commented as he started the car. "I can tell straight off that we're going to be jolly friends."

"Gay friends, at least," Chris said.

Kayden laughed again at Chris' double entendre.

• • • It was 2:30 AM when Kay and Terry dropped us off at our hotel. It had been a fun evening, or smashing' as Kayden would say. We were taken to a gay club where our hosts were well known and we got in without a hitch. Since neither Chris nor I frequented such places in L.A. it was a new and exciting experience. The place reminded me of the Queer as Folk bar on TV. There was skin showing everywhere. Chris' eyes just about popped out of his head. We did some drinking and dancing, but mostly watched the crowd and the dancers'. Chris and I were hit on a number of times, but we declined the polite invitations. Kayden and Terry were not so reserved, engaging in some dancing, associated ass grabbing and frontal rubbing when an unusually attractive guy that they knew would ask. We just laughed and had a good time, avoiding the back rooms where, we were told, the real action was occurring. Even though it was fun, both Chris and I agreed that it wasn't our `thing', at least on any regular basis.

One result that the evening's activities had for us, was to increase our level of horniness, not that that feature required any assistance. By the time we got to our room, we could hardly shed our clothes fast enough. An hour later, after our levels of passion had been repeatedly drained, we sank into a deep sleep, still in each other's arms.

RON'S POV

Matt and I had offered to take Frank and Paul to the plane that would return them to Las Vegas. Dan graciously accepted our offer, as he wanted to spend the afternoon with his and Tyler's boys. By the time we got back, Dan called reporting that he'd talked a bit earlier to Tyler who was at the Rome Hilton for the night before going on to Israel the following day. Everything so far was going according to plan. I'm certain that Dan was apprehensive about Tyler being in such a dangerous situation, but he accepted it as part of Tyler's chosen profession, keeping his concerns to himself.

It had been fun meeting the Richards bunch. They were nice kids and a credit to their upbringing. Amanda, Rick and Jeff seemed perfectly comfortable with the adults in our household, while Chris seemed to relate more to our kids. I guess it's understandable, considering that their backgrounds were similar. At any rate I'm sure that we now have a really nice bunch of younger friends. I'm sure that all of us, including all our boys, kept Amanda and Jeff's parents in our prayers, as well as Tyler who was intent on rescuing them safely.

TYLER'S POV

I awoke early, still feeling a bit hung-over, not so much from the cocktails or dinner wine, but from the traveling. I had left a wake-up call but was awake when the phone rang. Answering it, I ordered coffee delivered to my room. I knew my feeling of disorientation would pass in a day or too and since it was not debilitating, I chose just to ignore it. The coffee I'd ordered would help as would my morning shower.

I was still damp with a towel wrapped around my mid-section when the knock was heard at my door. I answered it, allowing the handsome bellman to roll in the cart and place its contents on a medium-sized table in my suite. Tipping the man, I saw him exit, closing the door quietly. I could tell by his eyes that he was impressed by my body and perhaps a bit lustful. He was out of luck. My thoughts and my heart belonged to Dan my partner, and I had far more important things to do than to satisfy the animal urges with another man while I was away from home.

Selecting my wardrobe for the day I quickly finished my bathroom activities and dressed before sitting down at the table and helping myself to the coffee, fruit and sweet rolls that had been served. I knew that Gus would be by to pick me up soon. Even though it was Sunday, he wanted to take me by the office to show me where his operation was headquartered. It would thankfully have to be a short visit though as my flight was scheduled to take off at 10:30 for Athens. That flight would be short and my stay there only two hours, just long enough to complete the ruse of visiting our operation there.

Then it would be time to take off for Tel Aviv.

DR. JEFF RICHARDS' POV

I entered Osama's room to find him propped up in his bed and awake.

"Leave us," he told my companion with the AK47. The man looked a bit surprised, but did as he was directed, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Bin Laden noticed the door and shouted something in what I presumed to be Aramaic. The opening in the doorway disappeared. I walked to his chart posted at the foot of his bed. While I could not understand the notes not written in English, I noted the vital sign numbers and saw with satisfaction that there appeared to be no complications.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked in English.

"I'm a bit sore, and hungry, but other than that I'll be fine. Was the surgery successful?"

"Yes," I said with a drawn smile. "The tissue was removed and tested. It was as we expected, pre-cancerous and unlikely to have spread further at this time. I would suggest that it be checked again in six months after you're healed, then yearly after that."

"You seem to presume that I'll have a long life." he stated with a smile.

"Let's just say that I'm impressed with your resourcefulness." I said grimly.

"When do you want to start on my second problem?" he asked.

"Have the medications I ordered arrived?"

"Not yet, though I've been given word that they've been acquired and should arrive here within two days, at most."

"Then that's when we'll begin," I said, hoping secretly that by then we'd be rescued.

"I notice that they changed your room from the one you were in last night," I observed aloud.

"In my business, it's not wise to remain long in one place," he said. "Please sit down. I'd like to talk with you."

I sat, wondering where the conversation would be leading.

"Tell me a bit about the Hepatitis C treatment," he requested.

"In many ways it's similar to the treatment of HIV, except that there's not the `cocktail of drugs', but rather only two. The process is long, uncomfortable and expensive. Depending on how your body reacts to the medication during treatment, you may think that it would be preferable to die at times. I can only tell you that the success rate is favorable."

"How long do you anticipate the treatment to take?"

"That's a matter of some concern to me," I answered. "It is often one, but more likely two series, that are usually 48 weeks each in duration. Overall, the treatment can take slightly over two years."

"I perceive you think that it might be more than a bit inconvenient for you," he said watching my facial expression as I talked.

"Yes," I confirmed, "I'd suggest that you find a physician that you can trust to handle the treatment," I added. "I'd be happy to consult with him before the treatment begins."

"I'm happy to report that we've looked into that possibility and the prospects are good," he replied. "Of course we considered keeping you too."

"I'd never agree to that," I answered.

"I was sure of it," he said. "We took steps to insure your cooperation, but unfortunately those steps have not been successful."

"What kind of steps?" I inquired, fighting hard to quell my fear of his answer.

"We attempted to kidnap your son Jeffrey, and daughter Amanda. Unfortunately, our attempts' were badly executed, I'm afraid and I called off any further attempt. Now, since we've found another doctor of our own faith, we're back to your solution, which is probably far better in the long run."

"What do you propose to do with my wife and me?" I asked.

"I can assure you that the matter has been under serious consideration," he replied. "I know I promised to release you, but I'm being opposed by others in my organization in that commitment. As of now, as you'd say, `the jury is still out'."

"We're prepared for any eventuality," I responded. "We're not stupid people."

"Yes, I can see that," he replied "I only regret that we haven't had more time to get acquainted. From just our short contacts, I've come to admire you. That has little effect however on my attitude toward Americans or your government."

"I wouldn't expect a miracle," I retorted.

Bin Laden laughed, then grimaced as the effect on his incision was felt.

"You must think that I'm heartless or cruel, perhaps even mad?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, I'll admit," I replied. "That however has no bearing on your medical treatment by me. I'm sworn to treat illness and to save lives if I can, not take them, regardless of how I might feel personally. I take that vow very seriously."

"I can see that Doctor Richards," he said with surprising sincerity. "You are a man of honor, and that is a great weakness."

"I look on it as a great strength," I said. "That amongst our other basic perceptions of life are opposite, though our religions are not so."

"Oh? You think our religions are compatible? I find that hard to conceive. What do you know of Islam?"

"Not as much as I'd like," I admitted, "Though my wife and I have discussed it at length. She's the one who's knowledgeable in theology, not me. She has convinced me that our beliefs are not that dissimilar."

"I may have to have a discussion with her," Bin Laden said.

"I'm sure you'd both find the experience futile," I replied. "It might be of some academic interest, but I'm sure that she has as little chance of changing your perceptions or beliefs, as she would of making water run uphill."

"I'd say your conclusion is sound," he replied. "I guess I'm just a little puzzled."

"About what?" I asked.

"I expected you to hate me, yet I don't see it in your eyes."

"I have no room in my heart for hate," I replied simply. "We're taught some very simple truths: First to love God, second to love your neighbor as yourself, and finally to forgive those who despise you. Hate is destructive and only ends in ruin for those who practice it. Love is constructive and rewards those whose hearts are filled with it by giving them rest and peace of mind."

"Force and fear are more powerful," Bin Laden stated.

"Only in the short run," I retorted in a soft voice. "Jesus, the humble carpenter, overcame the Roman world through love. Mahatma Gandhi freed India from British rule by being passive in his resistance.. Martin Luther King, in my country raised the Negro from segregation the same way as did Nelson Mandela in South Africa. Those men accomplished far more permanently, than Alexander the Great, Napoleon, Hitler and the Irish Republican Army collectively."

"You make a convincing argument doctor," Bin Laden said. "You know I can't agree, of course."

"I really didn't expect you to Sir," I replied. "Some people can't accept the truth if it's right in front of them. That's human nature so I'm not disappointed. I'm not here to preach, only to heal."

"You've done a remarkable job with both," Osama said, "however, I'm not sure I can allow you to live."

"It's whatever God wills," I replied.

"Yes, it's Allah's will," he agreed with a stern expression. "You may go."

I arose from my chair, looking again at the gaunt bearded figure lying on the bed. I pitied that mind, the talents of which were being wasted in the destruction that is characterized by hate.

When I reached the door, I knocked. It quickly opened. "I'm ready," I announced.