The car was silent after they watched the front door of the house close. Alan felt his heart pounding in his chest. They had seen Desmond and Shelby leave the house with half naked boys waving good bye. That alone was worth the effort and they had it all recorded.

But the kicker was this John Alderman saying that Desmond was their protection, and that he was important to their operation. That wouldn't go over well down at the Mayor's office once they heard it.

They watched the limo head down the street, taking Shelby and Desmond home. Wilson was ecstatic, his toys worked far beyond what he'd hoped. Alan told him to go ahead with the power pack. They would install it tomorrow night.

"We're coming back tomorrow night?" Mike asked.

"Well I suppose we all don't have to be here," Alan said.

"I will be," Wilson said.

"I didn't mean that as a negative, I want to see this unfold too," Mike said.

They all looked at Brett who shrugged. "Why not, I'll bring the pizza.

There was the arrival of another limo just about one in the morning, and this one held four boys. The driver dropped them off and then proceeded back down to the gate; there was no sign of Alderman this time.

One of the boys sat down on the steps even though the night was slightly chilly.

"Sorry, guys, I just don't want this night to end. That was real fun."

"Your date was pretty young, Kyle ... what was he, like thirty?"

"Thirty-two he said, he's Rudnick's nephew. You remember him don't you David? He's the guy that has that sky box at the arena."

"Oh yeah, Mr. Wart on the Nose," David laughed. "We had fun down there. I'm gonna miss all that."

"We aren't supposed to be swapping names, remember what John told us," another one of the boys said.

"Aw, Stevie ... Rudnuck ... Redneck ... hell I can't even say it," David laughed.

"Joshy looks happy ... you get a big tip cutie?" Kyle asked.

"Yup, going straight into my PS2 fund," the boy named Joshy replied.

"When do you think Kevin and Austin will be back?" David asked.

"Jack said they would be home soon, a couple more days," Kyle said. "I've never been on a train ride before. I hope they have a good time in Washington. I wanna go see the Air and Space Museum someday."

"I took a train to Philadelphia once, went to visit my Granny, but she died," David said.

"Wonder why John didn't come out?" Stevie asked.

"Maybe he fell asleep ... OK, now I'm tired, let's go inside," Kyle said.

"What if the door is locked?" David asked. He walked up the steps, turned the handle and the door opened. He laughed and all the boys trooped through the door. It closed behind them.

"Good Lord, Rudnick too?" Mike said after they heard the boy's comment.

But Alan was focused on what he'd heard about Austin. The boy and Kevin had gone out of town and were not due back until the end of the week. Maybe Kevin had gone off the deep end? But they were due back on a train from Washington.

Most importantly, the name Jack had been mentioned. Jack had to be the big boss. If they could find him then the game would be over.

"Ok, the chickens are all back in the hen house for the night," Alan said. "We have a lot to work on ... "

The radio in the car squawked. "CS2 this is D1, do you copy?"

Why the dispatcher at central was was calling him Alan didn't know, but he had to find out.

"CS2, go ahead."

"CS2, we have a unit that needs your urgent attention; it's an emergency they say, can they call you direct?"

"Yes, give them my cell number, please," Alan said.

"Roger, CS2, out."

"What the hell is this?" Mike said.

Alan's cell phone rang three minutes later and he looked at the number, it was a city ID.

"Detective Malloy," Alan answered. A short pause. "Oh damn, I'll be right there. You stay put, hear me? My ETA is less than fifteen minutes."

"Alan?" Wilson said.

"They have a boy over at Northwestern Memorial who said he was raped and tied up, he said the perp's name was John Alderman ... a chauffeur brought him in."

Wilson and Bret scrambled for their car as Mike started the engine. All thoughts of surveillance were dropped. They had a live victim to a crime ... a crime where all the other victims seemed to turn up dead.

Mike turned down the street and tried to control the urge to fly. But once they reached the bottom and turned onto the highway Alan put the beacon on the roof and they fired up the siren. Brett was only a few car lengths behind as they reached the speed limit ... and then kept going faster.

Northwestern Memorial wasn't all that far away. If the chauffeur had dropped the old guys off then he must have become aware of the boy after that. It seemed like the only possibility. Questions begged for answers and those were down at the hospital.

Twelve minutes later they pulled into the Emergency entrance and parked along the curb. Alan was out of the car in a flash and hurried across the drive to the automatic doors. An orderly looked up as he came through the door and started to object, and then he saw the gold shield.

The nurse's station saw them coming and a woman came out to meet them.

"You're here about the boy? The officers said you would be coming, they're down the hall in 301 ... follow me."

Alan looked back at his guys. "Wilson, you and Mike take the uniforms, Brett you find that chauffeur, I want every detail of their evening."

Alan followed the woman down the hall. He wasn't sure what he was about to see, but if the kid looked worked over then he would personally have Alderman in chains within the hour. He was angry, but more than that, he was scared for Austin.

The uniforms were outside the door and they nodded at Alan?s shield.

"Detective Malloy? The boy seems OK," the older uniform immediately said. Maybe it was the look on Alan"s face, but the guy had done the right thing. Alan calmed himself down.

"What happened?" Alan asked.

"The chauffeur, one Michael Brooks, brought the victim here at twelve fifty-three this morning. The boy it seems had stowed away in the trunk of the limousine while it was at the residence of John Alderman. Mr. Brooks had delivered two gentlemen to their place of residence and was on his way back to the garage when he heard a thumping at the rear of the vehicle. He stopped and opened the trunk.

"Um, Detective ... I have kids his age, he's only fourteen ... this is kinda hard for me to say." The man cleared his throat.

"He reported to Mr. Brooks that he had escaped from the house after Mr. Alderman raped him and tied him up. Brooks immediately took off his uniform jacket and covered the boy ... the kid was nude. Brooks put him in the car and drove here. The desk clerk called us in; we have the overnight patrol here."

"Good work, guys. How is he "Alan asked.

"He has lacerations and scratches, the doctor examined him just a short while ago ... his anus is torn, he was brutally raped. They did a rape kit on him." The uniform had tears in his eyes and Alan understood.

"That's all for now, I'll let you talk to my guys over there," Alan pointed them towards where Wilson and Mike stood patiently waiting for their turn.

Alan stepped to the doorway of 301 and looked inside. It was with relief that he didn't immediately recognize the boy, and then the name came to him ... Brandon. There was a nurse inside but she saw the badge and decided to leave.

Brandon was sitting on the side of the bed in a pair of scrubs the nurses must have given him. He looked up as Alan approached.

"Brandon? ... I'm Detective Malloy."

Brandon looked scared, and not just because of the assault Alan was sure. It was because of what they had been taught about the cops. There was only one way to gain the boy's confidence.

"Brandon ... I'm Austin's friend."

The boy's eyes got wide ... and then there was the hint of a smile. Alan came closer and Brandon reached out to take his hand. "You love him too, don't you?"

Alan felt that statement wash over him and as the boy gazed into his eyes for an answer he felt tears cloud his vision. "Yes ... yes I do," Alan said, knowing it was true.

The boy was off the bed and into his arms before Alan could react. The only thing he could do was hug back ... they both needed it. He felt the boy begin to sob and he hugged harder, pulling Brandon's head against his chest.

"Hush, sweetie ... I'm here to make things better," Alan said.

"I ... I couldn't stop him ... he was so big ... down there ... it hurt so bad," Brandon managed between sobs.

"That's all over, sweetie ... we just want you to get better now."

Alan held the boy a moment longer and then moved him back to arm's length, kneeling on the floor so the boy could look down into his face.

"It's all over ... he won't ever hurt you or anyone else again, I promise you," Alan said. "But you'll have to tell me exactly what you remember, OK? I don't want any of your friends to get hurt."

"OK," Brandon said, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Uh, Detective ... what will happen to us?"

"First off, you may call me Alan ... and I don't even know your last name so that's fair ... OK"

"It's Weaver ... Brandon Weaver ... my middle name is Alan too."

"Well, we're going to take good care of all of you. It's time for something nice to happen for a change, don't you agree?"

Alan smiled and the boy grinned back ... the ice was broken. Wilson was standing at the door when Alan turned around. He'd recorded the officer's statements, and Alan borrowed the small tape recorder he carried. Wilson smiled when Alan asked that he be left alone with the boy. Wilson quietly shut the door.

Alan lifted the boy back up on the bed and then sat down beside him. "OK, let's start from the beginning ... ." He said.

Forty minutes later Alan opened the door. Brandon was finally asleep on the bed and he had stood for some minutes looking down at the quiet beauty of the boy. Another gay kid led astray by the evil of men's minds. But thankfully this one had been rescued.

Wilson, Mike and Brett stood outside ... waiting as all cops learn to do. Alan handed Wilson the recorder and sighed.

"OK, no more Mr Nice Guy. Mike get the SWAT team setup, I want a hostage team too. Notify Social Services we'll have eight boys for them shortly ... no scratch that. Someone go find the hospital chief and say we need space for eight boys, full exams and tests for STD's. I want them quarantined here for at least three days.

"I want warrants for Alderman, Shelby and Desmond ... and one for a John Doe with the first name of Jack. Start with Child Endangerment and Kidnapping, then work your way down to running a house of ill repute.

"That tape has all the names and places we'll need, at least until we get the other boys to talk. And Brett, I want you and Mike to arrest Alderman personally ... you should see the damage he inflicted on that boy's body. Get the ID lab over here too; I want photos of Brandon as evidence. They can take apart the house after we're done. I'm going to get the Chief out of bed."

"Rock and Roll," Brett said. He and Mike left in a hurry.

"I'll get the tape transcribed and set up the warrants. You do know it's three in the morning, don't you boss?" Wilson said.

"Yes ... and these bastards won't know what hit them when the sun comes up," Alan said. He paused. "And thank you, Wilson, what you set up last night was invaluable; I'll write that damn commendation myself."

Wilson grinned. "Guess I better lose some weight before they pin a medal on me. Oh, and I'll make sure the recorder is running when SWAT hits the house, might even make the News at Noon."

He turned away and stopped, reaching out to shake Alan's hand. "I heard what you told that boy ... it was just what he needed to hear. You really ought to get married and have kids; you'd be a wonderful father."

"I'll consider it," Alan said.

Wilson left and Alan told the nurse he would be bringing her seven more boys shortly after dawn. She thanked him for the warning and went off to make the arrangements.

Brandon had given him the final clue to wrap this all up, a piece of information he'd kept to himself. Jack's last name started with a G and he was staying in town, probably at a hotel not far away. He commandeered the two onsite uniforms and had them call in for replacements. They were going to visit a few hotels and ask around when he had a thought.

Searching the emergency waiting room, he saw the young man sitting against the wall in a uniform jacket. The chauffeur was still here.

"Excuse me, Mr Brooks?" Alan asked.

"Yes ... Detective Malloy? The other detective said you might want to talk to me personally," Brooks replied.

"Yes I do, I want to thank you. What you did was heroic, there's no two ways about it," Alan said.

"How's the boy?" Brooks asked, brushing off the compliment.

"He's fine ... sleeping now, it was quite a trial," Alan said. "You drive for Mr. Alderman a lot?"

"He owns the company. I've been with them about eight months now," Brooks said. "It's not what you think. I've driven those boys places but I had no idea it was ... it was for such a horrible reason. I'm quitting this morning when the office opens."

"Did you ever drive another man someplace? He would be a friend of Mr. Alderman's that just recently arrived in town,? Alan asked.

"You mean Mr. Gillette, no ... I didn't, but Frank did. Oh ... Oh Lord, I bet Frank knew about all this, he was Mr. Alderman's personal driver."

"Frank?"

"Frank Simmons, he's sorta like a bodyguard in a way ... he carries a revolver," Brooks said. "Alderman lets him keep an apartment above the garage at the house."

"Do you know where Frank took Mr. Gillette on their last drive?"

"Yes, but only because Frank had to ask me for directions."

"And where did they go, Mr. Brooks?" Alan asked.

"They went to the Renaissance Hotel on Wacker Street," Brooks said.

"Thank you, Mr Brooks ... .you've been most helpful."

"I hope you get them all, Detective ... just be careful of Frank ... he has a temper."

"So do I, Mr. Brooks ... so do I," Alan said.

He gave the uniforms their destination and called Central for a backup, advising them what they were about to do. En-route Wilson called to say that the warrants were all set. Alan asked him to fax a copy over to the front desk at the Renaissance Hotel after adding the name Jack Gillette to make it official.

He called Mike and gave him a heads up on Frank and the apartment over the garage. SWAT should treat him as an armed suspect. And then he told Mike they were about to nail Jack as well. He almost laughed as he heard Brett yell "Rock 'n Roll" in the background. He felt the joy of success too.

John was beside himself ... the boy had simply disappeared. The ties he found scattered across the bedroom floor, but how had the little bastard become loose? He could have sworn the kid was unconscious ... and the knots were tied securely.

Did someone come in and find the boy while he was upstairs waking Shelby? God damn, had the kid escaped the compound? No, he couldn't get over the wall from inside and the gate was securely locked until ... the limo. That had to be it.

John remembered seeing Brooks in the hallway when he came down, the man had been in the kitchen the whole time he'd been in the bedroom with Brandon. Had he heard anything?

He remembered the boy's screams ... damn, they must have been heard. Brooks would have taken Shelby and Desmond home by now, he would be returning to the company garage.

John took out his cell phone and punched the buttons. One ring ... .two ... three ... damn, no one was there. He searched the walk in closet once again and checked the linen closet in the bathroom, no sign of the boy hiding ... he had to be gone.

John ran through the rest of the house in a panic, starting on the first floor and working his way upstairs. All the boy's rooms were empty and he could hear the sounds of the other three playing games in the lounge. He peeked inside but there was no sign of Brandon in the room. He even tried the attic door and found the padlock still in place, fuck ... where was he?

Brooks was the only car that left. Damn, the remaining boys were due back at any minute. They couldn't see him like this ... he was about to tear his hair out. He hurried back to his bedroom ... what else could he do?

He thought about calling Jack. Shouldn't he warn the man if the boy had escaped? But there would be questions, millions of questions and he wasn't in the right frame of mind to answer any of them. Oh Fuck.

He ought to run away, go into hiding. What if the boy went to the cops? No, he couldn't ... he was a prostitute. Just a fucking little whore.

"Where are you ... you little bastard!" John screamed.

He fell to his knees at the end of his bed and sobbed. It couldn't be helped ... he'd screwed up again. His damn cock had led him into this evil ... it always had. John ripped open his pants and looked down at his shame.

"Fucking bastard ... I hate you ... I hate you," he sobbed. He began to pound his thighs and ended up punching his cock and the sensitive sac underneath. The pain shot through his body and he welcomed it ... so he did it again ... and again.

He collapsed on the floor, the pain in his groin spreading through his abdomen and making his muscles contract. John's bowels let loose on the carpet and he wallowed in the stink of his excrement rising up around him. He lay there enjoying the disgust he now felt.

Nothing he could do ... the boy was gone ... gone.

After what seemed like an eternity he crawled to the bathroom, feeling the brown crud sliding down his thighs. His shit felt cold now and that made him giggle. Cold shit ... hot shit. He laughed at the thought.

He struggled out of his torn pants and laughed at that too, so he tore off his shirt and went into fits of maniacal laughter. He managed to claw his way into the shower stall and sat on the floor.

The pain in his groin would not allow him to stand so he reached up and turned the knobs, feeling a burst of cold water before the hot water reached the shower head. That made him laugh too ... it was all so fucking silly.

He must have been there for almost an hour before his mind began to focus. He would have to tell Frank about the boy. He couldn't tell Bucky ... Bucky was dead ... bye-bye Bucky. Frank said Bucky had gone for a swim and never came up. That had seemed supremely funny at the time ... but not now.

Damn ... he needed Bucky. John pulled himself up and turned off the water. He grabbed a towel but didn't dry himself. Instead he hobbled across the floor, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the tile and on into the bedroom.

There was a pile of shit on the carpet at the foot of his bed. He ignored it, dropping the towel over it instead. His balls ached, but that was a good thing. His cock wouldn't get hard again tonight ... the beast had been tamed.

He wandered over to the side bar and poured himself an inch of Hennessey. He inhaled the fumes in the glass, savoring the exquisite aroma, and then poured it down his throat in one gulp.

John gasped, tears running from his eyes and his breath taken away. Only real bastards swigged expensive cognac like that ... and he was one this night.

He needed to sleep; the dawn would bring certain hell. He poured another inch ... and then made it two. Opening the drawer of the bar he pulled out the bottle of Valium and popped two pills ... then made it four more, chasing it all down with the cognac. The pills scattered across the bar as he threw the bottle down, and he ignored them.

He couldn't sleep in that bed ... it smelled of the boy. Not his boy ... but that miserable whore of a boy. His mind turned to Alex ... sweet child ... perfect angel. John collapsed in the chair beside the bed.

Alex would be back tomorrow ... and they would leave together. They could go back to Nina's village in Mexico. He would build them a small house overlooking the bay. He'd first seen Alex on that very spot and almost fainted at the vision of such beauty. Sweet Alex, hair flying in the wind, bare feet in the sand ...

John yawned ... yes, he needed to sleep ... Alex was coming. Tomorrow ...

The night manager at the Renaissance Hotel was very cooperative once she pulled the fax off her machine in the office. The lobby was huge, grand in fact, but not a soul in sight this early in the morning.

"We won't disturb your guests," Alan assured her. "Just give me a pass card key to his room."

Gillette was in 1846, one of the nicer suites in the hotel. The manager scanned a blank card through a machine on the desk and handed it over. Alan thought she was doing quite well considering the situation, her smile seemed almost genuine.

There were eight heavily armed officers and that meant taking two elevators to the eighteenth floor. Alan was sure the riot gear and bulletproof vests were a bit of overkill, but then it was regulation. His uniformed escorts remained in the lobby but Alan had promised them they would get to transport the perp down to the jail.

The elevator doors opened on eighteen and the hallways filled with officers, weapons at the ready. 1846 was three doors down at the end of the hallway on the right. Alan noticed background music filling the corridor, soft and soothing, a contrast to the creaking leather that surrounded him.

The penetration squad took their places on either side of the door. They would go in first, four men, four short barreled machine guns. The other four had spread out down the hallway, their job to keep anyone from interfering. Alan would go in last. He shifted the vest and nodded.

The lead man swiped the card in the door's lock and turned the knob. The second man pushed and all four charged into the darkened room. Lights came on as they moved across the sitting room and breached the bedroom door. Alan heard yells.

"Police ... Down ... Down on the floor ... Down I said ... NOW."

Alan moved in behind, sprinting across the empty room towards the bedroom. He heard the sound of a Taser being discharged, followed by screams of anguish. It was time to make his entrance.

Two officers were holding one suspect face down on the carpet. Alan saw he was a middle aged man ... that had to be Jack. The officers cuffed the man behind his back and yanked him to his feet. There was no resistance, probably because the suspect was naked, that always seemed to work.

There was another ... a younger man, face down on the carpet beside the bed. He had short blonde hair and was sobbing ... he was also nude. Alan could see the marks left by the Taser on his right shoulder.

One of the officers looked up at Alan. "Sorry, he struck me."

Alan shrugged, better than a bullet. The officers cuffed the young man and pulled him to his feet. On closer inspection the suspect might have looked like a boy, mostly because his pubic hair was shaved off, but he was at least an adult.

Alan walked over to where Jack stood between the two uniforms.

"Jack Gillette? We have a warrant for your arrest on charges of Child Endangerment, Prostitution ... well, you get the picture. The officer will read you your rights and then we'll take a nice ride downtown.

"I want my lawyer," Jack said.

Alan smiled. "Oh don't worry, he'll be there too." He looked at his watch, and then back up at Jack. "We ought to be picking him up right about now."

The SWAT team went over the walls in three places. One group in back to take the garage, and two in the front to take the house. It was barely light outside, sunrise not due for another thirty minutes. Still, Wilson could clearly see the whole thing on the screen in his car as the laptop captured the event. The news media would eat this up.

They found the front door unlocked so they crept inside. Six two-man teams scoured the first floor. "We have a body," the radio squawked and Wilson froze. "Male, estimate sixty years of age, rear bedroom ... looks like an OD."

Wilson smiled, so much for Mr. Alderman. What about the boys?

The teams swarmed up the front and rear staircases, invading the upper hallway. Doors were quietly opened, sleeping figures counted. "We have seven juveniles, all fast asleep," the radio relayed. Wilson sighed, the officer on the radio sounded relieved as well.

The gates to the estate opened and several squad cars drove in. Wilson could hear Brett's wisecracking voice in his head saying, "Time to make the donuts."

Frank had also been asleep when the SWAT boys crashed through his door and fell on him. They found a revolver under his pillow but he'd never had a chance to go for it, he would have been a fool to try. He was cuffed and dragged outside where they made him sit in the wet grass until a car arrived to secure him.

Brett and Mike had the SWAT men removed from the upper hall, replacing them with a few uniforms. One by one they went into each room and woke the boys. In each room they told the boys the same thing, a little lie that Alan had cooked up.

"Good morning, guys," Mike said. "We're the police. Austin said to tell you to stay calm and things will turn out just fine, he promises. So you guys get up and get dressed, we're gong to have a little meeting downstairs."

It was Brandon who had revealed Austin's position of authority over the boys; he said they all respected him. Wilson was in the last bedroom staring at Kevin's workstation, it was still on and that made him smile. Finally we have something, he thought.

The uniforms on duty smiled at the boys and the boys smiled back, there was nothing to be afraid of they were assured.

It was a silent bunch that sat down at the table, but they were hungry. Brett laid out milk and juice while Mike toasted some muffins.

"What?s your name?" a quiet voice asked.

"I'm Mike ... and you're David."

"You know me?" David asked.

"I've wanted to meet you guys for weeks," Mike said.

"Really? Is Austin here?" David asked.

"I heard he won't be back for a few days, but a friend of his is coming over to see you guys in just a little while," Mike said.

"Where's Brandon?" Kyle asked.

"You'll see him later too, he's probably still asleep," Mike said.

"But he's not here ... is he?" Kyle asked.

"No ... he left last night before you guys came home."

"Then John lied to us ... where's John?" Tim asked.

'John left here too. Seems you guys were all alone in this big old house, we had to come rescue you," Brett said.

"Boy is Jack gonna be mad when he finds out about this," David said.

"He already knows," Alan said from the kitchen doorway.

Mike seemed relieved to see him, and Alan could only imagine all the questions the boys were asking.

"My name is Alan Malloy, I'm Austin's friend."

"But ... but you're a cop," David said. "We're not supposed to talk to cops."

"Those days are over, guys. Are you ready for that meeting now?"

It was Alan and the boys; no record of any conversation was to be kept. They all gathered in the sitting room, the doors were closed and the cops waited outside.

"First, Brandon said to say hello, he's doing fine. I am going to tell you some things here that no one will ever know I told you, but you have to keep it secret. Are we agreed?"

Seven heads nodded. Alan sat down on the floor and one by one the boys moved down to surround him. It was intimate, it was cozy, and it made them all feel like equals.

"I want you to know that no matter what happens from here on I will be there to help you. I made that promise to Austin, and now I make it to you. You all joined the Golden Hand for different reasons, but that's over now.

"In the next few days there will be dozens of people trying to talk to you about this house and the people you worked for. Some of them will be cops, some will be legal types. There will be doctors and social workers interested in you, and of course the news media.

"All these people will want to know what you did, who you saw and what you were asked to do for money. I know some of you are gay, just like Brandon ... and me."

The boys looked shocked at that statement, but there were also a lot of knowing smiles. Alan smiled back.

"Yes, even cops can be gay. But like most of you I don't tell anyone about it because it's none of their business. And that's my point, what you did for those men is no one's business but your own. And if you want my advice I would recommend that you refuse to talk about it. Legally you don't have to.

"I'm telling you this because all those people will want to make you look bad and feel like criminals. But you don't have to talk because we don't need what you say to convict those men; they have done that all by themselves.

"You guys are their victims; you were used to make these men more money than you can imagine, and that is their crime ... and the shame is theirs ... not yours. I don't want to hear what you did for money; I already know. I did the same thing when I was your age and I put that all behind me, someday you will too.

"So remember, if you need to talk to me just ask ... Austin did and I became his friend. This part of your young lives is over, and now you move on. Things might be a little difficult the next few months, but you will always have my support."

It was little David that reached out and took his hand, and the others soon joined hands until there was a completed circle.

"Now there is something I want you to do, and this is the biggest part of our secret. When anyone asks you a question I want you to say that you won't talk until you see your lawyer. And I am going to get you that lawyer because you're going to need him.

"There were some very important people involved in all this; some of them worked for the city and others held government office. I know you made money but the court will probably take all that away from you because it wasn't made legally. So you're going to need a lawyer to sue the city and all the adults that made you their victims. I promise to find you the very best.

"I want all of you to think about what I'm going to say next because it's the hardest question you'll ever have to answer. I bet you know that your parents were paid by Jack to keep you here. When that is discovered your parents are going to be in a lot of trouble. What I want to know is how many of you want to go home after all this is over ... do you want to go back and live with your parents? Those who do, just raise your hand."

Alan looked around the circle ... no hands went up ... not a single one. These boys had detached themselves from parental control long ago; now it would be time for the parents to get a little surprise. Considering the publicity this case would garner, Alan would almost bet the DA would have them arrested and get convictions on all if them.

The boys would end up in foster care until they were eighteen. It wasn't fair, but their parents had given up any chance they might have of keeping a family together. Eight boys ... and Alan wondered if there was a chance of keeping them together.

He could tell that some of them were involved with one another, partnerships had been formed. It would take a heroic effort for what he had in mind, but then these kids were special, and many of them were openly gay. The others probably harbored similar feelings but were too young to express themselves.

Soon they would all be the center of a firestorm of activity and attention, and most of it would be unwelcome. As juveniles their names would be kept from the media, but how long could secrets be kept? The sordid details would leak out. Names like Shelby and Desmond guaranteed it.

"Ok, here's how the day will go," Alan said. "I want you guys to each get your personal belongings together, an officer will help you carry things downstairs. Then I'm going to take you over to the hospital where you'll see Brandon again. You'll be staying there for a few days ... do you know why?"

"Cause they want to look up my butt," Kyle said.

Alan smiled; Austin had said the very same thing. "Yes, they want to make sure you're all healthy. Just think of it as a free checkup. But I've arranged for all of you to be together away from all the noise this mess is going to cause."

"This is gonna all be on the news, won't it?" David asked.

"Yes," Alan said. "The adults who ran all this, and the ones you boys went out to see are going to be arrested and put in jail for a very long time."

"How do you know about all this stuff?' Tim asked.

Alan smiled yet again. "I've been watching you boys for a long time and because we have Kevin's computer, he left us everything."

There was a knock on the door and Wilson stuck his head inside. "The vans are here."

"OK guys ... time to saddle up," Alan said. The circle broke up but David still held his hand. Alan looked into that sweet young face and saw the apprehension in the boy's eyes.

"Don't worry, sweetie ... I'm going with you. The game is almost over, and when it is you're going to be the winners."

"What will happen to Kevin ... and Austin?" David asked.

"I'm working on that too," Alan said.


On to the Epilogue

Back to Chapter Eight

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"On the Wire" Copyright © 16 November 2008 by Chris James. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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