The Boy Avengers (9 page)

Do you know the right person? I asked.

I know
exactly
the right person. And he knows it too. But he seems unwilling or afraid to do it.

I knew he meant me, and I suspect Jeff knew he meant me. It's more complicated than that, I said calmly. Anyone else?

I'll find someone. It will have to be someone very special, of course.

How about your other assignment?

I've found the girl. I'm sure of that. The problem is to approach her correctly. Money is not involved.

Naturally, I'd already told Jeff about the scheme to infect The Five, and it struck him as a good idea. Does she have
both
syphilis and gonorrhea? Jeff asked.

I know her doctor.

Is she being treated?

She refuses.

Out of bitterness for having caught it? I asked. She deliberately caught it. She solicited it.

Why? Jeff asked.

It suits our purpose exactly. You see, she had a younger brother she adored, and when she refused to submit to her... well, she'd thought of Ken as her fiance, though they were not formally engaged....

Who was he? Jeff asked.

Something of a football hero at Yale. He regarded her refusal to submit to him ...

Could you be more direct? I asked.

Sorry. I've had previous clients who insisted on genteel euphemisms no matter how sordid the circumstances, and I've gotten into the habit of it.

So what did the perpetrator do? asked Jeff, who was always amused at the terminology in police crime reports.

He seemed painfully eager to fuck Sandra, and when she refused ...

Why
did she refuse? I asked.

Am I telling this badly? he asked with bad grace.

Sorry, I said.

I'm much better at written reports, he admitted.

Where you don't get interrupted, I said.

Jeff's eye was caught by a work-in-progress hanging on the studio wall. He went over to peer more closely.

I believe that is the most beautiful ass I have ever seen in my whole life, Tom said to me quietly and reverently. I think for the first time I feel empathy with those boys.

It makes you want to rape him?

No, he said sharply. Cancel the empathy. Come to think of it, they deserve to be deballed.

Jeff returned. I like what you're striving towards, he said to Tom.

How old are you?

Fourteen. Was it such a stupid thing to say?

Actually, it was the most intelligent, most encouraging comment I've ever received.

Your painting says you're a very complex person, Jeff said.

If that is a nice way of saying I'm confused, I agree.

So she wouldn't let him fuck her, I prompted.

Because she was confused and complex, Tom said with a smile. She wasn't sure she was in love with him, and she believed one fucked only if in love.

One can be in love
without
fucking, I said, and I wished I hadn't, because Jeff gave me a curious, enigmatic look.

Her brother Clyde, who was fourteen, had a terrible schoolboy crush on Ken, and he was well aware of it.

Was Clyde homosexual? Jeff asked.

I don't believe he was. But in his resentment at Sandra's refusing to be fucked, Ken took vicious advantage of the hero worship and persuaded Clyde to demonstrate the extent of his admiration by letting himself be fucked up the ass. For all that he was apparently willing, Clyde was seriously damaged. Apparently Ken was frightened when he realized this and persuaded Clyde not to see a doctor. Clyde still trusted him, and didn't, until it was far too late. He developed blood poisoning and died quite suddenly. But before he died in great agony, he told Sandra what had happened.

And she decided on the spot to infect Ken? I asked.

As I mentioned, she was a confused and complex person. She had a mental breakdown immediately following Clyde's painful death. They were a well-to-do family and she was sent to a private asylum in Switzerland.

Only the best, Jeff said wryly.

It was expensive but incompetent. It was filled with embarrassing cases rich families wanted out of the way permanently. It was Sandra herself who provided her own cure, if that is what you can call it. She showed no signs of coming out of her catatonic lethargy until she read a bit in the Hartford paperwhich she received regularlyannouncing that Ken had married a wealthy Hartford girl. At that moment the active idea of vengeance crystallized in her mind. She made a seemingly miraculous recovery overnight, and the disappointed head of the clinic, who had counted on keeping her for a number of years at his exorbitant fees, was forced to release her. She stopped off in Paris, supposedly to buy a new wardrobe for her return home, but actually to pick up both syphilis and gonorrhea from cooperative Algerians.

She had gotten over her distaste of sex, then? I asked.

She never had a distaste of sex. It was the strong desire
for
sex that had frightened and confused her. With the Algerians she felt she could let herself go, and I take it she was an apt pupil. Now that sex was to be a weapon, there was no need to hold back. She was so good she narrowly avoided being kidnapped and taken to an expensive bordello in Marseilles.

Fascinating! Jeff said.

By the time Sandra returned to Connecticut, she found Ken sufficiently bored with his new wife to be painfully eager to spend a weekend at a motel with her. 'My God, if only I'd known you could be like this, how happy we could have been!' Ken told her. 'Am I better than Clyde?' she asked. 'What do you mean?' he asked, turning pale. 'Not a thing,' she said, fearful he might become suspicious. Well, he
didn't
become suspicious. He infected not only his wife but her younger sister as well. There was a messy divorce.

Wasn't Sandra satisfied with that? I asked.

She went to her doctor, and when he told her that she herself would probably not be harmed by the diseasesinformation he has since regretted giving her she got it in her head she must have three victims before Clyde was fully avenged.

Our soccer Five, I said. How many would they count for?

Only one, I should imagine. And one is all she needs.

There's been a second?

Yes indeed. And a very dangerous one. He was second-in-command in a New England Mafia family, married to the daughter of the head man. He was accused of forcibly raping a nine-year-old boy. The father who had made the accusationssuddenly disappeared without a trace, and the matter was hushed up. But whatever the Mafia hood's proclivities, Sandra easily seduced him. Three months later his bullet-riddled body was found on a garbage dump. An autopsy revealed syphilis. It seemed certain he'd infected his wife and was killed on the orders of her father.

Do you think Sandra would find our cause worthy? I asked.

If she could meet Jeff, I think so.

What do you say, I asked Jeff.

I'd like very much to meet her.

Is there any danger? I asked Tom.

Only if you fuck her.

Or rape me, Jeff said with a smile.

Don't tempt me, I said.

You could never rape me.

Too decent or too weak? I asked.

It could be statutory rape, Tom reminded him.

Even if you
enjoy
it?

You only have to be underage.

But
he's
underage, too, Jeff protested.

Well, maybe she'd be content merely to give him crabs, Tom said.

And I'm paying for all this? I protested.

We met Sandra at a cafe, not because we were afraid to meet her privately, but because she specified it. She seemed fascinated by Jeff. She was nearly beautiful. It was obvious she came from a good family. She dressed well but casually. I suspect that someone else selected her clothes, for she wore them with indifference. I was glad Tom had already told her what had happened to Jeff, and what we required of her, for I felt curiously constricted in her presence. I don't think I could have told the story effectively. I have never told Jeff this, but I rather disliked her.

In fact, of the three of us, only Jeff seemed at ease in her presence. At one point, when she was speaking of her brother, he impulsively reached a hand over and put it atop hers. If she'd had any doubts up to this point, this natural action resolved them, for I almost believe Jeff
became
her brother at that moment.

She wasn't reluctant to speak of her tragedy. I don't understand it, she said. Surely no one could have been more willing than my brother, for he trusted Ken absolutely. And yet it killed him. Jeff here was totally unwilling, and yet there are no ill effects.

Not physically, I said. She looked sharply at me.

Yes. That is important to remember.

Willingness is not enough, Tom said. Inexperience is sometimes more cruel, more devastating than hatred.

I had someone to take care of me right away, Jeff said, though if it had been left up to my attackers, I wouldn't have been tended at all.

They threatened further harm if he tried to get help, I said.

Yes, I know, she said quietly. They shall pay for it.

Then happened one of those coincidences that occur only in real life, for they are too unbelievable to be used in fiction. Our five devils came into that very cafe in Waterbury.

There they are, said Sandra.

How did you know? I asked, astonished.

My brother, she said simply. I hadn't the slightest doubt at that moment that she was completely mad. But nothing in the world would have stopped me from employing her.

There shouldn't be too many of us, Tom said, and he slipped away.

Directly they saw us, The Five came over to the table, preening when they saw Sandra. I witnessed a curious transformation in her. She became suddenly quite beautiful, a little mysterious, the epitome of a desirable young woman, yet without losing that air of good breeding that would make The Five feel at ease and safe with her.

Talbot, Lattimer, Jamie acknowledged as they neared our table.

Sandra, these are some boys from school, Jeff said quietly. My sister Sandra, he said to The Fivea masterpiece of improvisation, I thought.

I was afraid she might be your girl friend, Lloyd Waterman said coyly. We wouldn't want to take your girl friend away from you.

I didn't know you had a sister, Gordie Phillips said.

His black-sheep sister, she said. That's why you haven't heard of me.

You promised ... Jeff began, and left it intriguingly hanging. What a pair these two made!

Sweetheart, why don't you and your little friend go back to school and let these men buy me a drinkie-poo? Sandra said. She deftly accented the word
men.

I could see this put-down of me scored heavily with The Five. I think you'd better do what the little lady says, said Corkie Jennings, the only one we'd have willingly spared the plague that Sandra was so eager to expiate on them.

She gave us a secret look to inform us everything was under control. What method there was in her madness! You're sure you'll be all right? Jeff said. He took her hand and kissed it. For a heart-stopping moment I feared she was going to lose control. But she pulled herself together.

Run along now. If they're Cornhill men, I know I'm in good hands.

When we got to the door we looked back. We were already completely forgotten. The Five were exuding on Sandra all the charm they believed they possessed. It was clear her only problem would be not to give in too quickly.

Tom was waiting outside. Fate? he asked me with a smile.

What else?

I'll let you know as soon as there's anything to report.

How much will we know? I asked.

How much do you
want
to know?

As much as possible.

With pictures?

You're joking, Jeff said.

No, I'm not.

With pictures, I said.

Done. May I make a suggestion?

Of course.

Why don't you warn your Mr. Foster that his boys are falling into the toils of a nymphomaniac.

I see!

I
don't, Jeff protested.

Sounds self-defeating.

If they have any doubts, Tom said, being warned away from her will dispel them immediately. It will make them painfully eager to fuck her, and if her being on their social level, combined with their virginityof which I have little doubt

Heterosexual virginity, Jeff reminded him.

Heterosexual virginity, have caused lingering doubts, when they get an outside opinion that she is ready and willing to fucka nymphomaniac in factand it would be very naughty of them to do it, then I think the ... the...

Perpetrators? Jeff offered.

Perpetrators, Tom accepted with a smile, would lose all doubts and be irresistibly drawn to their destruction.