Tangled Web

"Please join me in moment of silent remembrance of Stuart Marcus."

The FBI agent scanned the crowd below. He ticked off on a list the people he recognized from earlier interviews, though the clutch of students was his focus. These would be persons of interest. He climbed down from the balcony to be able to see faces as the gathering broke up and filed out the door. The last was the Provost. The agent nodded his sympathy, then spoke to the Provost.

"Dr. Waldheim. I think we should start with the students who attended."

"I assumed as much and have already prepared a list."

"You know who was here?"

"I know most of the students by name. I could have reasonably guessed who might attend."

"Was there anyone here whose attendance you did not expect?"

"Ahhh, I see your point. A few. If you'll permit me to check in with my office, I can obtain their schedules. I'd like to approach them myself, to invite them to my office for the interview."

The first few interviews with students confirmed what had been said by the faculty and staff. Most had taken the accounting class given by Mr. Marcus or had received consideration in a difficult time. The FBI agent was conscious of time passing quickly, with no significant information being added. Everyone talked about the relationship between Marcus and Stephenson, but in such terms that it could be meaningless. Certainly nothing that shed light on Stephenson's behavior and nothing that pointed to the disappearance of the student.

As the agent and Provost were waiting for the next student to arrive, the President of the college stormed into the Provost's office. "Have you solved this thing yet? Where's that student and where's Stephenson? I've got several important donors who want answers on this. This could jeopardize the capital campaign."

"Who, other than ourselves, know anything about this?" the Provost demanded.

"I have you know I am well connected in Washington. I have been contacted by several members of the international community who have an interest in this boy's welfare. I want that Stephenson arrested immediately so we can close this thing down." The president stormed out.

"Dr. Waldheim, there's a student waiting for you" a receptionist said as she dodged the exiting president.

"Just a moment please" the FBI agent requested of the receptionist. "Who the hell has he been talking to?"

"I have no idea. I did have some reservations about informing Mr. Worthington, but as president, he is my superior, if only nominally. He does seem to have a fair amount of information beyond what I have shared with him."

The Provost escorted a student into his office. The student, Alex, was wide-eyed with panic when the Provost introduced the FBI agent.

"Sit down Alex. We're helping with an investigation about some strange matters here at the college. Unhappily, Mr. Marcus's death is one. Professor Stephenson has apparently disappeared. And another, about which I must ask you to not relate to anyone else. A student has also disappeared and we fear for his safety. I am here on your behalf, on behalf of your parents. You have nothing to fear in sharing anything you may know about Mr. Marcus or Professor Stephenson."

The FBI agent began, "Alex, is it? Alex, do you know anything about the relationship of Mr. Marcus and Professor Stephenson."

Alex broke into sobbing tears. The agent and the Provost exchanged glances of wonder. The Provost put a hand on Alex's shoulder to comfort him. "Alex, whatever it is, you must tell us."

Struggling against the flood of emotion, Alex spoke lowly, "I saw them. I saw them together."

"Marcus and Stephenson?"

"Yes. It was at Mr. Marcus's house. I went over to..." his words trailed off. Summoning courage he continued. "I went over to talk with them after I saw them at a bar, across the river."

"A bar?"

"Yes, the gay bar over near the State University. I saw them there and thought I could talk to them. Professor Stephenson was filling in as my advisor, and everyone talked about them being a couple. I thought I they would listen to me."

"About what?"

"Oh god, this is so hard. I think I am, no I know I am. I'm gay. I've never been with anyone, but I know it." He broke down into tears again. The Provost put his arm around Alex, offering more comfort.

"You say you saw them at Mr. Marcus's house."

"Yes, after seeing them at the bar, I followed them back. It took me a bit to park my car and walk over to Mr. Marcus's house. The house was dark when I got there, but there was some light coming through the curtains of the window that looks out onto the porch. I was going to knock, but I heard something, someone call out. Hell, I was scared."

"I know, it must have been very difficult to seek their help" the Provost encouraged.

"Anyway, I looked through the gap in the curtains and saw them."

"They were inside?"

"Yes, on the couch, having sex."

"Oh, my" the Provost exclaimed.

"You're sure?"

"They were going at it, even knocked into a table, spilling wine all over. I was angry that they were together and I was alone. I needed their help. Oh, god, forgive me. I'm so sorry. Now Mr. Marcus is dead. What about Professor Stephenson? He's okay, isn't he? And what student is missing? What's this all about?"

"I'm afraid I can't give you any information, we don't know much. Our first concern is that all students are safe." The Provost escorted Alex to his dorm room, reminding him of the need for discretion and encouraging Alex to contact him any time day or night with any issue. "And Alex, I know how hard it was to tell us all you did today. Thank you for trusting me. I know you are a fine young man and you will find your way. I am here for you and will try to be worthy of your trust."

The last planned student interview opened a new line of inquiry. While he himself did not know Stephenson, he did see Stephenson pick up a student in Mr. Marcus's car.

"When did this happen?"

"It was a Friday night, over in town. I was coming out of the café and Thibaud was standing in front. We said 'hi' and as I was about to leave, Mr. Marcus's car came up with Professor Stephenson driving. Thibaud kind of winked at me and got in. Off they went. I don't know who was luckier, the Professor or Thibaud. They're both really hot. Oh, excuse me, I probably shouldn't have said that."

"How did you know it was Mr. Marcus's car?"

"I was stuck down at the train station last year. I was coming back from break and that big snow storm hit. There weren't any cabs and it was too far to walk in the storm. I called up the office and only Mr. Marcus was still there, everyone else had been sent home. Mr. Marcus came and got me. So I know his car. I rode in it once. He was always like that, Mr. Marcus, he'd help a guy out."

"Yes" said the Provost, "he was like that. He performed countless small acts of kindness, most of which no one else ever knew. Thank you for your help. I'll see you out."

Upon his return the FBI agent said with raised eyebrows "Tea bow?"

"Thibaud, a French name. I'll just go get him" answered the Provost.

The Provost entered the class room quietly. "Excuse me, Professor, but I must interrupt to speak to one of your students. Thibaud, could you accompany me to my office, please." Thibaud mocked a look of worry in return to the several teasing comments from other students. "I'm afraid this is a serious matter, but all will be clear in a few minutes" the Provost explained.

Once inside the Provost's office, following the introduction of the FBI agent, Thibaud was interviewed about his contact with Stephenson.

"You know Professor Stephenson?"

"Sure, I know Cal."

"You were seen getting into a car with him?"

"I suppose so, we had a couple of weekends together" Thibaud said nonchalantly.

"Where did you go?"

"Cal took me to this kind of resort place in Vermont."

"How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two. I'm an exchange student and have already completed my Baccalaureate in France. I am attending here to continue my education, improve my English and be closer to things American. No need to worry about crossing state lines with a minor. Vraiment."

"What did you do on these weekends?"

"How graffic do you want me to be?" He waited, but was met with silence. "Okay, Cal picked me up and we drove up to Vermont. He mostly talked about his life with Mr. Marcus. For a while it was sweet, but did nothing to put me in the mood. Once we got there, we'd have a nice dinner then go to the room and screw."

"That's it, dinner and relations?"

"On Saturday afternoons, while I soaked it up at the spa, he'd go off somewhere. He did not offer, I did not ask where. Another dinner, more fun in the sack and then back to the campus. We'd stop along the way at a big grocery store and buy all kinds of things for 'Stu', Mr. Marcus. But that was the weekend. I got to get off campus and eat real food, I got to get it on with a major stud, and that's fine with me."

"Can you provide me with the name of the resort where you stayed."

"Sure, it's the Solstice, near Burlington. Anything else?"

"When was the last time you saw Professor Stephenson?"

"I passed him as I came out of the Economics building around ten this morning."

"How did he seem to you?"

"Handsome as ever."

"Did he appear under any stress?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary. He was a pretty relaxed guy, except when, you know, we were together." Thibaud winked.

***

The FBI agent sat across from the Provost. "What can you tell me about Stephenson?"

"As everyone has mentioned so far, he was a good professor, well liked and respected by his colleagues and students. He came to us to fill an emergency vacancy due to an illness of one of our faculty" the Provost explained. "I was surprised by the source, however, Mr. Worthington, the college president. As I mentioned earlier, Mr. Worthington has little to do with the college or how it is run. That falls under my purview, including finding and selecting faculty, with the approval of department heads. Mr. Worthington came in to my office with Professor Stephenson's complete curriculum vitae and letters of recommendation. On paper he looked acceptable, he interviewed well, and since classes had already begun, we acted to bring him on. It did disturb me, however, that Mr. Worthington considered him all the more acceptable for being, as he put it, 'easy to fire'. Apparently there had been some friction among the faculty at UCLA where he had done his graduate work. Professor Stephenson alleged that some of the papers being presented by senior faculty had been, in fact, his work. As a graduate student, one has little influence. Further, there seems to have been some untoward interaction between Professor Stephenson and a graduate student and while that is beyond the interests of my office, Mr. Worthington made a point of mentioning it on several occasions. I was pleased to fill the position on short notice and then to have Professor Stephenson do an outstanding job.

The FBI agent continued, "And the student, Samir as you call him."

"Oh my yes, Samir. Where can he be? He came as a freshman nearly four years ago. He has been a good student and is also well liked. While I knew him, as I try to know all the students, when a student is well behaved, he and I have relatively little interaction. I did keep a somewhat closer eye on him, with his special status as a foreign national of expressed interest to his embassy, but I made a point of not drawing attention to the fact in order to allow him as normal and full an experience as any student."

The FBI agent thanked the Provost for his information and help through the process. He promised that while the investigation would continue, he had instructed his staff to be as subtle as possible. He then asked the Provost if there was an office he could use to collect his thoughts prior to reporting to the FBI brass. The Provost made the necessary arrangements.

***

Alone in the borrowed office, the FBI agent reviewed his notes.

The missing student, known as 'Samir' to the college community, was an enigma in several ways. He was the second son of the first son of the king of a small, but wealthy Arab nation.

The first son had died tragically a few years before, ostensibly at the hands of his own nation's secret police. He had been a graduate student in California when suddenly recalled to his country. A few days later he was reported as having committed suicide by leaping from a palace rampart. The international community was in uproar, alleging that the young man had been murdered for suspected Western leanings and a possible homosexual affair.

The death of the first son was attributed by some to an ongoing rivalry between an emerging liberal and democratic movement and old guard nationalists. In the local culture, homosexuality was forbidden and any taint could undermine the legitimacy of the royal family. The nationalists made frequent, unveiled use of the secret police to enforce its political agenda.

Now the second son had been abducted and possibly killed. The testimony of his roommate and close friends indicated that they knew nothing of his royal background. He had been at the college since his freshman year, had performed well academically and was well liked. It was reported that he spent occasional weekends at the State University nearby, but whether that was with a social group of his own country, a girl friend or whomever, they did not have any information to share. The second son had kept that part of his life very private.

***

The FBI agent fretted as his staff, one by one, reported nothing. The student had not been found, either in the search of the roads and public transportation. Neither had a body been found. Stephenson had similarly disappeared. There were no stolen or rented cars. No one who appeared to know him had lent him a car. Marcus's car sat in his garage. The female doctor had not been seen, though that seemed a minor detail. They would continue the searches, but after the thoroughness of the search so far, he did not expect to learn anything new.

He made his report to his seniors at the FBI. They told him that the State Department had made many inquiries into the missing student and demanded that his abductor be identified and detained. They implied that this case of was of particular interest to important foreign governments.

As much as the FBI agent would like to find the student, apprehend his abductor or killer and close the case, the investigation wound down without results.

CHAPTER THREE

Alex reclined in the bed gently touching the man who lay against his chest. As he traced the shape of the other's ear, he thought about how happy he was, how fortunate that life had brought this man to him. He savored the sensations of their lovemaking, the heat and excitement still with him.

"That tickles" the man in his arms teasingly complained.

"What we just got done doing tickled, too."

"I never heard of anyone with a ticklish ass."

"I've never been touched that deep before."

"You bet you haven't."

"Brag, brag."

"Hey, lover."

"What?"

"I love you."

"And I love you."

They kissed, embraced and made love again.

***

"How long has it been?"

"Since we did it? About an hour. You are certainly in the mood today."

"No, since we met."

"Wow, it's been almost two years."

"I can't believe you pulled that line on me."

"I am really lucky you bought it."

"You really have balls."

"As you well know. Hey, I wasn't about to let you get away."

"You mean my apartment."

"I admit that's an amazing perc, but no, I mean you. Loveable, luscious, fuckable you."

"That was quite a night."

"Ah yes, I remember it well..."

***

Alex was being taken out for a celebratory drink with friends from his job in the office of the chief economist of a major financial institution. He had received a minor promotion, but his friends seized any opportunity to have drinks.

They were into their third round when one of his friends hopped up from the table and accosted a person sitting at the bar.

Alex overheard some of their conversation. "You said to meet you here. So I'm here. What gives?" The speaker was darkly handsome, dressed in a suit and tie, typical of a banker or attorney.

"Come on and sit at the table with us."

"Us? Are you here with friends or are you trying to set me up again?"

"Never mind, just come over."

The man took his drink and followed over to the table. Alex's friends rearranged so that a chair next to Alex was vacant. The man sat.

"Hey, I'm Guy. Around here they say it to rhyme with sky, but it should really rhyme with bee."

"Like the French."

"Exactement."

"Hey Alex, he speaks French" one of Alex's friends said leadingly.

"Spent summers in Provence with my French grandparents. No big deal."

"And Guy is in the DA's office. He's an attorney" offered another friend.

"What is this, a set up?" Alex asked.

Suddenly, his four friends all stood up, offering several lame and conflicting excuses why they all had to leave. Alex was left stammering as they headed out the door. He looked sheepishly at Guy.

"I'm sorry, my friends seem to have arranged for us to meet."

"Normally it's not something I'd do, but I'm glad they did" was Guy's reply.

"You don't have to be nice. If you want to go, please, I won't be offended."

"Since we're here anyway, could we get something to eat?"

"I guess so, but I'm not a fan of bar food, could we go somewhere else?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Over near my apartment is a great Thai place. It's not too far a walk and worth it."

They made the journey and enjoyed a fine meal together. Through the evening they began talking about their jobs. Then they talked about their childhoods. Then they talked about their families.

They stood on the sidewalk after dinner, both awkwardly waiting for the next step. "This may be presuming a lot, but I don't do sex on a first date, if that's what this was" Alex was cautious.

"Oh, yeah, sure, no problem" Guy stammered in reply. "I can respect that, not that I don't find you very attractive, I really do. But hey, didn't you say your apartment was around here? Freddy mentioned you had this great apartment."

"Yeah, it's pretty nice. What else did Freddy tell you?"

"Oh, that you're smart, funny, very very sexy, and have a great apartment."

"The apartment seems important to you."

"If you lived in the dump in Brooklyn that I do, it would be. Never mind. We're only a few blocks from the river, let's walk over."

They walked to the park that runs along the river's edge. Guy maneuvered them onto a park bench. "Hey, the stars, you can really see them here."

"Yes, it's a beautiful night" Alex Agreed.

Guy got on one knee. "Alex, will you marry me?"

"What?" Alex was shocked.

"Will you marry me?"

"Guy, I just met you an hour ago."

"Four hours ago. It's been four hours."

"And you ask me to marry you? We haven't even had sex."

"If that would convince you, I'm willing" archly replied Guy.

"How can I resist a line like that?"

"I've been working on it for a long time, but I was afraid to use unless I was willing, hoping to make it come true."

"Well, you are something, Guy. Come on, let's go see the apartment."

"You know how difficult it is to get an apartment in New York, much more in this neighborhood."

They laughed the few blocks to Alex's apartment. Once inside, Guy was very impressed.

"Two bedrooms -- not that we'll need them -- sunken living room with fireplace, terrace, two bathrooms and a gourmet kitchen. Are you a Rockefeller?"