Miracle Cure (1991) Read online

  Colonel T picked up the receiver and blurted back something equall y u nintelligible.

  "Camron has left the bar," the colonel explained.

  "He hired one of our tuk-tuks."

  "Tuk-tuks?"

  "Think of it as a taxi."

  Max nodded.

  "Then I guess it's showtime."

  "I will set up tuk-tuks wherever he is dropped off. We will try to stal l h im if he returns before you have a chance to free Mr. Stiverman, bu t t here is no guarantee."

  "I understand."

  "You will signal us if the room has an explosive device?" ""I'll rais e a nd lower the shade," Max said.

  "If I give you the signal, don't try to stop him. He might blow th e p lace sky-high."

  The colonel nodded.

  "And you have the layout memorized?"

  "Yes."

  "Then good luck."

  "Thanks." Knots began to form in Max's stomach.

  "One last question."

  "Yes?"

  "How do I go about hiring a prostitute?"

  The colonel smiled.

  "Sit at the bar and hold up a ten dollar bill, Lieutenant. The rest wil l t ake care of itself."

  Sara woke up late. For a brief moment she blindly reached out fo r m ichael and clawed at the pillow before she remembered that he would no t b e there. Then she withdrew her hand and began to get ready to visi t h arvey.

  An hour later she knocked lightly on the door to Harvey's if fice an d p eeked in.

  "Can I come in?"

  He looked up from his desk. He smiled at her in a tired way and took of f h is reading glasses.

  "Of course."

  "I don't want to interrupt." "No," he said, "you're not interrupting. I n eed a break anyway."

  "When was the last time you got some sleep?" she asked.

  "Oh, let's see. What year is it?"

  "You look awful."

  He nodded, still smiling.

  "I've seen you look better too."

  She limped toward the wooden chair in front of his desk and sat down.

  Her eyes were immediately drawn to the poster o f m ichael that Harvey had plastered on the wall behind him. Seeing hi s i mage soaring to the basket was oddly comforting. She adjusted he r s pectacles and stared for a few more moments, watching him glide i n m id-air, seeing the mask of concentration that covered his face. The n s he said, "I have something to tell you. Something involving my fathe r a nd Reverend Sanders."

  He leaned back in his chair.

  "Oh?"

  "You are not going to like it."

  "When something involves your father and Sanders, I rarely do. What i s i t, Sara?" She told him everything. Harvey's mouth remained still whil e s he spoke but his body language was another matter. It altere d c ompletely. His fists slowly closed and then tightened to the poin t w here the knuckles turned white. His face grew scarlet, his feature s t wisting in smoldering anger.

  "Sons of bitches!" Harvey shouted at long last.

  "Those ignorant, bigoted bastards!" Sara said nothing.

  Harvey stood up, his rage mounting with each passing second.

  "How could I have been so stupid? I knew it and I didn't do a goddam n t hing. Of course Markey was working for them, the callous son of a b itch." He shook his head.

  "Sanders and Jenkins I expected it from but your father, Sara he call s h imself a man of medicine. A healer. Yet he joined forces with them.

  What kind of man is he?"

  Her voice was soft.

  "I don't know."

  "They're going to pay. The world is going to know what they did." Hi s s houlders slumped, and the tired aura surrounded him again.

  "It's a constant battle, Sara. It never ends. Bigots, homophobes, naiv e p eople. AIDS has so many strikes against it, I sometimes wonder if w e w ill ever be able to rid the world of it."

  He moved back to his chair and sat down heavily. He spun the chair on e h undred eighty degrees and stared at the photograph of his brother.

  "Do you remember when the AIDS scare first began?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "There was talk of locking the carriers in concentration camps , remember? There was even talk of quarantining all known homosexuals.

  Nazi tactics, Sara. That's what it started with. You don't hear muc h t alk about that now, but in a way the threat to gays is greater now tha n e ver."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "Guys like Jerry Falwell and Ernest Sanders have become more subtle now.

  They have the same bigoted aim, but they take a different approach. An d i t works. People fall for it. We are bombarded by arguments that sa y a IDS will never become epidemic in the heterosexual community. Respecte d d octors like your father say it every day. But the larger question i s n ot the severity with which AIDS will strike the heterosexual community , but why we feel it is necessary to argue the point so vehemently."

  "I don't understand."

  Harvey's voice was both passionate and pained.

  "Okay, let's assume for a moment it is true. It's not. But for the sak e o f argument, let's assume your father is right and that AIDS will be a t rue epidemic only amongst homosexuals and intravenous drug abusers. So w hat? If your father and his cohorts are not being discriminatory, a s t hey claim, why should it matter what segment of the population is bein g k illed by the virus? If we found out that AIDS was only killing littl e g irls between the ages of five and twelve, would someone dare come ou t a nd say, Don't worry, it won't affect you." Of course not. Homophobi a f uels these people, Sara. It's a battle we constantly wage. The tune ha s c hanged but the song is still the same."

  "So what do we do?"

  "We scrape and claw and battle back. We do everything we can to figh t t hem. We go to the media and destroy them."

  "But it might make them panic. If they are holding Michael ..."

  He nodded, stepped back.

  "I see what you are saying. Have you told Lieutenant Bernstein?"

  "Yes."

  "What did he say?"

  "Not to do anything until he gets back."

  "Where is he?"

  "In Bangkok."

  "What is he doing there?" "He said he might have a lead on something."

  "Christ, I hope so. We could use a break." Harvey leaned forward.

  "So what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Sit around and let th e m urderers stay free?"

  "Max isn't so sure that Sanders is behind the murders or th e k idnapping."

  "Then who?"

  "He doesn't know. He just said he has his doubts."

  "And what about you, Sara? Do you have your doubts?"

  "I guess I do."

  "Well, it makes sense to me," Harvey said.

  "Sanders kidnapped Michael to stall the clinic, plain and simple.

  Markey knew that I was the only person who had worked on Michael "

  "And Eric."

  Confusion crossed Harvey's face for a brief moment.

  "No, Sara, I mean as far as having physical contact with the patient.

  I gave Michael all his SRI injections. I always drew his blood. I "

  "Eric took his blood too."

  Harvey stopped.

  "When?"

  "I don't know. A day or two before he was kidnapped."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Of course. I was right there. Is that a problem?"

  He shook his head.

  "It's just weird," he said slowly.

  "I left strict instructions for no one to do any lab work or give an y m edication to Michael except me."

  "Maybe he didn't see them," Sara said.

  "Or maybe he forgot."

  "Maybe," Harvey agreed, but he did not sound convinced.

  "Why don't you ask him?" "I will," he said, "as soon as he gets back."

  Harvey looked up and tried to smile reassuringly. He failed.

  "Don't look at me like that, Sara. I'm sure it's nothing."

  "Hey, Joe, you wan
t live sex show? Pea shooting contest, huh?

  Sound good, Joe. Pea shooting contest?"

  "Pea shooting contest?" Max repeated.

  "Yeah, sure, Joe. You like pea shooting contest. She aim straw and bus t b alloon. Guess what she blows with, huh, Joe?"

  Max, no stranger to quirky sexual situations, was not sure he understoo d w hat the Thai teenager was talking about. He also wasn't sure he wante d t o know, years ago, before he had met Lenny, Max and a couple of friend s s pent a week in Amsterdam's red light district. They had seen a sho w w here a woman projected various objects across a room using a certai n p art of her anatomy.

  Admittedly, most people would consider Max's sexual orientation bizarre , but he failed to see the show's eroticism no matter which particula r s exual persuasion you happened to follow. More like watching an amazin g p et trick or a strange magic show.

  "What you say, Joe? You want nice woman. Make your head spin all the wa y a round."

  An interesting image.

  "Which head?"

  "Huh, Joe?"

  "Never mind. No, thanks."

  He forced his way through the clusters of sex merchants, keeping his ey e o n the pink neon sign that read Eager Beaver.

  Two men stood at the door. The smaller man greeted Max with a wide smil e a nd a firm handshake; the larger greeted him with a menacing glare. Mut t a nd Jeff.

  "Welcome," the little one shouted above the loud disco music.

  "Please come in. You find everything you want here. No cover charge."

  "Thanks."

  Max ducked past the sumo-sized doorman and entered the Eager Beaver.

  The interior decorator must have worked on the original Dating Game.

  Very sixties. Very go-go bar-like. Mod Squad decor. Psychedelic , multicolored lights.

  The music was strictly Saturday Night Fever. The singer screamed about a b urning, burning, disco inferno. Despite the fast beat, the toples s w omen (a string bikini bottom made then?

  topless rather than fully naked) danced slowly on the bar, the sam e s teps over an dover again. Max stared at their faces, but none looke d b ack. Each wore a bored expression dead, unseeing eyes which lit up onl y w hen money was jammed into their crotches.

  Michael is in here somewhere ..."Swing it, baby!" a man yelled.

  The girl smiled and obliged. She got 100 Thai baht (four dollars) fo r h er trouble. She lowered herself toward the man, enticing him to add t o h er booty, but he waved her off.

  The crowd was a mix. Hard-core hard-ups. Curious tourists.

  Married couples. Thais, Japanese, Americans, Italians, Germans , Australians a horny United Nations. In a corner, people cheered a sexua l a ct that defied both belief and biological realities. Ripley's, Ma x t hought. Or even Guiness. Two naked women were on their hands and knees , one Asian, one black. They were Jesus, he couldn't believe it shootin g b ananas across the room with their vaginas. Bananas, for chrissake. A m an marked the spot where they landed, measuring the distance travele d l ike he was working the discus toss at the Olympics.

  Another man kept loading their vaginas with bananas, as though the tw o w omen were human grenade launchers. Banana after banana rocketed acros s t he room to the roar of the crowd.

  Max turned away.

  Michael is close by ... He sat at the bar in a seat that spun all th e w ay around. Max liked it and began to twirl himself like a kid at a d iner. Nearly two seconds passed before a Thai girl approached him , dressed in Classical American Hooker Drag. Tank top with satin short s t hat not only rode up the crotch but actually dug a deeper crevasse.

  The whores varied in age, but this one looked like she had just gotten a h old of Mommy's make-up case.

  "Hi," she said.

  She was no more than fifteen and had smooth, beautiful skin.

  Her looks were startling fresh and engaging, in the baby-doll mode s o m any men found attractive.

  "Hi."

  Her smile was wide, bright, and somehow cunning.

  "You buy me drink?"

  "Why not? What would you like?"

  "What you having?"

  "Vodka on the rocks."

  "I have same please."

  Max signaled the bartender and gave him the order. The bill came t o t welve dollars five dollars for his drink, seven for the girl's. Befor e m ax could protest, the bartender pointed to the sign.

  "Beer $3 Liquor $5 Hostess Drinks $7."

  Hostess?

  "What your name?" she asked.

  "Max."

  "Nice name. You live in America, Max?"

  He began to twist his hair around his finger.

  "Yes."

  "Nice place, no?"

  "I like it."

  "How come you always moving, Max?"

  "We call it fidgeting."

  "How come you always fidgeting, Max?"

  "Don't know."

  "You in Bangkok on business or pleasure?"

  Max tried to smile, tried to get into the role of adventurous womanizer.

  It wasn't him.

  "A little of both, if you get my meaning."

  He winked pitifully.

  Jesus.

  Her tiny hand found its way to his leg.

  "You like me, Max?"

  She licked the air as though it were an ice cream cone and leane d f orward. Her eyes burrowed into his until he had to turn away.

  "Very much."

  "How much pleasure you want, Max?"

  "A hundred dollars' worth," he said, "to start."

  She nodded.

  "What you like?"

  Max cleared his throat.

  "The Kink Room."

  She froze.

  "You been here before, Max?"

  "No. A friend told me about it."

  She nodded again, more professional now.

  "Kink Room expensive."

  "I can pay."

  Yet another nod. Her hand was about a millimeter away from his groi n n ow. Her very long, red-painted fingernails skimmed the surface of hi s p ants with a feathery stroke. Surprisingly, something close to arousa l c rept in. Her touch was soothing, relaxing. It felt frighteningly goo d s ort of strange for a man who usually got excited by male body builder s n ot that Max had never been with women. He had. He just preferred men , that's all.

  She moved her hand away.

  "Pay man over there, Max, and then we go upstairs. We have much fu n t ogether. I tear you whole world apart."

  He nodded, wondering if that was better than having his head spin al l t he way around. Tough choice.

  He bit down on a little piece of skin hanging off his fingertip and di d a s he was instructed. The young pimp looked like a welterweigh t c ontender small, muscular, without an ounce of body fat.

  "How kinky you want it?"

  "Very." "You sure you want Kink Room?" the pimp asked.

  "Very expensive. Very dangerous."

  "I'm sure. How much?"

  "$200 for entrance. But if you want to use red wall, extra.

  Much extra. You let me know, okay?"

  The red wall?

  After a few moments of negotiating, they settled on a price tag of $175.

  Max paid the money. Immediately, the Thai girl appeared at his side an d l ed him up the stairs, whispering the usual whore expressions about wha t f un they were going to have and what a hunk he was.

  "What is your name?" he interrupted her.

  "Bambi."

  A traditional Thai name.

  "How old are you?"

  "Old enough."

  "For what?"

  Again, the ice-cream-cone lick.

  "To make you happy."

  "Why do you do this, Bambi?"

  "Do what?"

  The oppressive heat was even worse here than downstairs.

  They were in the darkened hallway now, the painting chipped, th e l ighting nearly nonexistent. Max shuddered as they passed the door i n t he corner with a Do Not Enter sign stapled to it.

  H
e managed not to hesitate.

  "Prostitute yourself."

  She looked at him.

  "Why?"

  "Just asking. You seem like an intelligent " For a brief moment th e s mile disappeared and he could see the naked hatred underneath it. "Yo u g oing to take me away from all this, Max?" A touch of scorn had slippe d i nto her voice. But then the moment was over. Like a candle that ha d f lickered, the smile came back and seemed to brighten.

  "Come," she said.

  "I will be your fantasy. Then you go home happy, okay?"

  She opened the door. The first thing that hit him was the odor.

  Some sort of cherry room freshener had been sprayed in heavy doses , trying to conceal the still unmistakably foul smell of ... of sleaze.

  Sleaze permeated every part of the room, as if the very acts had nestle d i nto the walls like thousands of tiny cockroaches, rotting th e f oundations. Max shivered.

  Where did his unease come from? he wondered. He had been in bathhouses , even heavy-duty mass orgies and yet something about this roo m i ntimidated him. There was just something so ... so blatantl y d ehumanizing.

  As far as the physical lay-out, well, suffice to say that room was aptl y n amed the Kink Room. On one wall hung dildoes, lots of them, of shape s a nd sizes that boggled the imagination. Some were barely phallic. Whips , chains, handcuffs, ropes, straitjackets, leather masks, bondage an d s ubmission devices of all sorts covered shelves on his left. And the n s traight ahead, on a red colored wall ... he walked over to get a close r l ook.

  "Jesus."

  The red wall.

  He spun back toward Bambi who was huddled in a corner now. The smile wa s s till there, but her eyes had suddenly filled with pure terror.

  "Red wall extra, Max." Pause.

  "You want?"

  He looked again, not believing what he was seeing. A stun gun A goddam n p olice stun-gun. Enough volts of electricity to make a body spasm lik e a n epileptic's during a seizure.

  "People use this on you?" he asked.

  She did not respond for a few seconds, only smiling.

  "Not on me. Other girls."

  He put the stun-gun back and picked up a.. Jesus Christ ... an electri c c attle prod. Kinky was one thing, but this went beyond simple sadism.

  He had heard about such things, men who enjoyed zapping nipples or eve n a clitoris, but his mind had dismissed it as mind-boggling fiction.

  "Sometimes," Bambi said, "they want me to use."

  "Huh?"

  "On them," she continued.