25
I told Bailey and Timmy that it was up to me to do what had to be done next. I was the one who had gotten Father Morgan charged with murder and I was the one who had outed the bishop. So the rest of it was up to me too. They agreed.
Bailey said he hoped to hear from me soon. I said I hoped he would, too. He offered Timmy a ride into Albany, and I gassed up the car and drove over to Elmwood Place.
I could see from the bottom of the street that two cars were in the Rutka driveway, in the process of being loaded with suitcases and boxes. I waited around the corner and half an hour later, when the two vehicles passed me, I followed the station wagon, in which Eddie Sandifer rode next to the driver.
We hit the interstate network around Albany, then took the Thruway south. At some point I lost the second car but stuck with the one Sandifer rode in. By one-thirty we were on the Major Deegan heading southeast. I had no food in the car and my headache was back. I offered the toll collector on the Triborough Bridge ten dollars for a candy bar if he had one. He said twenty and I called him a name and drove on. Briefly distracted, I lost the wagon for a panicky quarter of a minute but caught sight of it ahead on the always slow approach to the bridge, which we both crept across. Sandifer's car headed out past LaGuardia, then onto the Van Wyck and finally into JFK.
The late-afternoon near-gridlock hadn't hit the airport yet and we cruised into the lot across from the International Departures complex. I parked and slouched down and watched them unload. The boxes were left in the wagon, but three of Sandifer's bags were pulled out and the two men carried them across the loop roadway and into the Mexicana Airlines departure lobby. After they were inside the building, I followed.
I saw the three of them-Sandifer, his Queer Nation chum, and John Rutka-hugging one another at the end of a long check-in line. Rutka was wearing shades and a tacky blond wig, but there was no mistaking the Byronic profile.
I walked over and said, 'Don't you guys ever eat? How about some lunch? Eddie, you're rich, so you can pay.'
Sandifer fell backwards, breathing hard, and the Queer Nation man glared and stepped toward me. Rutka just grinned and took off his shades and extended his hand.
I grasped it and said, 'Nice work, John. It was your piece de resistance. An outer's masterpiece.'
He looked at me levelly. His wild eye wasn't wandering at all. 'I knew you'd appreciate it, Strachey, when you figured it out.
Even if I hadn't wanted so badly to get McFee, I still would have enjoyed doing it to earn your appreciation and approval.' He grinned contentedly.
'Appreciation, yes, but I have to tell you I don't approve. No, John, I don't approve at all. A Father Andrew Morgan is scheduled for arraignment an hour from now on a charge of murder. Your murder. You claim to be a man after justice.
Is that fair?'
He shrugged. 'The guy had it coming. He helped the degenerate McFee cover up his hypocrisy so that McFee could go on contributing to gay oppression with his bigotry and contempt and insane self-hatred. I don't give a shit about Morgan.'
'I'm not going to let it happen,' I said.
He grinned. 'Swell. Good. I don't give a fuck what you do. I outed McFee. That's all I really wanted to do. I accomplished what I stayed in Albany to do. By the way, thanks for your help. You'll be paid, of course. Eddie told you that, didn't he?'
I said, 'Eddie wasn't in on it, was he? He didn't know.'
He looked less cocky now. 'No,' he said.
'You set it all up, but you didn't tell him. He actually thought you'd been killed. How could you do that to him?'
Sandifer, calmer now than when I'd walked in on them, but still shaky, said, 'It's all right. It was like a miracle. Yeah, I was kind of upset and pissed off for a while. But I got John back and that's all I care about now.'
'I hated to do it,' Rutka said. 'I really did. But Eddie's grief was an important part of what made it look real. After the scams we'd run, it was the only way to go. Maintaining credibility was everything on this one. He understands. I knew he would.'
'That's right,' Sandifer said. 'It was the smartest way to organize it.'
I looked at Rutka and said, 'How come you've got teeth in your mouth? I thought you left them with the corpse that got burned up.'
'I had a new set made first,' he said calmly. 'Here in the city. Under another name. The name I'm traveling under that's on my nifty set of fake IDs made up by one of the nation's finest queer counterfeiters. I'm John Gunderson now. Nice, huh? I'll be a Swede for a while and spread socialism in Mexico.'
I shook my head and wondered if I was missing something here. 'John,' I said, 'if you fly to Mexico today, you'll really be wasting everybody's time. All the rest of it aside, insurance fraud is considered a serious matter in police and judicial circles.
You're going to be extradited and tried and convicted and imprisoned for many, many years.'
He looked suddenly somber. 'Not if you don't tell them where I am,' he said.
The chutzpah. 'But why wouldn't I?' I said. 'Of course I'm going to tell them, you twit! I'll probably phone Bub Bailey from here, in fact, and get him to have the plane held up, and have airport security hold you until the police arrive. Of course I'm going to tell them! Especially after the way you used me, how the hell do you think I'm going to react to this latest of your outrages?
Huh?'
He said, 'No, you won't. I knew enough about you, Strachey, to be sure that even if you caught up with me this soon, you'd let me go once I told you a couple of things there's no way you could have known up to now.'
'What do you mean? What don't I know?'
'My T-cell count. It's about two. All but nonexistent.'
'Shit,' I said, and looked at the other two. They nodded.
Rutka said grimly, 'I probably have a few months, maybe weeks, before I have my first infection. Eddie and I are both HIV-positive, but for some reason his count is normal and he's perfectly healthy, and I'm not. We're giving the money to a clinic some friends of ours started in Merida where they're developing alternative treat-ments the system here is too slow or too corrupt to let people try. We're going there to stay until we're cured or until we die.
Either way, we'll pay our own way and also help a lot of other people the system has given up on.'
'By alternative, you mean crackpot, quack-unscientific New Age bullshit. It's a joke.'
'A treatment is only a quack treatment if it doesn't work. The forty-two men at the Valladolid Clinic have faith. So do I. So does Eddie.'
'Has the system here given up on you? You haven't given it a chance. You're nuts, Rutka. You're wackier than I ever imagined.'
'No,' he said, 'the system here hasn't given up on me. I've given up on it. It's all profits and egos and bureaucrats and politicians and bullshit, and I've had enough of it, that's all. Right now I have the strength to deal with it, but sometime soon I won't. I have to start thinking of myself, protecting myself. So I'm out of here.'
We glared at each other, hard. I said, 'How do I know this isn't just more of your bullshit-another one of your scams? I've heard all about you in Handbag. You lie as naturally as you eat candy. You're a pathological liar and have been for most of your life. I don't believe a word you say, Rutka.'
His eyes were cold now, and he said, 'I didn't always lie. I learned to lie. Do you know who I learned it from?'
'I know.'
'The man is devilish.'
'I think you're right about that.'
'And I've had him exorcised.'
