But his mind quickly returned to the other matter.
“Hello, Dr. Riker.”
Harvey turned toward the familiar voice. “Hey, Bradley, how you feeling?”
Bradley Jenkins, the senator’s son, smiled at Harvey. “Much better, thanks.”
“Any problems?”
Bradley shook his head. “Right now I feel great. It’s like some sort of a miracle… I just don’t know how long it will last.”
Harvey looked at the soft-spoken young man. Sara had introduced Harvey to Bradley years ago, well before Bradley had become his patient or even suspected he had AIDS. “Neither do we, Bradley,” he said in a serious tone. “The important thing is to continue the treatment. Stopping in the middle can be more dangerous than the disease itself.”
“I’d be crazy to stop.”
“When is your next visit?”
Bradley never answered because his father stepped between them. “Not another word,” Senator Jenkins hissed at Harvey. “Follow me.”
Harvey did as the senator asked. He followed him down the long corridor, keeping a yard or two between them. Senator Stephen Jenkins stopped at the last door, opened it, glanced back down the corridor to make sure no one was looking, and then waved for Harvey to enter. He closed the door behind them.
They were in Dr. Lowell’s library now, a huge, two-level room jammed from floor to high ceiling with thick, leather-covered books. There was a sliding ladder to facilitate getting volumes from the higher shelves and a catwalk that circled the room like a running track. Dark oak was the color of the shelves, the floor, the furniture.
Senator Jenkins began to pace. “You should know better than to speak to my son in public.”
“We were just talking,” Harvey said. “This is a party. People talk.”
“Do you know what would happen if people found out the truth about Bradley?”
Harvey paused. “Peace in the Middle East?”
“Don’t get cute with me, Riker.”
“Nuclear Armageddon? The end of
“I owe you, Dr. Riker, but don’t push me.”
Harvey’s tone was brisk. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“You saved my son’s life.”
“We don’t know that. Only time will tell for sure.”
“Still,” the senator said, “it is encouraging. I’m very grateful.”
“I’m touched.”
“I also heard about the death of your partner, Dr. Grey. My condolences.”
“Care to make a public donation to his favorite charity?”
The senator chuckled without humor. “No.”
“Then how about getting the Senate to vote us more funds?”
“You know I can’t do that. The media and my opponents will tear me apart.”
“For helping cure a deadly disease?”
“For spending the voters’ hard-earned tax dollars to help a bunch of immoral, limp-wristed perverts.”
“Like your son?”
The senator lowered his head. “Low blow, Riker. Very low. If it ever got out that Bradley was…” He stopped.
“Gay?” Harvey finished for him. “Is that the word you’re looking for? Well, it won’t. Not from me, at least.”
“Then I’ll do what I can to help the clinic — discreetly, of course.” Senator Jenkins paused for a moment, thinking. “Besides,” he continued, “there are other ways to raise more money without involving me.”
“Like how?”
“Make your results public.”
“It’s still too early.”
“It’s never too early,” Jenkins said. “You don’t think there’re rumors about your success in Washington? How do you think I found out about it? All you have to do is show the media some of your test cases. Show them that Krutzer kid or Paul Leander.”
Harvey almost smiled. “What about Bradley? The son of a senator would certainly draw more attention than a couple of unknown gays.”
“You can’t use him.”
“Even if it means saving more lives — or is your son the only homosexual worth saving?”
“You cannot use Bradley, Riker. That’s final. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Senator. I understand that some things are more important than human lives — like reelection campaigns.”
The senator stepped closer. He was a big man and he towered over the smaller doctor. “I’m getting a little tired of your moral outrage, Dr. Riker. You’re out of your league here, and I’ve seen smaller mistakes ruin a man.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, I’m warning you. Someone might decide to step on you if you become too bothersome.”
Harvey returned the senator’s glare. “You must be mistaking me for somebody who gives a shit,” he replied evenly. “If my clinic goes down the tubes, a certain right-wing, narrow-minded senator from Arkansas would go with me.”
Senator Jenkins shook his head. “You’re so goddamn blind, Riker. You don’t even understand what you’re involved in here.”
“So tell me.”
“Your cause has more than its share of enemies,” Jenkins continued. “There are plenty of people who would not mind putting an end to your research. Powerful people.”
“Like you?”
Jenkins stepped back and shook his head. “I’m just trying to save my son’s life,” he said softly. “But there are important people who want the clinic closed… permanently.”
“I’m aware of that. I can handle it.”
Senator Stephen Jenkins walked toward the door and opened it. “No,” he said, “I don’t think you can.”
Sara stared at Michael and Cassandra. Her hand gripped her cane to the point where her knuckles turned white. She fought off the desire to bash Cassandra with the same cane. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. Sara knew that she was playing into her sister’s hands, that Cassandra was just trying to bait her. But Sara still felt a flush of anger and jealousy that colored her cheeks red.
Lord knew she should be used to Cassandra by now.
Sara cleared her throat and began to step toward them when somebody blocked her path.
“Good evening, Miss Lowell.”
Sara looked up, surprised. “Good evening, Reverend Sanders.”
“Please,” the minister said, his famous smile spread across his face, “a moment of your time.”
He escorted her toward the empty corridor and out of view.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Sara began.
“The Holy Crusade is a large contributor to your father’s organization,” he explained. “Your father had no choice but to invite a representative from our organization. Since I’ve always wanted to meet the prestigious Dr. Lowell, I decided to be that representative.”
“I see,” Sara replied.
“Yes, Miss Lowell, despite your biased hatchet job on the Holy Crusade and what we believe as God-fearing —”
