Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2006 11:15:00 EDT
From: Jetjt@aol.com
Subject: Super Jeff, Ch. 16

The following is a story of gay fiction. If the subject matter is offensive
to you or you are too young, please exit now. This story is the property of
the author and may not be reproduced without permission. John Tucker,
JETjt@aol.com


					SUPER JEFF

				         Chapter Sixteen

JEFF'S POV

I couldn't believe Amanda!  It was like a new person had come home. She was
truly nice. My mind was just saying `Whoa! When is the volcano going to
erupt?'  I'm glad Ed agreed with me. He'd been around her so many times
over the years that he knew the real Amanda, at least the old one. I really
loved the new Mandy, and I for sure wasn't going to break the spell, but
out of self-protection, I wasn't going to swallow the hook completely. I
liked Mandy's new boyfriend Rick Forbes too. I wasn't sure if Ben's hunch
was valid or not. I mean, it's not like Mandy hadn't been around a gay
brother for years. If Rick was gay, I'm pretty sure that she'd know it. I
thought it fairly certain they'd been together in the sack too, so unless
he was an extremely skillful actor, I doubt that he could fool her. Maybe
he wasn't a number one straight guy, but I thought he was at least a three,
on a scale of one-to-ten. I'd like him even if he was a number 10 gay,
because he seemed so nice, but I'm sure that would end up in sorrow for my
sister, which in spite of our history as siblings, I didn't want.

Dinner and the evening went well. It was nice getting to know Rick and we
all had a comfortable, fun time exchanging quips and stories. Around 9
o'clock when there was a break in the conversation Amanda pulled me aside.

"Jeff," she said, "Could we talk privately for a while?"

"Sure Mandy," I said smiling. "I'd like to talk with you too. Let me make
our excuses, then we can go into the office."

She nodded and I found Chris.

"Chris Babe, would you act as host with Rick and Ben?  Amanda and I need
some private time. It might be an hour or thereabouts."

"Yes Cute Guy. I'd be glad to," he replied with an accommodating smile. "I
noticed that there were a number of subjects that you two skated around in
our conversation during and after dinner. Please tell her for me though,
that I really am impressed with her, and like her a lot."

"I'll do that," I promised, grateful for his help.

Turning I saw that Amanda had already headed for dad's study. I followed
and closed the heavy paneled door behind me. She was seated in one of two
comfortable armchairs that faced the fireplace. I took the one that was
vacant.

"Chris is playing host," I announced. "I hope that's alright. By the way,
he told me that he is very impressed with you and that he likes you a lot."

"That's sweet. I'm no expert in gay love, but I'd guess that he's a
keeper," she replied with a sweet, genuine smile.

"You're the only one except him that I've told this. I'm sure I've lost my
heart to him," I admitted.

"I'd say you're both lucky. What do you think of Rick?"

"I'd say the same thing that you said about Chris. He's a keeper. I'm sure
that his family is socially prominent but he seems unspoiled by it^Åmaybe a
little bit stiff, but unspoiled."

"It's the stiff part I like the best," she said playing with my response.

I laughed and then responded, "I'll bet."

"Just keep your mitts off of him," she said laughingly, "he's mine."

"I'd never dream of cutting in on you Mandy. You're my sister."

"I guess that's what I wanted to talk to you first about," she
began. "While we were growing up, I was a real bitch to you. I'd like to
apologize."

In spite of my shock, I quickly replied, "I accept your apology, if you'll
accept mine. It takes two to tango^Å or is that tangle?"

"Both I guess," she said, looking more at ease.

"Do you mind if I ask what brought on the change in you?" I asked.

"Oh, I guess I always had a self image that I was too good for everyone
else. When I got to college I found two types of girls that I associated
with. One was like me, the hoity-toity rich bitches that were stuck on
themselves. If you think I had my nose in the air, you should meet some of
them!  Yikes! I'm surprised there was oxygen up that high! The second group
I really got to know were the people in the dramatic arts. For the most
part they were very real, even though they were also good actors. I found
that I liked them a lot more than the `Society Chicks'. I liked the guys
too, even the ones who were gay. Unfortunately I was one of those people I
didn't like. One of the girls in drama named Carol was nice enough to
overlook my attitude and we became friends. She was everything I wanted to
be: nice, pretty, down-to-earth, genuine and loving. She took me under her
wing and had to ignore my outrageous behavior more than once. We eventually
became not only friends, but best friends after I found myself deep into a
slow, but strangely satisfying attitude change. During the few times I came
home during that time period, I reverted back to my former persona. I'm not
sure why. This time though, I'm hoping you see the real, changed me."

"It's a you that I really like," I said sincerely. "I guess I don't quite
get it though: you got off your high horse to mingle with the masses, then
end up with Mr. High Society? It seems strange to me."

"Let's just say that Rick and I got off the same kind of horse and we found
each other."

"That's cool," I smiled. "What's Rick studying?"

"He's going to be a lawyer," she replied.

"Actor=Lawyer^Å. Good match," I kidded. "A good lawyer is also a good
actor."

"I never thought of that," she said laughing. "Wait `til I tell Rick you
said that."

She continued, but changed the subject.

"Tell me about Chris and Ben," She queried. "Also I heard that your friend
Donnie Smith was killed in an auto accident. I'm really so sorry."

"Thanks," I said. Her mention of it brought my mind around to tomorrow's
visitation. Clearing those thoughts quickly, I recounted again the events
that had occurred since school was out. She listened with rapt attention
without many comments. When I had finished, she sat back in her chair
mulling over what I had told her.

"I'm amazed little brother," she started. "I never knew you like that. I
always thought that you were like me, too into yourself. I like the new
Jeff too and want to know him better."

I smiled, grateful that we had found each other in a way I'd never known or
believed possible. I guess she was right. I'd changed too.

"I guess you can thank Chris for that," I explained. "I was immediately
attracted to him, but he's done more for me than I have for him. I guess
for the first time I'm enjoying the view from the ground, not from the
lofty heights. Because of that, I've found that I've gotten back far more
than I've given."

"Humility becomes you Jeff," Amanda said with a small but genuine smile.

"Likewise," I replied.

"I think that since I've come home, my transformation is now complete," she
continued. "Even on the way here, ugly thoughts kept coming into my head. I
guess I was getting ready to battle with you again. When I finally got my
thoughts calmed down, I realized that you were more of a credit than I had
ever admitted and I decided to make a conscious effort to be nice. I knew
too that we had to work together through this family crisis."

"I wondered if your niceness was an act," I admitted, "but I liked the new
Amanda so much that I didn't want to break the spell."

"Thanks for being honest, baby brother. I must admit that at first it was
pretty much a put-on. Then I felt welcomed to my own home in a way I'd
never felt before. Rick noticed the difference in me too and told me so. He
liked the kind and considerate Amanda he was seeing, the one who wasn't
temperamental. I hope that being decent is no longer an act. Quite frankly
I'm tired of the pretense."

"I'll do my best to keep a cool head and not tempt you to switch back," I
promised with a grin that belied my seriousness. "There's too much to
gain."

"Let's change the subject," Mandy said. "What are we going to do about Mom
and Dad?"

"I don't understand." I questioned. "What can we do?"

"I didn't mean about finding them. I know that's out of our hands," she
replied. "I meant, what are we going to do if they don't come back?"

"I can't believe that they won't," I said. "When I heard they were missing,
and later when it was reported that they were dead, I just couldn't really
believe it. I don't think I really would have been fully convinced until
their bodies were in front of me. I was going through the motions, but
that's all. Somehow I just didn't believe that God would take them away
when finally it looked like they would become real parents, not just
husband and wife with kids, if you can understand the distinction."

"As well as you understand it Bro," Amanda replied. "I hope you're right,
but that doesn't mean we shouldn't plan. We might not know whether they're
alive or dead for a long time. What do we do in the meantime? What do we do
if they really are dead?"

"I guess we should have a meeting with Ed," I answered. "Dad said he gave
Ed power of attorney while they were gone."

"We need to find out more about our parents' financial assets, even if we
ourselves can't touch them," Mandy asserted. "We need to find out what
provisions they made for us. I know we could survive on just our trusts,
but what about the house?  Is it paid for?  Can we afford to keep it if it
isn't?  I know it's not important right this second, but we need to talk
more about what we want to do as individuals. I'll be 21 soon and so I'll
be an adult in every legal way, but what about you? You have a few years to
go yet. We need to think and find out about these and other questions
before school starts and I'm gone. Hell, I'm not even sure what the parents
have reserved, if anything, for our education. If there's no money set
aside for mine, I may have to come back here and go to a state school that
I can afford with my trust money."

"I get your point, Mandy," I said. "To be honest I haven't thought too much
about it. I should though. It could affect not only my future, but Chris'
too, and maybe even Ben's. I'll call Ed tomorrow and we'll have a
meeting. In the meantime, let's write down any questions we have so that we
don't waste his time."

"Sounds great SJ. We'd better get back in with our guests," Amanda
said. "Give the Sis a kiss."

"Eewww! I'd never kiss a girl!" I said.

"Okay for you!" she said, acting hurt. "Then how's about a hug?"

We broke up laughing as we embraced. It felt good.

		* * *

The next morning I woke up beside Chris. I watched him as he slept. He was
so beautiful and so loving. I think he must have grown an inch in the last
month too. He's now almost as tall as I am and if his growth spurt
continues, it will be Chris calling me Shorty.  Ha, Ha.

Yesterday was so full of mixed emotions that it's hard to remember what
caused what. I expect that today will be no better, though I know I'll feel
sad at Donnie's visitation. Even though we weren't best friends, we were
good friends. I'll miss him. My mom once told me that everyone you know has
an influence on you and becomes part of you. Everyone you know `rubs off on
you' and vice versa. Your family and close friends have the greatest
influence, and you have the greatest influence on them. She said that after
years together many couples begin to act and talk like each other. She
explained that that's because they want to please each other and eventually
develop mannerisms and speech patterns that are like their spouses. Then
too they get to know their partner's mind and know their partner's answer
before it's given. Kids develop those things from their parents too. I
guess in that way when we die, we live on through the people we've touched
and influenced. It sure gives some room for thought.

Chris is waking now. I could just stay with him right here for the whole
day. He's such a joy to be with and so cute too.. I could be anywhere with
him and be happy. My only real wish is to make him happy too. It's too bad
in some ways that our future careers will often separate us so that we
can't be together all the time. I'm sure that's good, but right now as I
look at Chris, for the life of me I can't understand how.

"Mmmm^ÅMorning Babe," Chris murmured sleepily.

"You're awake now I see," I said with a happy smile.

"Yeah, can we just stay in bed?" he asked with a tired, but tempting wink.

"'Fraid not pumpkin," I said regretfully. "I'm thinking that we might have
time for a little frolic though before we have to go down and meet the new
day."

"I'd love that," he said almost with shyness.

"Me too," I agreed.

RICK'S POV

Amanda is a perplexing woman. Nevertheless, in some ways we have much in
common. We both come from wealthy society backgrounds, though some in the
East would argue that there is not any society west of NYC, at least none
that counts. I'm sure that our backgrounds gave each of us, as we grew up,
unrealistic views of the real world. I know that mine did. I think I began
to realize that, even in prep school. I began to notice that there was a
different life led by others outside the prep school campus and the walled
enclosure of our estates. At first it was just curiosity. As I grew older I
began to venture outside of those walls and planned events, and found real
people, people who were nice even if they were challenged
financially. Although a few of my comrades in school were nice and
seemingly unaffected by the wealth of their families, most I began to
realize were stuffed shirts with an unearned attitude of self
importance. Once in college, I found a new mix of people. Even then it was
not totally realistic. I mean, you don't go to Harvard unless you have
bucks or are so intelligent that you can get a scholarship. We had bucks,
though tests proved that I was no dummy either.

Pre-law was a challenge because of the high grades needed to get into law
school. At the end of the year I'll face law school which, I'm told, is a
real bitch. I'm working hard as an undergrad to make grades, though my
family's endowments to Harvard are probably enough that I could probably
get in even if my grades weren't stellar. I wanted to get in on my own
merit though, so I've attacked my studies with a vengeance. Once I got into
the pace of school, I found that I still had time for other activities. I'm
not into sports, though I'd given them a try from time to time with some
success. What I really enjoy is the theater. I've been to Broadway plays
and seen everything from drama to comedy, and once or twice even ventured
as far as the Met to see opera, at my parents' insistence. I enjoy the
local theater more. In the vicinity of school there were at least three
companies where drama could be seen. I not only went to see their
productions, but a year or so ago, I even volunteered to help as a
stagehand. It was there I met Amanda. At one rehearsal soon after I'd begun
volunteering, I'd taken a seat out front to watch a rehearsal of a play
where there were mostly young actors, some students, some a bit older. One
of the actors, a very cute girl took my breath away. She was so good and so
attractive that not only were my emotions responding, but so was my
body. After one very good scene I couldn't help myself but say in a low
voice, "Bravo!"  I looked around to see if anyone could have heard me,
since they took a dim view of people making noise, other than the actors or
the director.  I saw nearby in my aisle a young lady who had obviously
watched and heard my display of enthusiasm.

"I agree," she said quietly, with a friendly smile. "She's very good."

I blushed a bit, knowing that I'd been caught.

"She's my friend," the attractive young lady added proudly. "Her name is
Amanda Richards."

My mind grasped that name like a trap holds a bear. I couldn't believe that
I hadn't seen her before. "Do you both live here?" I whispered.

"We're students, and this semester we're roommates," she responded. "We
probably shouldn't be talking. Stick around and I'll introduce you when the
practice is over. It should be soon. By the way, my name is Carol."

My smile was so big that you could have been blinded by the glare from my
teeth.

"Thanks Carol, I will. My name is Rick." I said as quietly as my pent up
emotions would allow. We both turned our heads and again watched the action
taking place on the stage.

Twenty-five minutes later, I met the girl of my dreams. I fell instantly in
love. She seemed to like me too, though I wasn't sure how much. Apparently
it was enough though, because the very next day she agreed to a dinner date
on Sunday, the only day when there were no rehearsals.

It was there at that dinner that I began to know Amanda Richards. She was a
strange person. Much different than I imagined she would be. It was like
there were two people inside her. Most often she was a true delight. At
other times another side of her personality was exposed. I knew the type
well: `Rich Kid, Spoiled Kid.' I stayed away from that type as much as
possible. In spite of that, I knew I had to keep seeing her.

In getting to know Amanda, I also got to know her friend Carol. Once while
I was waiting for Amanda to finish getting ready to go out, I commented to
Carol on my observations of her roommate. Carol smiled, nodded and then
said that if I really was interested in Amanda that I should be
patient. She said that Mandy, as she called her, was in conflict with her
upbringing and was just beginning to see the real world. Over time I saw
that she was right. In the meantime, I was careful to downplay my family's
wealth and social position. I told her that my family was in the printing
business, which was like saying that the President is a politician. She,
likewise, told me that her father was in medicine and that her mother was a
teacher. Both revelations were true but were gross understatements.

 We continued to date, both during the summer when she was playing summer
stock, and during school. During that year I saw her `snob' side diminish
to rare flare-ups. While I'd always wanted her physically, I knew by then
that I wanted to be in her presence to share my life with her, a feeling
much more intense than merely wanting her body. I could feel that she was
starting to feel the same. In the Fall, I'd asked her to go steady and she
agreed. It was afterward when we first became intimate. Then, as
Thanksgiving approached, I knew that it was time to take her home to meet
the family. I asked her out on a `special date,' where I intended to `come
clean,' about my family and background. We discovered that we'd played the
same game. It was impossible to be upset about the deception since we
realized how really alike we were, having tried the same trick. We ended up
laughing. It was then I asked her home for Thanksgiving.

When we reached my parents' home, she was more than a little impressed by
the estate, yet said very little to my parents, except for politely
expressing her admiration of our home and her gratitude for the invitation
to visit. My parents loved her, which made things much easier. She handled
my parents' `third degree' interview like she'd come over on the
Mayflower. I was concerned that she might revert to her prior attitude
being in such surroundings, but she managed to keep her head, coming across
as a sophisticated, cultured young woman, seemingly unconcerned about
material trappings except for the beauty and tastefulness they conveyed. It
was the right combination to impress my parents and their attitude toward
her reflected their acceptance of my choice. When we were ready to leave,
my father took me aside and advised me not to lose her. I was more than
happy that Amanda had made such a favorable impression.

On the way back to school, we talked about when I'd get to meet her
family. Her parents and younger brother lived in Palos Verdes, California.
We both expressed a desire to go there as soon as possible, but decided
that it couldn't be at Christmas, since Amanda had committed to be in a
religious play about the birth of Christ just prior to that holiday. We
decided instead that we'd each visit our parents very briefly at Christmas,
then travel back, meeting at Carol's who had extended an invitation for New
Years at her parents' home near school.

In the spring things began to fall apart for Mandy. First she got word that
her parents were missing in Europe. She was told by the government that it
appeared that her folks were kidnapped while in England, and that it would
be best if she would come to Washington D.C. to meet her brother who was
coming from California. She made preparations to go and I offered to go
with her. She accepted, but then on the morning we were to leave, she
called and said that the Government had sent someone to tell her that her
parent's had died in a car accident. I rushed to her side. Even though
aggrieved, she took the news better than I expected. Once the initial shock
was past she explained that her parents were much more detached from her
and her brother than would normally be considered ideal. Their careers and
success, along with their preoccupation with each other, had left her and
her brother Jeff, often on their own. She confessed too, that in spite of
that, her relationship with her brother was worse than poor. Admitting that
she had been much of the cause of their enmity, she expressed her sorrow
that it was so.

Later the same day, she was called by her parents' lawyer that her parents'
bodies would be returning soon to California for burial. She told him that
we would be returning to her parent's home the next day if we could get a
flight. He promised to pick her up at the airport and take care of the
arrangements for her parents' funeral. They agreed to keep in close
contact.

When I had called my parents about the unexpected happenings with Amanda's
parents and about my plans to accompany her to California for the funeral,
my father asked me to express their sympathies, then requested that I also
take care of a small business matter in L.A. while I was there. I thought
that it would be best to get it over and out of the way, so I told him I'd
like to be picked up at the airport, to be later transported to the home of
Amanda's parents once my task had been completed.

On the plane to her home, I could see her expressions change as her
personalities waged war with her emotions. She vocalized little though at
first. We then began to talk about her `moods', and she finally told me of
the struggle with her rich-bitch persona. I told her that I loved her, and
that she could count on me for support. She smiled and thanked me.

After retrieving our luggage at LAX, we met Mr. Macgregor, the lawyer that
she had talked to. It was obvious he had more than just a business
client-attorney relationship with her parents, but was also a friend. We
loaded our luggage into his car and they departed. When they were gone I
took the limo that my parents had sent for my errand. Once that task was
completed, we headed for Palos Verdes.

Upon arrival at the large and beautiful mansion, I was greeted at the door
by a man I presumed to be their butler. Before I could do more than
announce myself Amanda flung herself into my arms. Once we had exchanged
`greetings' (heh, heh), she introduced me to her brother Jeff, his
boyfriend Chris and their black friend Ben. I was somewhat
overwhelmed. Jeff was gorgeous and the spitting image of his sister in a
definitely male format. Chris, his boyfriend, was equally attractive, yet
with a softer, less assured demeanor. As a black guy, Ben was the
champ. His Sugar Ray Leonard looks were only slightly marred by several
small, but not unattractive scars, probably resulting from his life in the
`hood.' If I wasn't straight and in love with Amanda, I'd have seriously
considered switching sides if any one of the three would have considered
playing ball with me.

The three of them immediately made me feel most welcome. It seems that
Mandy's changing attitude had settled into the persona I loved the best,
that of a sweet and simple, but classy, gorgeous girl. Apparently she and
her brother were making an all-out effort to be nice because there was no
indication that there had ever been strife between them. Then came the real
surprise! Jeff announced that there had been a mistake and the dead bodies
in England were not their parents! It was confusing though, because the
badly burned bodies had been found in the Richards' rental car along with
Dr. Richards' credit card. The FBI had been in contact since the discovery
and surmised that the Richards might have been kidnapped. That was the
situation when I arrived.

After a wonderful meal served by Frank, the chef who I'd mistakenly thought
was their butler, we had a pleasant evening getting acquainted. Later in
the evening Jeff and Amanda went into their study, presumably to discuss
their family and personal situations privately, subjects which heretofore
they had avoided in our company. During that time, Chris and Ben kept me
occupied and entertained. Whatever the earlier conflict between Mandy and
Jeff might have been, it appeared to have vanished permanently in that hour
as evidenced by the way they left the study, arms across each other's
shoulders and laughing.

DR. MEL'S POV

Our capture had been unforeseen. After two wonderful days touring the
English countryside we felt like school children on holiday. We were free
from the pressures of medicine as well as academia for the first time in
what seemed like years. As we began to unwind, our romantic interest in
each other had rekindled the spark that the years had tried to
extinguish. We were again totally and fervently in love. It made us realize
too that our careers had made a mess of our relationships with Amanda and
Jeff. We promised that we'd do all we could to eradicate whatever damage
we'd inflicted upon our children immediately upon our return home. As we
began our return to London, we stopped often to inhale the sights and
sounds of this beautiful land. Getting off the main thoroughfare we took
country roads as a detour, just to escape the hubbub of the industry of
civilization. At one juncture as the winding road topped the crest of a
high hill we saw the magnificence of the countryside laid out before
us. Jeffrey pulled to a widened spot off the macadam and we climbed out of
the small coupe to stand in awe of all we could see. A piece of the view
was a tiny country village where we decided to stop for lunch and a `pint'.

 Re-entering our vehicle we checked the traffic and saw a lorry approaching
the hill behind us. It was still far enough away so we pulled back on the
roadway and proceeded toward the small hamlet. Once there we found a place
to park and walked from our parking place toward the front entrance of a
tiny pub. I looked back at the hill from which we'd viewed the village and
saw that the lorry had stopped at the crest too. I could see several
figures but thought nothing of it. After a pleasant lunch Jeff paid the
bill and then together we stepped outside to find our car. As we rounded
the corner of the building three men jumped out and grabbed Jeff who
struggled until they placed something over his mouth and he folded like a
tent.  When I saw that Jeff's attempts to resist were futile, I turned to
run, trying to escape but my efforts were no more effective than his
resistance. Two of the men grabbed me and one quickly slapped a piece of
tape across my mouth as the other removed his hand that had been placed
there to prevent my screaming. In minutes we were bound, gagged and
blindfolded, then thrown bodily into the back of the lorry where our
captors joined us.

The vehicle began to move out of the small village. We rode, bumping and
bouncing, for what seemed like hours in discomfort and pain. Finally
arriving at our destination, we were removed from the vehicle and taken
into some kind of building. I was led by one of the men and the others must
have carried Jeff who remained unconscious. We were taken into an inside
room where I was allowed to relieve myself in a small adjacent bathroom. My
hands were untied and my blindfold was removed so I was able to take care
of the necessities without aid, though the door was left open so they could
see me at all times.  Jeff began to regain consciousness. As I left the
small bathroom two men stood Jeff up and half-dragged him to the small
bathroom and helped steady him while he relieved his bladder. One remained
in the large room with me. Once that task was completed, Jeff was brought
out again and placed on a bed where he was given a hypodermic injection.
He quickly lost consciousness. He was untied and his gag and blindfold
removed. While that was taking place I had been placed in a chair and
ordered to remain there. I could discern that we were locked in a room that
was equipped with barred windows. I was left untied and conscious, but
instructed to tend to my husband should he awaken.

We remained in that room for a second day and night. . I thought of escape,
but could see that it was impossible, and even if I were successful it
would mean leaving my unconscious husband, which I was unwilling to
contemplate. At one time during the second day Jeff began to regain
consciousness. The men reentered the room again taking Jeff stumbling to
the bathroom, then giving him a small glass of water before injecting him
again. This time they also held me and injected me. That's all I remember.

Sometime, much later, I awoke in a new room of captivity. Once I became
cognizant of my surroundings, I realized that Jeffrey was no longer with
me. I began to panic but fought to retain my senses, convincing myself that
Jeff would be returned shortly.

The door to the room was obviously not designed for sound attenuation. I
could hear clearly two men arguing on the other side in a language that was
not English. I listened carefully trying to make out what they were
saying. I immediately recognized that they were speaking in Aramaic, a
language I'd recently extensively studied, and had become more than
passably fluent, even in technical and religious terms. I could understand
that they were interested in Jeff, as I recognized the words for `doctor,'
and `illness.' The door muted some of their words but I found myself
following most of the conversation with ease. From what I could glean from
their conversation, we were taken prisoner so that they could take
advantage of Jeffrey's medical skill in treating their leader. It had to be
serious though and probably dealing with cancer, since that was Jeff's
specialty. It was obvious that they had money, and power too, I
reasoned. We had been captured by several men and they had to have
extensive planning capabilities, plus the ability to transport us out of
the country.  I was certain that we were no longer in England. I could see
no clouds in the sky through the small window of the room, the architecture
of the building I was in was not English, and the air was hot and
dry. Whoever it was, had to be important. But why the subterfuge?  There
was something missing from my deductions. If I knew where we were, maybe I
could figure it out.

DOCTOR JEFF RICHARDS' POV

After I awoke, a bearded man came in to the small room that looked like a
patient room in the hospital. Mel, I was told, was awake and nearby. I had
protested our separation, but was summarily ignored. Answering my
questions, I was told that we were in Syria and that I'd been brought to
examine and treat Osama Bin Laden who had been diagnosed with cancer. The
man then left and I was given the morning to rest and consume the small
plain lunch that had been provided.  I had washed up as well as I could and
put on fresh clothing that they had thankfully brought along. When I
finished eating I scrubbed my hands carefully in the small washroom. Like
most doctors, I never traveled without my medical bag. Thankfully they had
brought it along as well as my clothing. I opened the bag and saw that the
contents were undisturbed.  I sat back down on a small wooden chair that
was provided and waited, pondering our predicament.

Since I had been told who the patient was, I was torn with conflicting
emotions. As an American, and a humanitarian, I abhorred the killing of
innocents by zealots in the name of their religion. The inhumanity they
displayed in their senseless killings in New York, London, and Madrid, as
well as less known attacks elsewhere made my blood boil. Like most, I
wanted revenge. Yet here I was, a doctor, called on to attend and cure the
leader of those beasts who were wantonly waging a war of terror on
civilization. The leader, the most reviled evil man of our times, had
killed thousands without mercy, yet was asking for my help to live. The
Hippocratic Oath that I'd taken to save lives was in direct and wrenching
conflict with my emotions that demanded retribution and justice.

On a more practical plane, I believed without doubt, that if I failed to
cooperate, both Mel and I would be killed and would probably be subjected
to torture before it happened. I knew that I had no choice but to try to
save our lives if possible. It was while thinking those thoughts that the
door opened and I was beckoned to follow the dirty looking man that
appeared in the doorway. I picked up my bag and followed behind him.

After a short walk, during which we saw no one, we arrived in an area that
appeared to be examining rooms. In front of one door sat two men armed with
Russian Assault Rifles. They stood as we approached and looked menacingly
at me, the hate burning in their eyes. The man leading me ignored them and
pushed open the door before stepping inside. I was on his heels as he
entered and stopped. I stepped up beside him.

He announced our arrival in Aramaic or whatever language it was. I looked
to see a man in a dirty white robe seated against the wall near the
examining table.

"Leader Bin Laden," a translator standing next to the seated man intoned in
English for my benefit, "before you is the infidel healer, Doctor Jeffrey
Richards as you ordered."

The man in the chair stood with some difficulty and a smile could be seen
through his unkempt beard. He began speaking in his language, and the
interpreter translated.

"Welcome Dr. Richards," were the repeated words from the translator. "I
trust your journey here was not too uncomfortable."

"It was tolerable I suppose," I answered. "I was sedated the entire time."

"For that I apologize, but it was necessary," the robed man responded with
a slight bow.  "My name is Osama Bin Laden."

"May I ask why we were brought here, and what you plan to do with us Sir?"
I asked with more politeness than I was feeling.

"If you cooperate, you and your wife will be returned, unharmed to your
children, Amanda and Jeffery," he replied through his interpreter.

In spite of my surprise that he knew our children's names, I nevertheless
challenged his promise. "Do you swear that in Allah's Name?" I asked,
knowing that only such a vow had any meaning to him.

When he heard the translation, he became angry, and then slowly regained
control of his feelings.

"It is I, not you, who determines whether or not you live," he said
sharply.

"And it is Allah, not me, who determines when we all shall die," I said
with a determination not to be intimidated.

He smiled.

"That is so," he agreed. "Allah however has given some of us special
skills. It is your skill in healing that is needed now."

"A man does not provide a willing, nor skillful service when his life and
that of his family is threatened," I answered, still determined not to bow
to intimidation.

"If that is what is required, then it shall be given," he acquiesced. "I
pledge that if my treatment is successful, you and your wife will be
returned unharmed to your land and your family," he declared with a raised
hand. "I make this vow in Allah's name."

"Thank you. I hope you realize that I cannot promise full healing," I
hedged, "unless it is also Allah's will."

"And I cannot promise the return of you and your wife unless I am healed,"
he answered. "Do we understand each other?"

"Completely," I responded with resignation. "Now, let's begin.  What have
the doctors told you so far?"

"It seems that I have a tumor, presumably malignant, in my abdomen. The
fools here seem to think that there is no one here who can treat it. On
their recommendation we looked for the most respected specialists in the
world. We found several and had decided to eliminate all American doctors
but then we discovered that you were traveling in Europe and
England. Although our operation to bring you here was executed somewhat
clumsily, I'm pleased to say that it was successful."

"I would like to start with a brief physical examination, and then review
your records before recommending a treatment. I'm sure I'll need a
medically astute translator for the review, or a doctor who is fluent in
medical terms in English," I said. "I'll also need to know what modern
medical diagnostic equipment is available."

"We'll look for a suitable doctor fluent in English, but I'm not sure we
can get one here quickly," he stated. "In the meantime, I think we should
begin with the examination. I will then give instructions that you are to
be provided with all you need or desire in order to give the best possible
diagnosis and treatment. You will be surprised what can be done when there
is a proper incentive."

He smiled the evil smile that the world knew so well.

I almost spoke but decided to hold my tongue, at least until I had more
time to think. I had brought an excellent translator with me, my wife
Mel. Was the advantage of using her to translate worth them not knowing she
was fluent in their language? I wasn't sure. On one hand she would be an
invaluable assistant, but with them not knowing that she could speak their
language, it could save our lives as they would feel free to speak their
language in our presence. I'd decide later.

"Mr. Bin Laden," I requested, "please disrobe and take a seat on the
examination table."

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