The Rainbow Conspiracy Read online

  Hearing this information was a huge relief for Clive, who had felt quite uncomfortable asking Michael about the more personal details concerning the instructions Dennis had left behind. Clive assured Michael that, if he were in his shoes, he wouldn’t rush into making major decisions about the sale of number 257 for the time being. Michael found his words reassuring, but there were issues that did need addressing and he really had to get down to the business of sorting through all of Dennis’s effects, but he also confessed that he was finding the task somewhat onerous. He insisted that Clive take a memento back to England with him and asked if there was anything in particular that he wanted. Clive thought for a moment, and then answered that he’d like one of the drawings in the front room. Michael responded that he was more than welcome to any of them, but wondered which one in particular, since there were so many to choose from.

  ‘You know, the orange one … the one of Den’s arse.’

  Finally they arrived at the hospital, parked, and once in the waiting room Michael opened up to Clive.

  ‘I feel so fortunate to have landed such an understanding specialist and that is all due to Dr Allen Leavitt. When Dennis became ill, Allen referred him to Dr Norris and now I’m his patient too. I feel lucky to be in such safe hands when there are rumours flying around about how some doctors are withholding treatment from some AIDS patients. I’ve heard even worse tales of hospital staff actually refusing to touch anyone they suspect may have the disease.

  ‘That’s scandalous’, responded Clive. ‘How can they abandon people like that and treat them so unfairly. I wonder whether the Hippocratic Oath that doctors back home had to swear helped avoid such appalling practice in Britain?’

  ‘I’m convinced that the Moral Majority had infiltrated the medical profession; those guys believe that homosexuality is as evil as legalised abortion or socialism. You know Clive, there is a particular religious group that is releasing pamphlets quoting the Old Testament, and the book of Leviticus in particular. Those dangerous religious fanatics believed that sexual relations between males was a sin and that such unlawful sexual practices should be punishable by death. In fact, I’ve even tried to discuss it with Allen Levitt, who I believe I told you is Jewish.’

  ‘Really,’ Clive responded, ‘and what did Allen say?’

  ‘I’m afraid I made him feel most uncomfortable and he confessed to being very conflicted by his faith, which he knew considered homosexuality to be a detestable sin.’

  Michael maintained that it wasn’t just the Orthodox Jewish community who believed that homosexuals were contributing to the deterioration of the moral fibre of the nation: there were many other conservative groups who felt similarly. All in all, these sentiments seemed to fit in with the discussion Clive had had earlier with Steve and gave added credence to any drastic plans that his new friend thought the FBI might be proposing.

  Michael’s specialist was punctual for his appointment, but his patient seemed to be gone for quite some time, and while Clive waited, he started to thumb through a number of leaflets that Michael had given him to read. They were published by the self-help organisation set up to advise gay men on health issues in the Columbus catchment area. However, he found his concentration lacking, and he was far too distracted to sit there reading, being only too aware of the pressure he knew Michael to be under. Clive had come round to thinking that it was high time he got himself checked out too. After all, Michael had told him that AIDS can lie dormant, and Clive was now alarmed by the fact that the last time he met up with Dennis, in Aspen, they’d had unprotected sex.

  Earlier on, when they drove over to the hospital, Michael told Clive that he, and so many of his friends, had altered their lifestyles and revised their attitudes toward casual relationships and sexual activity. They had developed a much more moral sense of responsibility towards protecting their gay brothers and strove to achieve a means of surviving, which was something Dennis had clearly been denied.

  Eventually, Michael emerged and, as he came walking towards Clive, he appeared a little less tense. He apologised for having kept Clive waiting such a long time, but added that he was pleased that he’d been given such a thoroughly good going-over.

  As they drove away from the hospital, Clive skirted the question he really wanted to pose, but eventually brought himself to enquire, ‘By the way, do you have to keep coming back for these tests on a regular basis?’

  ‘God only knows … until they tell me the worst, I suppose. You know, Clive, I am prepared for it. Of course I don’t want to die, but I have had enough time to think what I would feel if the worst should happen and I find out that I’m just one of the many thousands who have contracted this damn thing. I just have to keep telling myself that AIDS is not a punishment: it’s sheer bad luck. And I have to keep damn well reminding myself that I’m dealing with something that’s bigger than me … bigger than all of us. And what’s more, I can tell ya, if I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go with dignity.’ And as he released the handbrake, he added: ‘After all, I’m not ashamed of being gay.’

  He now seemed to be getting angry and so Clive asked him if his doctor had upset him in any way. Michael explained that, on the contrary, it had been one of the lab technicians who had really distressed him when he had deliberately waited for Dr Norris to be out of the room. The guy had intentionally chosen that moment to tell a colleague about a child who had recently died following a blood transfusion that had been traced back to a man who had AIDS. The technician went on to add within earshot: ‘Homosexuals, whether healthy or not, should be segregated and not be allowed to donate blood. They’re a menace to society and should be got rid of!’

  ‘That’s terrible – no wonder you’re so upset. But surely the donor didn’t give his blood knowing it was contaminated?’

  ‘Clive, that’s not the point. I wouldn’t have thought so for one minute. But you see, it has obviously maddened some of the health workers and I dread to think what the parents of the little girl must be going through, let alone all the other children in the school that she attended. It’s just like Dennis warned us: he said there would be a witch-hunt and that we would be treated like scapegoats.’

  ‘Please try not to upset yourself,’ said Clive. ‘That’s precisely the kind of ignorance that sets out to undermine the kindness and understanding we are receiving from so many other people throughout the world. We do have to try to keep calm and hold on to our self-respect.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but it was so frustrating. That guy had the audacity to say that we were unclean and I had to just lie there, with all those needles in me, and take all that shit: I couldn’t even answer back with all those pipes in my mouth. That bastard wouldn’t have dared say such things if Dr Norris had been there in the room at the time. Outsiders we may be but some people are treating us like lepers’

  That last remark silenced Clive as they drove back to Dennis’s house, but clearly Michael now had a lot more to get off his chest and Clive was more than prepared to listen to his friend’s outpourings.

  ‘I made a stand nearly twenty years ago, when I came out at art college, Michael said. ‘I really enjoyed sex. I liked it a lot and had as many men as I could handle long before I met Dennis. Sure, we were a sort of couple, and we loved each other. But, Clive, neither of us was monogamous, nor did we live like some of those terrible suburban married gays you meet. We never deliberately tried to corrupt or split people up: that wasn’t our scene either, and we certainly had no intention of killing people. We just wanted to enjoy the sexual freedom that existed then amongst us gay men, either separately or together.’

  ‘Yes, I remember the first time I met you.’

  ‘You mean when we lured you into a threesome? Well, looking back on it now, I’m not sure I’m too proud about what happened that afternoon.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You and Dennis just wanted us to be one big happy family. And although I was a bit of a prude, I was finally able to indulge in a greater degree of sexual freedom. Tha
nks to Dennis, my Provincetown experience had certainly given me more confidence in the bedroom department, and I know that when I returned to England, I was a very changed man and felt much more relaxed about my sex life. I also now acknowledge that I still had a way to go when I first visited Columbus, which must have been only too apparent on that afternoon. Anyway, that was then; and now we’re in the eighties, we have AIDS to contend with and we are all so much more careful, and we jolly well have to be.’

  ‘Yes, of course we do. But when you have to deal with people like that bigot at the hospital, I lose heart and get so depressed. I feel that the finger of contempt is being pointed at me and it leads me to wonder whether anything is worth fighting for any more. The tip of the iceberg has just smashed through our pleasure cruiser and if that deadly virus doesn’t get us, public hatred will, and social ostracism will banish us from the rest of society with the kind of loathing we haven’t witnessed since the rise of fascism back in the thirties.’

  Clive realised there was no point disagreeing; in fact, he knew there was a great deal of sense in what his friend believed. He was sympathetic to what Michael had been saying about the Jews in Nazi-occupied Europe: the wealth of some and perceived difference in lifestyle had led them to be persecuted in much the same way that gays were being ostracised now. Clive also pointed out that many gay men had also ended up in the concentration camps. However, the Englishman declared that time was a great healer and that even in Europe, the Germans had been forgiven for what had happened in the Second World War and amends had been made.

  When the two got back to the Colony, Clive persuaded Michael he should have a lie-down, take a sedative, and try to relax after the pressure of what had been an exhausting visit to the hospital. As Clive poured himself a scotch and examined the storyboard he had drawn up so far, he began to wonder whether the plan that Jim had uncovered was working sooner and with greater effect than was perhaps ever anticipated. He needed to really get to the bottom of the so-called conspiracy, and knew that he hadn’t heard the full story from Steve, since Mr Leggard had said as much the previous evening. So, with Michael now out like a light, Clive decided to invite Steve round to number 257. Clive was more determined than ever to find out what the senator had discovered in Arizona and why he’d been done away with.

  ‘Steve, you must think I’m a terrible nosy parker, but I do want to learn as much as I can about what Dennis had stumbled upon, and how he had discovered that the FBI – or whoever – were planning the spread of AIDS here in the States. I’m beginning to get my head around some of what you told me when we last met, but I have to admit there are still a few missing pieces to the jigsaw.’

  ‘Clive, I know how much Dennis meant to you, and I’m more than happy to tell you everything he told me. Mmm … this martini is going down real well. Thank you.’

  ‘Michael has been giving me lessons. Oh, and by the way, he was so exhausted after all those tests at the hospital, I made him lie down and rest. Poor Michael said that lying there with all those needles in him made him feel like a pincushion. And talking of which, I hate needles, don’t you?’

  ‘Funny you should say that. I realise I never got around to telling you about what was going on down in Arizona. You see, needles were involved in the laboratory experiments being carried out near Tucson, and Jim’s marine finally shared all this classified information, which he had gathered down south with his senator friend.’

  Steve told Clive that what he was about to reveal some highly confidential and very incriminating material. He explained that when Dennis went into hospital for the final time, he had told him that Jim, in his capacity as senator, had managed to get himself attached to a team of government officials making a rudimentary inspection of an experimental germicide plant not far from Tucson. At this top-security site down in Arizona, The Central Intelligence Agency had developed Operation Mukultra; a programme to research the use of biological and chemical materials and Jim was able to collect just enough information to make him believe that his young marine friend had definitely been on to something.

  Clive admitted that it was all beginning to sound like some sort of B-movie.

  Steve became quite adamant, and insisted that he wouldn’t personally call germ warfare B-movie material, and he also believed that Jim didn’t either. He explained that when Jim finally returned to Washington, he told Dennis that the information he had discovered for himself in Arizona seemed to tally with what his marine buddy, Hank Watson, had confidentially reported to him back in DC. As a result of all these shenanigans, Jim had told Dennis that it was decided that it would be a lot safer for him and his paramour not to see each other any more. As a result of this, Hank decided to go on compassionate leave and got himself stationed out in Kentucky so that he could be closer to his mother, who was conveniently ailing at the time. The more Jim uncovered, the more he became aware of the seriousness of what the FBI were up to and, once his friend had left Washington, he began to feel extremely isolated and vulnerable.

  Then, about two months later, Jim was informed that Hank had been killed in a car crash. On the face of it, it seemed like an ordinary accident which could have happened to anybody, but Jim was not convinced and believed that too many question marks still remained unanswered.

  ‘So they got rid of Jim’s marine too.’

  ‘It would appear so. Then shortly afterwards – and this is where maybe it does begin to sound like a bit of a mystery thriller – Jim told Dennis that he had started to receive a series of threatening and anonymous telephone calls in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Jesus, you’re joking!’ Steve’s last remarks helped explain why Dennis had been so troubled in Aspen and why he had invited Clive out there.

  ‘It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, I suppose,’ Steve continued, ‘and it certainly scared the shit out of Jim. He just panicked, and once in possession of all that information, he didn’t know what the fuck to do with it. There was no one in Washington he trusted and he felt he couldn’t go to the police, let alone the press. He certainly didn’t want to endanger the safety of his wife and kids back in Illinois, but he was desperate to talk to someone.’

  ‘So he got in touch with Dennis again.’

  ‘And that’s why, when they met up in Colorado, Den thought he was behaving like someone on the run, and in a way, I suppose he was, and I certainly know that Jim’s visit to Arizona had alarmed him enormously. Jim told Dennis that he was anxious about the phone calls he was getting, and after his marine’s demise, he was terrified by the death threats he himself was now receiving. So Jim finally decided to step down as senator and go into hiding, and who could blame him?’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me in the least. And I suppose that’s why, when Dennis walked into the Men’s Center that day, it’s little wonder you found him in such a terrible state: he must have been terribly concerned about what might happen to Jim.’

  ‘Absolutely spot on. I can tell you, I was convinced that Den had been drinking or something. I thought I was listening to the ravings of someone who was high as a kite. Then, when he came back to see me the following morning, I changed my mind. He had calmed down a good deal and sounded plausible and was highly articulate. As our trust grew, he told me all that he knew and I began to believe in the plot as well. Then,’ Steve uttered in very hushed tones, ‘in January 1980, something very untoward happened, which convinced me utterly that his were not the ravings of an hysterical queen. Den and I were really shocked to read in a national newspaper that shortly after Christmas, Jim had been found dead on the ski slopes in Aspen, Colorado.

  It dawned on Clive that Jim’s death must have occurred the year after he and Dennis had met up there. ‘Den must have been devastated.’

  ‘And terrified also. He didn’t believe for one moment that it had been an accident, and so he began to fear for his own life. After all, Senator Jim had told Dennis everything he had found out about in Colorado, thereby incriminating Den too.’ />
  ‘Now you’re not going to tell me the FBI tried to bump Dennis off too?’

  ‘Unfortunately, something much more deadly got hold of our Den. But the supreme irony was that the last person alive – apart from me, that is – who knew everything that Jim had found out about goes and gets AIDS himself. You see, just before Den went into hospital for the last time, he told me that Jim had found out that the germicide plant in Tucson had been carrying out experiments and had reproduced a swine virus that could attack the helper cells in the bloodstream and that, if administered, could in time reduce their number radically. In short, those damn scientists had succeeded in manufacturing a virus that could eventually cause AIDS.’

  Now the missing pieces of the jigsaw suddenly dropped into place for Clive. The novel viral agent that Jim and his marine had found out about was in all probability the cause of this outbreak of what the doctors now referred to as Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. Although Clive realised that Dennis’s death was one of some 6,000 cases openly reported in the USA, he couldn’t help but think that his demise was all too convenient for the FBI. However, he decided to curb such thoughts and steer their conversation away from Dennis for the time being.

  ‘How long did you say it took the virus to take effect?’

  ‘I didn’t say, Clive, but I think it can lie inactive in the system for some time before any symptoms appear. And that was an important factor. Those guys experimenting in Tucson were able to isolate a virus which they would then introduce into a highly promiscuous group and, moreover, it could lie dormant and eventually spread undetected.’

  ‘I suppose the sixties and seventies offered them a golden opportunity.’

  ‘Yes, I would agree with you. But in our defence, I would also say that our promiscuity was a reaction to all the repression following the war years.’