Date: Sun, 16 Nov 2008 16:58:55 -0500
From: chris james <drmeta4@gmail.com>
Subject: On the Wire, Chapter 1

Dear Reader: this story is considered adult fiction, persons under the age
of 18 are not encouraged to read this material.

	Years ago I began writing stories without a lot of sex, if any at
all. This story contains little sexual activity but the entire story is
about sex. Some of you may shy away from the subject matter but I felt
compelled to write about it.

	I am not a great genius on the Internet, to me it's a wonderful
tool. This is a story about those who use that tool for bad purposes. No
character was terribly hurt in the writing of this story, the hurt is past.
Now we will see what the future can bring...as always, your comments
welcome.

Chris James
drmeta4@gmail.com


        Little birdie on the wire, just too tired to fly much higher?
        Are you hungry, are you weak, can you move your little beak?
        Sing a song before you go, away down south before the snow.
        Fly now on your feathered wing, return again when comes the spring.

        - Anonymous

			     On the Wire (M/B)

Prologue

	A slender young boy stood at the entrance to the terminal beneath
the American Airlines sign. His eyes scanned the crowd of morning commuters
rushing past, ignoring him, most too busy to bother. The boy had been told
just to wait and a man wearing a red hat would approach him. Vague
instructions, but it was enough to keep him rooted to the spot.

	Streaks of black and blue coloring ran through his otherwise long
blonde hair which hung down on either side of his face. The dye was already
fading, but the shaggy cut covered his ears and fairly well hid his face.

	He wore a pair of tight low cut jeans, a dangling chain belt down
one thigh and a rainbow colored T-shirt finished off the look. The boy was
hot looking, he was emo, and anyone who saw the bracelets would probably
know he was gay. The fact that he did nothing to disguise his look made a
statement...he felt free.

	His flight had arrived only a few minutes ago and he was worried
about missing his connection with the red hat. He looked up at the clock on
the wall behind the baggage check-in counter. Nine forty-five. It was ok,
he wasn't late.

	It had happened just as Kevin had said; no one was looking for
him. It was going to be a clean break from his parents. Not that they
cared, he felt they would probably be glad to be rid of him.

	His uncle had been the first one to call him a faggot, and his
older brother had taken up the challenge, occasionally beating him while
saying it. He hid the bruises at school, no sense starting a riot there;
the other students didn't like him anyway.

	He was an outcast and had been since fifth grade. Even back then he
had known he would run away if given the chance. And Kevin had provided him
with the opportunity. He could laugh now, he was free. Where was that red
hat?

	Oh he'd been in chat rooms online since he was eleven. Looking for
friends, seeking advice wherever he could find it. Being the gay kid was
tough, even online. One site after another took him in and then rejected
him when he got explicit. Nothing great about logging in only to find an
account closed notice. Bastards all of them.

	He had picked up the scent of something new last year when a chat
room friend had mentioned this new site called Golden Hand. The webmaster
named Handiboi had chatted with him personally. He guessed the guy to be
about twenty-something from the way he talked.

	So it came as a shock when he found out that Handiboi, his real
name Kevin, was actually seventeen, just a year older than himself. It was
so cool to know that someone was finally paying attention to him after all
this time.

	Kevin had asked some pretty personal information at first, sexual
stuff, embarrassing things. Had he ever....did he do it every day....what
did he fantasize about...how did he know he was gay? He was determined to
stay; he needed the friendship....so he told the truth about everything.

	In return Kevin gave him a nickname, he was to be called BL69 in
all future chats. He wondered about the name but embraced it as his own.



	K: you know what the BL means don't ya?

	BL69: Nope

	K: lol...you mentioned wanting to try some oral/anal...that turned
me on so F'ing much i thought BL69 would be kool...butt licker, get it?

	BL69: OMG, lol...i just wanted you to know what i always wanted to
try. i'm not a virgin, but i never did that ya know...

	K: aww sweet...ya got some experience then?

	BL69: yeah...a little bit, mostly oral...i never did IT...ya know?

	K: think you could handle that?

	BL69: dunno...pretty scary if you ask me lmao...

	K: nope, that's why you got me...

	BL69: i love you ....you know that don't you?

	K: aww thanx...you and i...we are all about love sweetie :)

	And as they chatted over many weeks and months, Kevin and the other
friends who crowded around him in support felt more like his family than
the real thing. He sent a photo of himself and Kevin seemed to purr with
happiness.

	K: gosh...you're so beautiful

	BL69: hmm i don't think so...i'm ugly

	K: damn boy, you are soooo cute...hot even

	BL69: you really think so?

	K: if you were here i would show you how much i mean that

	BL69: kk...wish it could happen

	Kevin asked and guided, suggested and proposed until finally BL69
said he wanted out of his world, he would do anything to escape. And it was
Kevin who had explained how it could be done.

	K: so you ready to get out of that hell hole?

	BL69: you mean it? OMG i would do anything...

	K: kk...what if i asked you to have sex with me...or someone else?

	BL69: umm...with you no question...but who else?

	K: friends...cause we need the money, nothing is free

	BL69: uh...i never thought about it b4...is that what i would have
to do?

	K: sometimes...i know some nice loving guys, it's really ok sweetie

	BL69: you know these guys that wanna...have sex with me?

	K: yes...it wouldn't be like you had to do it all the time...and we
do get paid. buys the groceries and pays the rent ya know.

	BL69: uh...LOL...freedom does have a price i suppose...if you say i
gotta that's ok.

	K: it won't be difficult, you'll see.

	BL69: ok...yeah...i want out real bad

	K: kewl...i can make it happen

	BL69: how?...i mean...why are you doing this? you don't have to...

	K: i know...i want to meet you

	BL69: really????

	K: yes...i think i'm in love

	Kevin told him what to pack, for it was still a bit cold up north,
and told him what to leave behind. One suitcase was all he was allowed, the
rest would be provided. His life was about to begin anew with Kevin by his
side.

	And with that decision, young Austin Frederick Morgan disappeared
from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. In this he was not alone...Kevin was a very
busy boy. He lived on the internet and finding boys like this wasn't hard,
they seemed to make themselves known in hundreds of chat rooms across the
land.

	But Austin was special; Kevin had felt that from the moment they
made contact. Of the dozens and dozens of disaffected boys he chatted up
every night, this one had touched something deep inside...

 					* * *


Author's Note: Have I confused you already? A few internet chat terms for
clarification, most of you won't need to read this:

OMG = Oh My God LOL = laugh out loud lmao = laugh my ass off kk =
substitutes for ok, easier to type :) = smiley face Caps are rarely used in
chats, all else is phonetic, figure it out...kk?

Use of the word 'emo' here is to define a look, not the music generally
associated with the term. Emo is a fad amongst gay youth, an androgynous
image of the times.





Chapter One

	Alan Malloy pulled up the case file on his computer and typed up
his final report of the morning. He should have been pissed at the amount
of time he'd wasted on this one, but then cops did more standing around
than in any other profession. Too much like a garbage man, he thought,
always at the scene only to clean up the mess.

	That's why Alan had helped put together the fledgling internet
crimes squad; they were proactive in their approach to enforcing the
law. But it wasn't just the law that motivated these guys in the office
around him, it was the stink they could smell emanating from the internet
these days.

	Culling the chat rooms for contacts had become an immediate
nightmare; the world was just too big. But for Alan and the other three
guys of the squad there was enough local business to keep them on their
toes.

	Case in point, what would motivate a seemingly normal fourteen year
old boy to have an explicit sexual conversation on the internet with a
total stranger? Did he feel the anonymity; the thrill of sexuality in a
remote conversation that would protect him from danger? Blew that when he
met someone and trusted them, end of game...this time a dead kid.

	Alan knew the source of a kid's moment of stupidity, frustration
pure and simple. Of course the perps knew about that too. After a while the
words just didn't score a hit in the pleasure centers of the mind, there
was no personal contact.

	But many of those 'kids' he chatted with were the very perps Alan
was after, the predators who reveled in this new means of snagging a
victim. The internet was global and technology made it easy for someone
with an above average mentality and a devious mindset.

	Ok, he had to admit that he ran across some genuinely caring people
out there who just wanted to help these lonely kids. But those folks didn't
pose as teenagers. Maybe the world was producing a bunch of social worker
wannabes, and it made him wonder just who was lonelier.

	By now they had computer models established, programs that analyzed
speech patterns while looking for inconsistencies. Did the contact use the
same words, slang, or abbreviations? Over and over again the programs
compared the contact's patterns with others and identified the
similarities....they had a list of suspected perps.

	Faking a way into the teenage world was hard work, for perp and cop
alike. The lexicon of slang terms these kids used seemed to evolve
overnight and Alan had to know them all or get stamped a faker. Then the
word would spread, access would be blocked and an investigation stymied.

	He had dozens of accounts, twice as many names to throw around and
the use of a sterile credit card. He belonged to a growing number of law
enforcement officers that channeled, shared information about suspects, but
they were still behind...and the body count was growing.

	Back when he was a beat cop right out of the police academy, Alan
had seen first hand how people could be so cruel to one another. Three
years of domestic violence disputes, shootings and robberies on the street
had scared him. He couldn't take it any more.

	But he had invested in the job; he couldn't run away so he went
back to school at night. It wasn't the lure of a bigger degree that
motivated him; it was the trash he'd seen and some things that still
haunted him from his own past.

	That first year as a rookie cop in the 9th District he was
partnered with a twelve year veteran. Gregory Malakas...married to Betty,
father of Steven and Sally, an adorable family. But Greg was tired of being
a cop by then and it colored his reactions to situations they
encountered. Alan still blamed himself and his inexperience for not seeing
what was right before his eyes.

	It had all gone wrong in a minute. The call they responded to was
another domestic dispute, only this time there was a gun involved. There
had been three shots fired inside the apartment before they even reached
the door and Alan immediately called for backup.

	They could hear a woman's hysterical screams from behind the door
as they approached the second floor hallway. Greg drew his weapon and
motioned for Alan to stay back. He remembered the screams and another shot
was fired before Greg said, "We're goin in there."

	Alan knew the rules, wait for backup...and then it was too
late. Greg kicked the flimsy door of the apartment and the frame shattered,
tearing the door right off the hinges. Greg led the way, weapon up and
ready. They burst through the doorway and split left and right. Alan's half
of the room was empty, trash strewn about, broken furniture scattered
against the walls.

	The perp was in the other quadrant and he fired first, clipping
Greg in the neck. Alan swung at the sound and pulled off two rounds, both
of them dead center on the perp's chest. The man went down, losing his
weapon in the process. The whole time a woman huddled in the corner kept up
this incessant screaming.

	Alan went for the perp's gun and retrieved it before turning to aid
his partner. Greg was covered in his own blood, the artery in his neck
pumping the life out of him with every heartbeat. Alan covered the gaping
wound with one hand as the other reached for his radio.

	"Thirty-two baker, officer down....we need an ambulance at four
eight five Tildon," He recalled saying calmly, but the dispatcher's
recording told a different story.

	"Thirty-two baker...shut up bitch...officer down. Oh God, we need
an ambulance....shut the fuck up bitch....four eight five Tildon...."

	They played it at the inquiry two weeks later. Alan's hysteria and
eventual sobbing had all been recorded as he held the transmit button down
in his panic. Somber faces on that panel, heads slowly nodding.

	"Don't die Greg....Oh God....please don't die," were the last words
accompanied by the wail of sirens in the background.

	Alan had broken down at the funeral. The sight of Greg's young son
trying to be brave was too much to endure. The department gave him a
month's leave and counseling. Greg's family got a check from the
policeman's benevolent association and an insurance payment.

	They took Alan off the street for a while. Not for disciplinary
reasons, but to check him out....standard procedure they explained. No one
felt sorry for him, cops who screwed up died on the job and Greg had paid
the price.

	Chicago was a large city and the police force was like any other
major organization, there were good and bad elements. From Alan's
perspective he knew he was just a small fish in the sea of faces that came
and went about their duties. But he'd heard all the stories by the time
he'd been put back on the street.

	So and so took bribes, this one stole from the drug dealers, that
one had his hand in the protection racket. Dirty cops, dirty politicians,
dirty town, but he managed to steer clear of the debacle most of the time.

	He had told the counselor that he'd become a cop to help people
live a normal and prosperous life. Protecting and defending the honest
citizens of the community in which he worked. It all sounded like
propaganda to his ears but he knew there was some truth in all that. He saw
the people in his district as an extended family....something Alan knew he
would never have.

	His parents had raised him to be responsible and forthright, at
least from their middle class perspective. He knew they had hoped for him
to become a banker, a doctor, a lawyer...anything besides a cop. His father
had carried a detective's shield for twenty-eight years and felt the guilt
of any father whose son followed in those same shoes.

	But they were off in a Winnebago now, traveling the country with a
group of retired ex-cops; Alan was alone for the time being. His older
brother married, and his sister as well, both as far away from this city as
their desires took them. The successes of these family members gave him
peace of mind...at least until he looked in the mirror every morning.

	Irish to the bone, his mother used to say of his rugged good
looks. He looked like a cop, acted like a cop, but inside there was a
different person...a person he suddenly didn't know all that well. Life was
a struggle to balance what he knew of himself.

	Alan hadn't fully understood those feelings until he was
sixteen. He dated because his friends did but he lied about the results. He
shared his money with that same bunch of friends when they needed to buy
condoms for their conquests, but he never had any use for them himself.

	Alan began to work out at the local gym because he thought it would
take his mind off the feelings he was beginning to have. But then the gym
was full of the temptations he so feared, and eventually he gave into them
when the right guy came along.

	At first he felt scared by the eyes that checked him out in the
locker room, and there were several pairs he noticed turning his way. He
couldn't be sure if that handsome thirty-something guy was just being
friendly or if there was a subtle undercurrent of sensuality in the man's
quiet smile. But he had the answer when the man began to touch him in the
gasping heat of the steam room.

	Brian Daniels was his first, their friendship giving Alan a glimpse
of incredible sexual pleasure and what he thought could be love. He'd never
thought he could fall for an older man but he did very quickly. In those
dark early-evening hours at Brian's apartment, Alan learned what a man
could do for him and he marveled at the feelings.

	But Brian only showed him what was possible between them and never
spoke of love in return. In all his youthful foolishness, Alan posed naked
for the man's camera, allowing his body to be used in hopes it would bring
them closer. And then the scenario changed.

	Brian it seemed had friends who enjoyed the photos...and other boys
that were willing to participate. Before he knew it Alan found himself in
bed with younger boys, willing boys who seemed to enjoy his attentions. Of
course Brian was there, camera in hand, and sometimes there were other men
as well.

	Three months after it started the whole picture shattered. Alan was
almost in the middle when the police broke down Brian's door for the
bust. But as luck had it he was in the bathroom getting dressed when the
door collapsed to the battering ram and the vice squad entered the
apartment.

	Alan climbed out the window and worked his way down the fire escape
before the cops could get the bathroom door open. He stood in the dark
alley across the street and watched as the police pulled Brian and the
other two boys out of the building and into the waiting squad cars. He
almost didn't go home that night, fearful that they would know him and come
looking.

	Although they had the photos, the police somehow didn't discover
Alan's name. He laid low for several months after that, following the story
in the news as first Brian and then several other men were arrested, tried
and convicted of child pornography. From what he understood at the time,
the men wouldn't get out of prison for twenty years if they were lucky
enough to survive the experience.

	Sixteen, almost seventeen, and Alan was scared out of his mind that
those photos would surface somewhere and he would be discovered. He cut off
all his hair, affecting a military look that seemed to change his facial
characteristics as well.

	Alan avoided the gym and most public places for a while, but a
change of lifestyle didn't stop the feelings. His needs eventually led him
to visit an arcade one Saturday afternoon. And there on the video machine
against the back wall was his answer.

	Matty Green was one of Brian's little friends, and fortunately not
present when the bust went down. He was young, probably the youngest in
Brian's stable of boys. But at fourteen, Matty had the experience and the
looks Alan desired. And when approached the boy looked him over and smiled
in recognition.

	"Hey Alan...where you been hiding?"

	"Exactly that...I was there you know," Alan replied.

	Matty looked amazed. "Oh my God, did you get caught?"

	"Nope, I flew out the bathroom window like a bird....they have our
pictures you know."

	"Ya...no one has said anything to me though....you?"

	"Naw, I guess they caught the big fish they wanted, but they got
Stevie and Joe...haven't seen them around have you?" Alan asked.

	"Nope, they went to my school too. I hear they're up at Carter
Detention," Matty said.

	Better them than me," Alan laughed. "What you been up to?"

	"Nothin much...you still in the game?" Matty asked.

	Alan grinned. "Not until I saw you."

	And the game took on a whole new meaning after that. Matty was his
boyfriend throughout high school and they fell in love, true love for the
very first time in their lives. The boy was a wonder, in bed and out, and
smart enough to understand that the feelings they shared had to be kept a
secret.

	To the world they were like brothers and Alan's parents accepted
the friendship without question. Matty lived alone with his mother and she
was happy her son had an older boy around to mind him when she worked all
those late hours.

	And in the modest apartment building where Matty lived they
discovered love. Alan still recalled those quiet evenings and endless
weekends where they lay in Matty's bed professing those deep feelings to
one another. It still seemed like a dream come true now....almost fourteen
years later.

	Matty was a bright kid and he had a computer with access to the
fledgling internet. The whole world seemed to be at his fingertips and yet
Alan was told this was just the beginning. It was at the hands of this
young master that Alan learned the basics and they surfed the net together.

	And as luck would have it they got an answer to a very serious
issue, Matty discovered a photo on a European web site.

	"Oh shit, Alan...look at this," Matty yelled one evening.

	They had been doing homework together, Alan into his math book and
Matty finishing up his history only moments before. Alan dropped his pencil
and stood up to look over the boy's shoulder.

	The photo was of Stevie, one of the boys caught up in the bust. He
was flat on his belly and taking a large stiff one up the backside. Alan
knew that stiff cock very well, it was still dangling between his legs.

	"It's you, isn't it...?" Matty asked.

	"Yes....that was the first time I met Stevie....are there more?"
Alan asked.

	Matty scrolled down the page, so many boys to look at, and then a
window popped open on the screen.

	"Aw, it's a pay site....this is just a teaser. Shit. We can't get
into it like this....uh wait one sec...." Matty mumbled.

	He reached into his desk and thumbed through a notebook. Page after
page of web addresses, names, and numbers...Matty scanned them all looking
for something.

	"Bingo...here's one," he said.

	He entered a name in the members sign in box and carefully entered
a password. The screen flashed dark and then lit up with a 'Welcome'
button, that's all.

	"We're in," Matty said.

	"How the hell did you do that?" Alan asked.

	"Hmm trade secret...but not from you. I belong to a little club
that trades things like passwords and codes. These are real computer fans
all over the world I met online, you know, the news is starting to call us
hackers."

	"My sweet little hacker," Alan laughed and kissed the top of
Matty's head.

	"You go starting that and we won't get to see anything," Matty
giggled. He clicked on the Welcome button and the screen changed.

	"Oh shit, it's a Russian site...they have our photos now," Matty
yelped.

	And it took them only moments to find their faces in the crowd of
naked, sexually compromised boys. It was as if he were glimpsing the recent
past but Alan shuddered as he saw his face, his penis and the things that
he had done at Brian's insistence. Matty felt pretty much the same when he
saw himself.

	There had been only one session with Matty in Brian's apartment,
but here they were together on display in vibrant color. The kissing, the
foreplay, the penetration...all of it was out there on the internet for
anyone to see. There was no escaping the feeling, they had been used...and
so had many, many others.

	It took them over an hour to view all the photos, hundreds of
pictures at least and many of them boys they knew from Brian's
apartment. It puzzled Alan that several of the boys had never been to
Brian's but he knew them from school or Matty did. They had to be the
victims of some of those other men Brian had over, the ones who liked to
watch.

	"They made a lot of money with this," Alan said. "You ever get more
than a dime?"

	"Nope. Just a hundred bucks and the occasional beer...I didn't
smoke the weed either."

	"Fuck, what can we do about it?"

	"Nothing," Matty said. And then those prophetic words, "We're gonna
be out there forever."

	And so it was, Alan knew. Long after Matty had graduated high
school, and gone off to college in California on a scholarship, they had
corresponded with email and then moved onto instant messaging. It was by
this medium of communication that Alan first learned of Matty's biggest
problem.

	That final year in college, when success was bringing Alan so much
joy, he received the bad news. The boy, for even at nineteen that was what
Matty would always be in his mind, had contracted AIDS.

	Alone in the darkness of his room Alan wept, for his fears and for
the helplessness he felt these many miles away. The internet had kept them
together over the years and yet now it seemed Matty was an insurmountable
distance away.

	Alan blew his savings on a plane ticket to Los Angeles, ditching
school to be with the one person in life that kept him whole. The cab from
the airport took him up the highway, past signs pointing the way to those
famous places he had only read about...Hollywood, Culver City and Burbank,
yet Alan felt nothing. This place was alien, this place had made Matty
sick, and a sense of dread crept into his mind.

	The address in Venice Beach seemed nice enough and Alan paid off
the cab driver. The man who opened the door gave Alan one look and then
embraced him with genuine affection.

	"Matty...Matty...he's here," the man called, looking towards the
living room of the house. And from within this apparition came shuffling
towards the hallway to greet him. The man standing beside him must have
felt Alan's shock.

	"The drugs are finally working...he'll get better."

	And it was Matty, so thin, so fragile, but with that same twinkle
in his eyes Alan had always remembered. The man at the door was introduced
as Stan, and the love in his glance said the rest.

	Alan stayed for a week...and then two, renewing the relationship
with Matty, catching up on old times. Stan was a famous artist and a
professor, but to Matty he was simply "my angel." It gave Alan such comfort
to know that someone else cared, someone who could keep Matty from harm.

	The gay community here had been ravaged by the disease and that
only seemed to pull them together in solidarity. They threw a party the
last night of his stay and Alan met so many men he couldn't begin to
remember their names.

	But Alan saw that each of these men cherished the young man who had
been his first love. Matty would always be a special part of his life and
Alan knew in his heart that he would always think of Matty as a boy.

	It was unsettling to feel that he could only find love with someone
younger, but there it was. Matty had chosen a man twice his age and seemed
quite content. Alan had become something that he had first seen only in
Brian, a lover of young men and boys.

	The next few months were swallowed up in graduating from
college. But with that diploma in hand Alan went and applied for the police
academy. With his family name he was immediately accepted.

	The haunting memory of those internet pictures, and then the ones
he now saw from the morgue drove him onwards...Alan had a plan. He served
his rookie years, carefully following the rules after the incident with
Greg, and began to lobby the department to establish a computer crimes
department.
	"We're gonna be out there forever," Matty had said, and how true
that was. Time and again Alan encountered those same photos on various
websites. He managed to get the Chief to assign him part time in
investigating these sites. All it would take was one case, one solved
crime, and Alan would begin to have what he wanted most...revenge.

	Deep in his mind Alan knew he had an affinity for these boys and
yet he didn't act upon that feeling. The opportunity presented itself on
several occasions, a place or time where a boy could have been his for the
asking. Situations did arouse him but he shied away, knowing that there was
an even greater goal down the road ahead.

	He finally received his gold shield and as a full fledged detective
he assumed the power to run a four man department. They set up shop in a
small three story building behind Central District headquarters. Nothing
glamorous, it couldn't be like that because they were the new guys. But it
was everything he had wanted...and at the same time feared.

	The city was faced with a growing number of internet crimes and
Alan knew they had better get a handle on it and soon. Too many people
didn't understand what they did, and that meant pressure to perform. And
then they caught a break.

	He remembered the day exactly, Friday, April fourth....the day
Austin was lead into his office. The uniform pushed the kid down into the
interview chair and snapped the cuffs to the arm. Alan looked up and raised
his eyebrows as if to say, "Is this necessary?"

	"Solicitation and now assaulting me out there in the
hallway....little punk," the officer said. "He had this in his pocket."

	The shiny plastic disk was handed over; the case cracked as if
someone had tried to destroy it. The cop handed Alan a thin file folder
which meant the boy probably had no previous record.

	"Thanks," Alan said. "I'll take him downstairs myself after we're
done."

	The cop looked relieved, now he didn't have to wait around. The
uniform left and Alan looked at the boy. Fifteen...sixteen maybe...sweet
face, beautiful hair, tight clothes...he even looked the part of a hustler.

	He got up and closed the door. "So...Austin is it?" Alan said,
reading the name off the folder.

	Austin Bates, DOB: March 18, 1992, no previous record, no
incarcerations. Yup, the kid was sixteen and was already facing time in
juvenile lockup....well maybe. The boy wouldn't look at him so Alan smiled
in a show of patience.

	"You thirsty...bet it was a long ride down here and that booking
process they put you through can take forever....want a coke?"

	"Fuck you," Austin said.

	"I though you were out there hoping to get fucked yourself, or was
the officer wrong? How much do you charge?" Alan asked.

	"Fuck off," the boy said.

	"Coke or no coke?"

	"Give me the fucking soda, but I ain't talking to you...I want a
lawyer."

	"And you may have that lawyer right after they take you
downstairs. This is just an informal chat, strictly off the record, ok? I'm
not with the vice squad, the only reason you're here is that disk."

	"Sure....everything you cops say is a lie," Austin threw back.

	Alan pulled a soda from his cooler and opened the tab. Setting the
can within easy reach of the boy he leaned back in his chair. Austin
snagged the can with his free hand and downed the contents in fifteen
seconds, followed by a huge belch and a smile.

	"I see someone taught you good manners," Alan laughed. "I bet a
hundred bucks would probably get me one hell of a good time with a boy like
you."

	Austin's eyes opened wide and he stared across the desk. "You'd pay
that much?"

	"Aw come on, don't tell me you've been selling yourself short all
this time? Handsome boylike you...a hundred is the going rate I hear."

	"Shit," Austin said. And then he mumbled something under his
breath.

	"Someone been pimping you low out there, holding back cash on you
perhaps?" Alan asked.

	"Fuckers," was Austin's only response.

	"Does your mother know what you've been doing lately?" Alan asked.

	"The whore doesn't care unless her crack dealer don't come
through."

	Ahh, Alan thought, the picture gets clearer. He picked up the disk
off his desk and held it up. "Wonder what this is all about?"

	"Nothin but music," Austin said, but his eyes looked scared.

	Alan reached over to his computer and slapped the disk in the
tray. He glanced over at the boy as the unit spun the disk up to speed,
yeah the boy was frightened. And when the window opened Alan knew why.

	"Hmmm, got yourself a little business goin I see. You sell this
stuff?"

	"No, I found it," Austin lied.

	Alan laughed and scrolled thru the icons. It was almost pathetic;
there were half a dozen files with Austin's name on them. He clicked on the
first icon and the boy's naked body appeared. And a fine body it was too in
Alan's opinion. Unfortunately there was no sign of the cameraman or his
confederates. But there sure was a lot of Austin showing up, the boy had
talent.

	"Amazing how your photos just managed to get on this disk, lucky
you just found it. Wouldn't be right if anyone saw these things.....wow,
can you really do that?"

	Alan turned the monitor screen so that Austin could see the image
clearer. The boy was bent over and several inches of his own cock was
stuffed in his mouth. Amazing, Alan had seen stuff like this before but
never met the star of the action.

	"It isn't me, just looks like me," Austin said.

	"Maybe I should call in our medical examiner to check you out. Not
a pleasant experience I must tell you, all that probing and stretching."

	"OK...fuck...what do you want from me?"

	"The truth...who the hell took these pictures?" Alan asked.

	"I don't know," Austin said.

	"Aw come on, a name at least," Alan said. "Right now your
cooperation means a whole lot, you haven't been charged yet and that
assault business out in the hall is gonna get you some time if it sticks."

	"I don't know his name, not his real one anyways. Bucky...something
was all I ever heard. Online he calls himself Bratfucker....no lie."

	"Bratfucker...really? Bratfucker? And yet you hang around this
guy...are you crazy?"

	Austin just glared across the desk but the look wasn't menacing, in
fact it made him look cute. And that was something that had been in Alan's
head since the boy was brought in....something familiar that was just now
becoming clear. The boy was just like he was at that age, and obviously
into the same things...like a fool.

	OK, Alan had never sold himself, but then he'd always had money in
his pocket, what did Austin have? Nothing at home it seems....so did he
take up with the first guy he found on the internet that would pay
attention to him? That was the next question...who was this Bratfucker and
why was he so blatant about it?

	Alan opened his top drawer and took out his case book. Everything
was supposed to be in the records department down the hall but all
detectives kept a book like this close at hand. It was a tickler file, a
list and more of everything important they had worked on, especially if the
crime went unsolved. And Lord knows he wasn't supposed to show any of this
to a civilian.

	He opened the cover and looked at the statistics he kept right
there on that first page. It still shocked him, and he hoped Austin would
get the point.

	"In the past three years, there have been eight young boys gone
missing in the Greater Chicago area. They were finally found...assaulted
and killed by guys like your Bratfucker....eight. And each of them seems to
have met the killer online in a chat room....thought he was OK and agreed
to meet.

	"That's eight boys who never came back from that meeting...eight
that we know of. We've only found that many bodies. Who knows what the real
number is? This isn't a game Austin....there are some serious hurtful
people out there."

	"I know that...I'm careful..." Austin began and then thought better
of it.

	"Let me tell you what I see sitting in that chair," Alan said. "I
see a kid who grew up fast, didn't have any of what you might call normal
privileges in life, and so he set out to make his own way. His mother
doesn't care if he comes home late or comes home at all. This boy has
latched onto something now and he doesn't know how to get out of it,
probably because they know how to find him, manipulate him as they see
fit. How am I doin so far?"

	"It's your fairy tale, you tell it," Austin said.

	"Ok, chapter two. This boy may or may not be gay, doesn't matter to
him what I think either, he'll say he's in it for the money, for
survival. So he sells himself cheap, probably because he likes sex with men
and the attention that brings him."

	"I am not a fag," Austin blurted out.

	"But gay sex works for you, doesn't it?"

	"It's just sex man, what's the big deal?"

	Alan turned the page in his case book and the photos began. He
pulled the first one out of the book and laid it on the desk for Austin to
see.

	"This boy was raped, beaten and then strangled...he was fourteen
years old." He took out a second photo. "This one was sodomized, then raped
before the killer cut his little penis off and shoved it up the kid's
ass....he was only twelve. Should I go on?"

	Austin's face was turning pale and he looked like he was going to
vomit. The photos were graphic and painful to look at, but the bodies
clearly showed the devastation the killer had wanted to leave behind. Alan
swiped them off the desk and put them back in the book.

	"I don't want to see you end up like these boys....I mean that,"
Alan said.

	Austin cleared his throat, some color returning to his face, but
his eyes were moist, tears glistening in the corners.

	"Why..." He croaked, and cleared his throat again. "Why would
anyone do that?"

	"I don't have the answers, Austin. I suppose they were abused as
children, well some of them, it made them sick....they don't think right in
their heads. But if they kill then they need to be taken off the streets
and put away forever....that's my job."

	"Well your job sucks, man."

	"Yeah...tell me about it," Alan replied. "Look, you can help me and
help yourself at the same time. Who took the photos?"

	"I'm serious, I just know him as Bucky. We got together at the
arcade on Jackson...I think he hangs there," Austin said.

	"If I brought in an artist do you think you could describe
him...let her make a sketch of what he looks like?"

	"I suppose...you gonna put in a word for me with the judge?" Austin
asked.

	"I'll do more than that....and I"ll buy you lunch," Alan
said. "Does your mom know you're down here?"

	"Nope."

	" We'll have to call her. Do you want to cooperate with my
investigation?"

	"Nope...but I will."

	"Good man, smart move. You sit there for a minute..." then Alan
laughed, "Um, suppose you have to, I don't have a handcuff key on me. I'll
go get that officer to unhook you and then we'll go see what the artist's
schedule is like. If she's busy we'll go do lunch first."

	Alan got up and started for the door. The question when it came was
quiet, as if Austin was afraid to even ask.

	"Why are you being so nice to me?"

	Alan stopped and squatted down beside the boy, looking up into
those pale blue eyes. "Because you need someone to care about you, it's all
you've ever needed."

	The boy's eyes watered...his feelings close to the edge of tears,
this all had to be pretty stressful. Alan gazed at this face and the beauty
of what he saw astounded him. He could not allow himself to become
involved...no, not yet...but maybe there would be a time for that. Austin
would need guidance and support...he'd already had entirely too much sex.

	The kid didn't know it but he was about to enter the system and
without an advocate he would feel lost. Alan knew he was sexually attracted
to the boy, but that wasn't what Austin needed, he needed a strong hand of
support. It was the least he could do if the boy helped bring some
resolution to any of these killings.

	Austin gave a little smirk. "You like me don't you...I didn't know
cops were into that kind of thing."

	It was a simple observation based upon the boy's experience with
men. Alan wondered how long the boy had been a prostitute...probably much
too long if he was able to see something in a man's eyes. But the kid
deserved some kind of truth if they were going to continue this
relationship.

	"I like kids," Alan said, "I don't want to see them get
hurt. You're very close to the edge, my friend; I don't want you to take a
fall. When this all goes down I will make sure you are safe, I can do
that. I just want you to know it's not going to be easy, for either of
us...ok?"

	Austin smiled...a genuine emotion this time. "Nothing good comes
easy, it always has a price."

	Alan shook his head. "You're mighty young to be so cynical...but I
understand."

	He patted the boy's arm and rose. "I'll be right back....don't go
anywhere."

	"Naw, I'll be chillin' right here when you get back," Austin
replied, rattling the handcuffs. "Don't forget the key...please?"

	Alan smiled and left the boy alone, not like he could go anywhere,
the chair was bolted down. He asked around for the sketch artist, Jill
Abrams, and discovered she was out until one that afternoon. OK, lunch it
is then. Officer Riggs was in the break room when Alan approached.

	"That kid giving you any trouble?" Riggs asked.

	"Nope, what's with this assault business?"

	"He bumped me in the hall coming up here, I figured it might give
you some leverage," Riggs said.

	"Hmm, well drop it, he's cooperating just fine. Where exactly did
you find that disk?" Alan asked.

	"Back right hand pocket, it was all he had, no ID at all."

	"No money either? So what made the solicitation charge, did he
approach someone?"

	"Ya, a guy from the convenience mart on Jefferson said the boy was
hanging around out front, talking to guys, trying to sell that disk or
himself I suppose. It was a judgment call, he doesn't have a rap sheet,"
Riggs said. But the look on his face said he knew where this was going.

	"Well we'll need to drop that one too if he cooperates. Panhandling
without a license is about all this one is worth to you." Alan said.

	"Aw crap, detective, they'll laugh me right outta here on that
one," Riggs groaned.

	"No report, no foul for you...he's gonna give us a real
perp...maybe even a kid killer. I'll make sure your name is in my report
for the arrest, how's that?" Alan smiled.

	"Damn...that's mighty considerate of you...thanks."

	"Don't mention it; you did the best thing for him. Now I just need
to keep him off the streets. That arcade on Jackson, is it on your beat?"

	"Yup, grubby little joint," Riggs said.

	"Well if you see this boy there again I wanna know about it. It's
going to be under surveillance by this afternoon, the perp might hang
there. I'll make sure you guys get a sketch."

	"You going to do a stakeout?"

	"Nope, not yet...I think there are bigger fish to fry on this one,"
Alan said.

	"Let me know if you need any help, I hate fucking child molesters."

	"Don't we all," Alan said.

	And he meant that honestly because he wasn't one of them. It had
been hard to keep his hands off, easier said than done. The boys he had
slept with were all adults, but barely. The law said eighteen for consent;
it didn't say how old they had to look.

	Not that he prowled the streets, but he did use an escort service
on occasion. They had the sweetest boys, all legal, he checked them out
first. But he had never come close to a boy like Austin before; it was
going to be a trial.

	He grabbed a hand cuff key from the desk sergeant downstairs and
walked back up to his office. Austin hadn't moved an inch, he couldn't. But
the boy looked grateful when the cuffs were off.

	"We're set for the artist at one o'clock, are you hungry?" Alan
asked.

	"Yeah, but I gotta pee real bad first," Austin replied.

	Alan took the boy down to the Men's room and followed him
inside. The boy quickly stepped to the urinal and let out a sigh as he
began to urinate. Alan leaned against the wall watching, rules were rules,
and he was waiting.

	Austin finished and a sly grin came to his lips. "You wanna see
it?" he asked.

	Alan laughed. "Why? I have a whole disk full of your cock. Pack it
up and let's go eat."

	Austin zipped up and washed his hands, but as he passed by Alan
grabbed him by the shoulder.

	"Let's get one thing straight, don't go soliciting me like that
ever again, OK? If I wanted to fuck you I would have picked you up out of
the gutter. Selling yourself is a thing of the past, Austin, I'm gonna make
sure of that. You want sex from now on you are gonna have to earn it like
everyone else. You want a boyfriend; I'll find you a nice sixteen year old
to play with...OK?"

	Austin cringed at the hand on his shoulder, and he almost whimpered
at the pressure. "I'm not a fag...OK?"

	"Sure, and I'm the Easter Bunny, but you think I'm a fag."

	"Uh...sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that," Austin said.

	"No offense taken. I don't really think you understand yourself
just yet....give it time." Alan said.

	And then Alan saw the blush on the boy's cheeks and thought it was
adorable, what could he be thinking? Austin was at that age when sex should
be something he was just curious about, instead he was an expert, or so he
thought. Damn this was going to be tough; it would be like bringing a
junkie down off drugs.

	But the adults that had used the boy knew about his sexual
proclivities, and the sweeping sexuality the boy exuded. It had been that
means of gaining attention which finally bit him in the ass. Now it meant
Alan had to turn the boy against his former masters....a delicate task at
best.

	They took Alan's car south, out of the downtown area and on towards
Washington Park.

	"Where are we going?" Austin asked.

	"To lunch....aren't you hungry?"

	"Yeah....but why here? This is a scary neighborhood."

	"No it isn't....do Hispanic people scare you?" Alan asked.

	"Yeah...sorta...well I don't really know any," Austin said.

	"So you came all the way down from Belmont just to hustle
businessmen in the Loop?" Alan said. "I'm not buying that. A bus ride like
that would take...oh, say two hours with all the stops. Where do you stay
when you're downtown? You have a crash pad somewhere don't you?"

	"Uh...yeah I know some people."

	Alan looked over at the boy. So far the kid hadn't volunteered
anything beside this Bucky character; it was time to dig for more.

	"So how many kids crash at this place? I don't imagine you have a
suite all to yourself, are there a bunch of guys you hang with?"

	"Uh...look I am not allowed to say anything..." Austin began.

	"You haven't figured this out have you? The party is over for you,
it's gonna be cooperate or do juvy time, we both know that. So work with me
here, tell me the setup."

	Austin shrugged. "It's just an apartment, a couple blocks away from
Jackson. Uh, there are three boys staying there now, sometimes more, there
are some other people around too."

	"Who is in charge... this Bucky character?"

	"Nope, I only meet him about once a week. All our cash goes in an
envelope that Kevin keeps."

	"All right...and who is Kevin?" Alan asked.

	"He has the apartment next door...we're not allowed to go over
there. He calls us on the phone; we each have a cell phone.

	"And where is yours?" Alan asked.

	"Umm...I ditched it in the sewer when the cop chased me...Kevin
told me never to get caught with it."

	"This Kevin sounds pretty smart, so he must be your boss. Is he a
tough guy?"

	 Austin laughed and shook his head. "Kevin is a geek...a real
computer nerd. Hell, he's only a year older than I am."