Date: Thu, 1 Nov 2007 10:12:21 -0400
From: John Ellison <paradegi@sympatico.ca>
Subject: Aurora Crusade - Chapter 18

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and
any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,
events or locales is entirely coincidental and/or used fictionally.

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Copyright 2007 by John Ellison

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic scenes that some readers might find
disturbing. What is written in no way whatsoever represents the author's
personal feelings and is written in the context of the overall
series. Reader discretion is advised.

Reader comments -- except flames -- are always welcome. Please address your
comments/opinions to paradegi@sympatico.ca


Aurora Crusade


Chapter 18


	Michael Chan was in pain. His face was as bland and stoic as it
ever was, but his eyes were sparkling with laughter and his insides ached
from the effort to keep from chortling out loud. He did not really know
which was funnier: Cousin Tommy's tale of Billy Ng and the girls, or the
Major's face as he listened to it!
	Major Meinertzhagen was a notorious prude, and actively discouraged
any discussion of sex, in all its forms. He also could not understand that
a male might want to not only dress as a female, but act as one and undergo
surgical procedures to give him breasts! As for the ultimate surgery, the
Major refused to even consider it. As for how Billy Ng, a male, could
actually declare his love for a transvestite, if that was what they were
calling themselves these days, even after seeing the proof with his own
eyes, was beyond comprehension.
	Pete Sheppard's eyes also danced with hidden glee. He did not dare
laugh, for that would enrage the Major, and Pete made it a point to never
enrage the former SAS man. Pete was familiar with "he/shes", having
encountered some during his time in Vietnam. There were several bars in
Saigon where the "girls" were actually "boys", complete with the usual
appendages a boy would have. Pete had never availed himself of these
people, although he did admit that at the time the "girls" were so
beautiful that the head of his dick started tingling.
	Alistair, while not as worldly as Pete, was not bothered one way or
the other. He'd seen men dressed as women - fancy dress parties were all
the rage - and last Halloween Arden and Willy Chan had dressed as Apache
dancers, with Arden taking the female part. Not that Arden expressed any
great desire to be a girl. Quite the contrary. Arden rejoiced and revelled
in being a boy.
	While hardly a worldly young man, Alistair thought that he
understood Billy's infatuation. What difference was there, really, in
loving a man, who dressed as a man and acted like a man, and loving a man
who dressed like a woman? Not much, to Alistair's way of thinking, although
what Billy would do, how he would react, when Isabel took the ultimate step
in her transformation Alistair did not want to contemplate. So, he did not.
	Michael did not allow the jollity to continue for very long. There
were things to be done, after all, much more serious things. He coughed and
the office fell silent.
	Regarding the others a moment, Michael began, "With Minh and Diem
gone there will be a vacuum of power in Little Saigon," he stated flatly.
	"Should we exploit it, then?" asked the Major.
	"No," replied Michael with a firm shake of his head. "To be blunt,
the Vietnamese hate us, and while they will do business with us, they will
never allow us to assume control." He shrugged expressively. "Soon,
possibly as soon as the morning, word will leak out that Minh is with his
ancestors. His underlings will wait and when they are certain that Minh is
gone, they will attempt to gain control of Minh's business interests."
	The Major rubbed his chin reflectively. "Minh had an extensive
network of dealers for his narcotics trade. Each had an assigned area
. . ."
	Cousin Tommy picked up the train of thought. "With Minh and Diem
dead, there is no control. Dealers will try to expand their areas,
eliminate rivals, and so on."
	Michael nodded. "Others will try to take over the distribution
network . . ."
	"The Italians," said Pete. "They have access to the product, and
with Minh out of the way they will be the only suppliers of heroin and
cocaine. They shared the market with Minh."
	"Quite," replied Michael. "With Minh dead the Italians will control
the supply. Minh's people will not like that at all. They do not trust
outsiders."
	"There will be a war and the alleys and back streets of Little
Saigon will run red with blood!" offered the Major melodramatically.
	Michael saw a look cross Pete's face and raised his hand. "I know,
I know, it all sounds like a very bad Hollywood `B' movie, but you must
understand, Pete, the nature of the beasts." He rose and walked to the
French doors leading to the terrace. "Minh's people are thugs, Saigon
cowboys transplanted to the West by an act of war. They have no
subtlety. They know only intimidation and cruelty. They know the rule of
the gun. In the old days, in Saigon, an enemy, a competitor, was simply
eliminated, or coerced by atrocious acts into co-operating. To them what
worked in Saigon, also works here."
	"The Italians will attempt to take over and the Vietnamese will
resist. Other factions, one group or another, will try to take over the
minor businesses, and only the strongest and the most venal will succeed."
The Major shook his head. "There will be much killing!"
	For the first time Alistair spoke. "All of which will be to our
benefit!"
	Michael smiled inwardly. Alistair knew! Although he was not given
to showing emotion, Michael beamed at his cousin. "So, then, my prince,
explain please."
	Feeling self-conscious, Alistair looked to Pete for support. Pete
winked at him and nodded almost imperceptibly. Alistair gulped and spoke,
his voice soft, "When the inevitable wars break out, and the bodies start
littering the streets the police will use all their resources to discover
what is going on."
	Michael nodded. "Bodies in the street and bullets flying are
detrimental to the tourist trade."
	Alistair regarded his cousin and continued. "The police will meet a
wall of silence, but they will be persistent. Sooner or later they will
notice the Italians and they will try to find out just what their
involvement is. They will be like dogs chasing their tails, always turning
and turning but never really catching the tail!" Then he
smiled. "Brilliant!"
	The Major regarded Alistair in a new light. The boy obviously had a
first rate mind. "Brilliant?" he asked. "How so?"
	"While the police are chasing Vietnamese, and Italians, they will
not be looking at Chinese! While the opposition kills each other with
abandon, an astute man will quietly slip his own people into place."
	Michael softly applauded his new protégé's insight. Pete felt
something akin to pride swell in him and Cousin Tommy thought that when he
was older, and more experienced, Alistair would be a worthy successor to
Michael Chan.
	Michael saw the appraising looks of the others and tapped the
window frame. "We will wait and see how the situation in Little Saigon
plays out. Now, we must discuss others things."
	The Major reached into the breast pocket of his suit coat and
withdrew a sheaf of papers. His notes.
	"The situation in Quebec is concluded," the Major said. "General de
Lamer is dead, ostensibly the victim of a fire that destroyed his
house. Hunter is also dead, an apparent suicide, which will be confirmed by
the papers left behind in his residence. These papers show that not only
was he molesting his stepson, but caused his wife to be committed to an
insane asylum. Other documents will show that he was bankrolling de Lamer's
neo-Nazi program."
	To Michael's thinking, the Major was being much too smug. "The
police will investigate and make the connection between de Lamer and
Hunter," he pointed out.
	"True," agreed the Major, "but two things help us. First: nobody
wants the scandal that will erupt if and when de Lamer's fascist leanings
are made public. The Quebec separatists will not allow it. Second: the
federal Liberals will lose their power if and when it is revealed that de
Lamer was playing games, publicly supporting the party, while privately
funding the opposition."
	"Not to mention that he had private dreams of being the first
Commander in Chief of the Quebec Army." Michael shook his head. "De Lamer
was, as the saying goes, a piece of work."
	Nodding, the Major said, "Politically de Lamer's death is
dynamite. Trudeau and his clowns praised de Lamer publicly. Can you imagine
what the opposition will do with the knowledge that he was a traitor?" He
coughed delicately. "There is also the matter of the allegations of child
sexual abuse. The RCMP and the Sûreté de Quebec are investigating. We could
use this to our advantage."
	Michael shook his head. "No. We have no interest in politics, or
dead politicians." Then he said, "However, arrange for us to be kept
apprised of what is going on. There will be scampering in the shadows from
Ottawa to Quebec City when the news of de Lamer's attraction to young boys
becomes known. Who knows what the police will turn up and what the
politicians will bury in the deepest, darkest hole they can find."
	"Consider it done." The Major consulted his notes and
continued. "Logan Hartsfield will soon be on his way here, with suitcases
filled with documents Cousin Roy and his people found in Hunter's
office. Most of them are financial."
	"Cousin Joel will complain long and loudly," opined Michael with a
sigh. Joel was a computer analyst, programmer and expert hacker. Although
most of the initial research of the papers Logan would bring would be done
by Gabe Izard and Joe Hobbes, what they found, especially financial
matters, would be given over to Joel, which would add to his already heavy
workload, which meant that Joel would complain! While he was appreciative
of the work Joel did, Michael wondered if his cousin should be encouraged
to take a break and if he should suggest to Cousin Tommy, who was Joel's
lover, that he should arrange a therapeutic few days with him in a quiet,
out of the way vacation spot.
	". . . Logan will also be carrying a briefcase containing 150,000
U.S. dollars in large bills," the Major continued. "Hunter believed in
keeping a large sum of cash on hand, or so it seems."
	Michael raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but said nothing.
	The Major turned a page in his notebook and said, "In addition to
the American money, Hunter had 75,000 dollars in Canadian notes, and 350
Kreugerrands. Chef, knowing that you always reward a service, ordered the
Canadian funds to be given to Cousin Roy to defray his expenses."
	To Michael's mind, this was proper. Cousin Roy was expected to
render an account and, as his "service" had been personal to Michael, and
not business, the account would have been settled promptly. Michael thought
that Cousin Roy had not been adequately compensated. He also thought that
Cousin Ray would ask for nothing further. Michael had asked a service; it
had been given by Cousin Roy, and mere money could not adequately
compensate Cousin Roy, which meant that Michael might one day be asked to
perform a service for Cousin Roy. A service for a service. This was
traditional and Michael expected it, so again he said nothing.
	"The gold coins were given to an accountant named Hong. He examined
the documents that were found and identified more, which will help us
discover Hunter's money trail," finished the Major.
	Michael nodded. "Very good." So far as he was concerned the money
was well spent.
	It was Pete's turn to speak. "The arrangements for Phase Two are
complete. My men are in place, and Cousin Eddy's men are standing by."
	"The four men who will `leave' the country are also ready."
	"Their papers must be perfect," Michael cautioned. "The deception
must work and there must be no loose ends."
	"There won't be," said the Major. "We used the Italians for the
documents and their engraver is without peer."
	`He should be,' Michael thought, `for what the Italians were
charging for the engraver's services.'  He said aloud, "Doctor
Bradley-Smith?"
	"He leaves at noon on a flight to Belize, British Honduras,"
replied the Major, deadpan. "His room in the officers' quarters has been
cleaned out, and his funds transferred to an account in the Bahamas. His
letter of resignation from the Canadian Armed Forces is in the post."
	While Bradley-Smith was dead, he still needed to live for a few
more days. His execution and cremation were known to very few people, but
Michael did not want any questions raised, no search for him,
ever. "Contact Miles Boulton. Have him speak to his contacts in the
Vancouver Police. He is to arrange for a police report to be forwarded to
the Military Police in Victoria. The report is to say that the doctor was a
known habitué of Minh's brothel - he has the photos to prove it."
	The Major understood Michael's thinking and said, "Perhaps also a
confidential report that states that the doctor was known to frequent the
bath house, offering drugs, and his body, to all comers?"
	"Let Miles write the report. He will know just how to add the lurid
details that a confidential informant might relate." Michael sat behind his
desk and leaned forward. "The report must have the ring of truth to it. It
must show what a whore the doctor was. It must also be so detailed that the
Military Police will immediately act. They will find him gone, and think
themselves, and the Forces, well rid of him. They will report to
Bradley-Smith's commanding officer, who will be so horrified that he will
shut everything down."
	"It will be arranged," assured the Major.
	Michael nodded, "See to it, then." Then he asked, "What of
Toronto?"
	"The Chancellor reports that the teams have been deployed. He also
says that the Hospital is ready to receive the boys that are rescued."
	"We have arranged much the same," said Pete. "There will be food,
clothing, beds, and medical care waiting for the boys when they
arrive. Thad Stevens and Jude Benjamin have set up the Sick Bay, and Thad
has arranged for a doctor friend to attend, in the event any of the boys
need further medical attention."
	"Good. We must be prepared for everything . . . and anything."
Michael looked at his watch. "It is near time, gentlemen," he said.
	The others began to rise from their seats. "Alistair, please wait,"
Michael said.

******

	As the door closed behind the Major, Pete Sheppard and Cousin
Tommy, Michael regarded Alistair. "Tonight was, shall we say, somewhat
traumatic, yes?" he asked presently.
	Alistair, who had had a bird's eye view of the carnage that ended
in the deaths of so many men, nodded, but did not reply.
	Michael sighed. "I had hoped to spare you the unpleasant truths
that sometime intrude in our business."
	"Minh was ready and willing to kill you," Alistair replied. "His
elimination was a necessary business move."
	For a several contemplative moments Michael stared at his young
cousin. Then he said, "Minh craved power. He wanted to be a general
again. I would not do business with him - I did not trust him in any way -
and he took umbrage. His business interests did not conflict with mine, but
to Minh that was of no consequence. He was driven by his need to control
everything. I stood in his way and so I was to be eliminated. I took what
steps I felt necessary to prevent my elimination."
	"You will not take over his business?" asked Alistair.
	"No. I will not traffic in narcotics. I will not traffic in women,
or boys, or men." He looked directly at Alistair. "When you succeed me, as
you surely will, always consider what your competitors are doing. They will
come to you, and ask a service. Consider what they say but never, never,
let them know what you are thinking. If you refuse their service, and you
will, consider how they will react. Study them, listen to what they say,
but listen to how they say it. Look into their eyes, watch their faces, and
you will learn the truth."
	Michael stood abruptly and stared out of the window. The gardens
were dark, and forbidding. "The life I lead, the life I am asking you to
lead, brings great power and, in truth, danger. Men will want to take what
you have; some will try to take what you have. Never forget that you are a
target, an object of envy and never let your guard down and you must never
let any outsider know what you are thinking."
	Michael turned at stared at Alistair. "You will always be
alone. You cannot live your life as others lead theirs. Never let your
enemies know that you care for someone. They will use that caring against
you. There are powers arrayed against me of which you have no knowledge
. . . yet"
	Alistair paled. "Yet?"
	Michael nodded. "When I was younger than you, Uncle Henry Chan
called me into his room and told me that I would be his successor. I was
not asked, but I had known from a very early age that one day I would be
the Serenity. Uncle Henry, in time, told me many secrets, but some he did
not tell me. I shall not do that to you."
	Alistair nodded.
	"I was also asked to make a great sacrifice." Michael shrugged
expressively. "I was very young and the sacrifice was, to my mind, very
great, but then I came to understand why I was asked to give up something
that was to me, wonderful."
	A perplexed look came over Alistair's face. He wondered if Michael
was having second thoughts about allowing Pete Sheppard and him to be
together one day.
	"When I was young, I did what was asked of me, without thinking of
the consequences," Michael continued. "By not thinking I hurt someone I
cared for very much." He smiled ruefully. "I did not think of the effect my
actions would have on this person."
	"But the sacrifice was asked of you," temporized Alistair. "Had you
not made the sacrifice you would not have become the Serenity!"
	"Yes," replied Michael. "Uncle Henry made it very plain to me: the
sacrifice or I would return to being a schoolboy. I accepted and in the
doing I lost so much of life! There were so many things I was denied!" He
regarded Alistair. "Do not misunderstand, dear cousin, I knew exactly what
lay in my future. I accepted the isolation, the lost chances to be what a
young man should be. Every fibre of my being was directed at becoming the
Serenity, in serving my people, my family. I saw everything through a
tunnel. My life was devoted not to what I wanted to be, or to do, but to
preserving what Uncle Henry had built up, in expanding the empire he had
created, in defending that empire."
	Michael returned to staring into the dark garden. He saw two
shadows, darker than the surrounding gloom, and knew that Pete Sheppard's
men were on guard. "I became obsessed with the sanctity of my inheritance,
in being constantly on guard against my enemies, hiding my feelings and
never allowing anyone to know my pain. I would not allow your father, or
his brothers or his cousins, to become a part of the `Empire' because I
feared they would be harmed, killed, simply because they were a part of the
family."
	"You knew that would happen," returned Alistair. "Such things are a
part of the life you willing accepted."
	Again Michael was pleased with Alistair's astuteness. "I was
aware," he replied simply. "Just as aware that I was forced into living a
life that had to conform to the lives my business colleagues led, with all
their prejudices, all their traditions. I was forced to live a lie,
really. It was expected of me, you see."
	"If you had not, and do not, your enemies, the General Minhs, the
Triads, and yes, the Italians, would have used your lifestyle against
you. Any sign of weakness, and they would pounce!" Alistair insisted, "and
still they would have killed you if your death would bring them more power,
more wealth . . ."
	"Yes," interrupted Michael. "From the moment Uncle Henry died, they
began their plotting. I was young, and therefore I was presumed to be
weak."
	"But you attacked them first, and eliminated your enemies,"
countered Alistair. "You showed them your strength." He shook his
head. "But still they tried."
	Michael regarded Alistair and then motioned for him to continue.
	"Until quite recently, you had Chinese guards. I would see them
patrolling. Now, there are no Chinese guards." He regarded his cousin, his
dark eyes steady. "Something happened."
	"Yes. The Taiwanese triads thought that they could infiltrate my
home, my business. They failed."
	Michael's calm, cold demeanour did not surprise Alistair. There was
no room in "business" for anger, or for passion. "Are they . . . dead?"
	Michael shook his head. "Only one. The rest were sent home. What
happened to them there is not my concern."
	Alistair understood. In Michael's world, in the world of the
Triads, failure was not an option. He also understood what Michael was
trying to tell him. "You have told me that I am your heir. I accept that I
am your heir. I was sealed to your service and I understand what is
expected of me, just as I know what kind of a life lies ahead for me."
	Much to Alistair's surprise, Michael laughed quietly. "Cousin Eddy
Tsang's father wished to show that he, and his sons, were a different breed
of Tsang. Neither I, nor my brothers, were `sealed' in the sense that you
were. We were assimilated and culturally it was expected, so it was
done. There were no presents of jade and gold."
	"But . . ."
	"The sealings were seen by Eddy's father, and Uncle Henry, as a
special mark of devotion. Eddy's father thought that because the boys of
the Chan family, and the Chiangs, were circumcised it set us apart, marked
as Mandarins, if you will. He wanted to be more of a Tsang, who, to be
honest, were and still are, peasants, ferociously loyal to me, yes, but
happy if their rice bowls are full, happy to live in sloth and filth,
because that is what they knew. By sealing his sons, Tsang Su Shun thought
to prove to Uncle Henry not only his loyalty and devotion, but to ensure
that his sons understood that they were different from the run-of-the-mill
Tsangs."
	"Uncle Henry sent a gift of gold to Shun when Eddy was sealed,"
Alistair pointed out. "He sent gifts to my father when I was sealed."
	"Yes, he did," agreed Michael, "as a sign of his approval. He also
sent gifts to the Viceroys who all thought that by having their sons
`sealed' they would gain further respect and additional power. By sealing
their sons they strengthened their ties with the Serenity - Uncle Henry -
and confirmed their loyalty to him."
	"Does that mean that you, as the Serenity, disapprove?" asked
Alistair, confused.
	"Not at all," countered Michael. "I heartily approve because I
understand, as Uncle Henry understood, that some people feel the need to
show that they are unlike their peers. From time immemorial man has marked
his special status. The Roman patricians wore togas edged in purple, a sign
that they were "noble", and not plebeian. Other cultures demanded certain
tattoos, permitted for the few, and denied the many. In China Mandarins and
nobles wore certain coloured robes - denied to all but them. Their hats
were adorned with a button of a specific gemstone, which told everyone how
important they were. When these Mandarins travelled they were allowed so
many outriders, hangers-on, and so on. These traditional modes of dress and
travel marked them as special people, people who enjoyed, if not the
confidence of the Emperor, at least his favour. It is the same with the
Tsangs, and those who chose to seal their sons."
	"Then I will keep the tradition and encourage it," said Alistair.
	"Good."
	"I also understand from what you have told me that I will be
expected to make sacrifices for the good of the `Empire' I will inherit,
the family I must protect, and those who, through some sign, give me their
loyalty."
	"Yes."
	"So, I must give up Pete Sheppard," Alistair blurted suddenly.
	Michael stared at his cousin. That was not what he wanted, not at
all. "Actually, I want you to experience life," he said.
	"I am sorry, Serenity, I do not understand."
	"Alistair, you are too young to be sequestered behind walls! I do
not want to deny you what I was denied. What I do want is for you to think,
to consider, to truly want to be the Serenity, to expect to live a life of
some isolation and loneliness. You must experience life in order to
understand it." He turned and walked to Alistair and placed his hand on the
boy's shoulder.
	"I would make you my heir, but only if you want it. When you told
me that you would not live your life without Pete I not only understood, I
approved."
	"You did?"
	"I did. While I want you as my heir, I also want you to walk the
path to leadership carefully, to consider what lies ahead and to know how
to proceed." He gave Alistair's shoulder a squeeze. "At the moment, you are
in love. But, how will you feel in a year?"
	"I . . . I don't know," said Alistair. "I think I will still be in
love with Pete. I am not infatuated!"
	"Perhaps you are not," returned Michael. "Still, you must wait
before you confirm your love for Pete, wait until you are sure. Wait until
you are sure that he feels the same way. I cannot tell you when the time is
right, but I can tell you that you will know. Then, you will know how to
protect him, and he will know how to protect you. You must never rush into
a situation that could, at the end of the day, bring you harm. Never act
rashly. Time is your friend, not your enemy. Use the weapon you have been
given, not the weapons that others take up."
	Again, Alistair was confused. He watched as Michael's hand rose and
his finger pointed at his temple. "Use this, use your brain! There are more
ways, better ways, to bring down an enemy than blowing his brains out!"
	"Minh?"
	"Minh was a stubborn, bull-headed man. In his world force and the
gun were the road to power. To Minh, force was power, and power was
force. He did not understand his enemy." Michael shook his head.
	"He didn't do his homework, to coin a phrase," Alistair said.
	"There is another phrase: `Hold your friends close; hold your
enemies closer'," said Michael. "Study them, understand them, and wait. Use
their weaknesses against them, and let them . . ."
	"Destroy themselves," added Alistair.
	Michael nodded. "Because of our ancestry, we are forced to do
business with the Triads. They want to control me, control my
businesses. The authorities in Hong Kong, and Taiwan, are closing in. The
Triad leaders know this and so they wish to change their base of operations
to North America. To do so they must come to me."
	"Because you have contacts in every Chinatown," offered Alistair.
	"Yes. They would like to take over, eliminate me, because they know
they cannot force me to conform to their methods. Their reputation for
relentless violence, for their amoral venality, for their greed, precedes
them. No one wants to deal with them, but with me out of the picture my
viceroys will have no choice. The triads will send men to eliminate not
only those who owe me loyalty, but also their families." He shrugged. "They
infiltrated my security force, which I was compelled to employ because I am
Chinese, and therefore must conform to Chinese values and traditions."
	"But you discovered the plot and sent their men home, to Hong
Kong."
	"Yes. They plotted well, but they underestimated me, thinking me
too `Westernized' to be as devious as they are." Michael shook his
head. "So now, while they ponder their next move, and point fingers at each
other, I have begun their destruction."
	Alistair's eyes widened. "You will do to them what you did to
Minh?"
	"Not at all," replied Michael blandly. "Remember I said that there
is more than one way to destroy an enemy. I shall use their greed, their
weaknesses, against them. It will take time, no one will die, and at the
end of the day they will be brought down." Michael regarded Alistair
again. "Vengeance is best approached calmly, dispassionately, and with
great patience. Always remember that. Better to wait than to rush
precipitously into the thing. Minh launched an operation against me using
thugs, and he did not study me, did not know me, and did not think!"
	"He paid the price," said Alistair flatly. "As will the Triad
leaders, I think."
	"Yes. Minh paid for his rashness with his life. The Triads will
lose their freedom. I shall not have a hand in it. Others will do my work
for me."
	"Now I do not understand."
	"Listen and you will," Michael replied, "and then you will tell me
what will happen."
	Alistair knew that this was a test. He nodded.
	"The Italians have a master engraver who has made engraving plates
for U.S. one hundred dollar bills, or so they claim. They are prepared to
use these plates and print as many counterfeit notes as they can
distribute. There are, however problems."
	Alistair thought. "No counterfeit money is ever as perfect as the
money printed by the Treasury."
	Michael's left eyebrow rose slightly. "Oh?"
	Alistair nodded. "Well, first there are the plates. Everything is
hand engraved and the slightest deviation from the real engraved plates is
noticeable, not to the naked eye, but an expert can tell the
difference. Then there is the natural vanity of the engraver."
	Michael had not thought of that. "Explain, please."
	"Well, if I were an engraver, and spent hours and hours making a
plate that would produce perfect notes, I would want my labours to be, um,
recognized, so I would make one, tiny, almost undetectable sign, my
signature if you will." Alistair scratched his chin. "Say an architectural
change, or the way the limb of a decorative tree bends, or the acanthus
leaves have two details, instead of one."
	"Go on," directed Michael, intrigued.
	"The paper," replied Alistair. "If one is going to go to all that
time and expense to make the perfect plate, to perfect the perfect note,
one must use the right paper. Duplicating the paper is most difficult,
almost impossible because the production is tightly controlled. To
duplicate bank note paper takes time, experimenting with different ways,
and so on. It is also very expensive."
	"Which is what one of the things the Italians want me to do:
advance the funds to pay for the research that will lead to the perfect
paper."
	"Which you will do, because it fits in with your plans, and because
the Italians will repay you every penny you `invest' in their scheme."
Alistair smiled. "This will all take time, of course, and will allow you to
interest the Triad leaders, perhaps allow them to invest, and to plot a way
to take away the most important thing."
	"Which is?" asked Michael.
	"Distribution." Replied Alistair confidently. He shrugged. "There
is no point in printing counterfeit money if you don't have a way to get
rid of it!" He paused and the said, smiling, "Which is where the Triads
come in. It makes sense for you to be asked to become involved."
	Michael sensed that Alistair and he were thinking along the same
lines. "How so?" he asked his cousin carefully.
	"Well, while we have contacts in every Chinatown, and in the major
cities, the volume of counterfeit notes we could move, even with the
tourist traffic, would be piddling compared to what the Triads could move."
	Michael was pleased when Alistair used the word, "we". He nodded
and motioned for Alistair to continue.
	"The Triads control Hong Kong, and have their tentacles deep in
Singapore. They also have major interests in Thailand, in all the Asian Rim
countries. All major tourist spots! Can you imagine the number of people
who visit the East every year, not only from the States, but from Europe."
	"Precisely," agreed Michael. He smiled. "Mind, you did forget
London, Paris, Bonn, all the major European capitals."
	Alistair snickered. "Well, I am not infallible, and to be truthful,
I did not think that the Triads had any influence there."
	"They do," replied Michael. "Their reach is worldwide, although the
authorities think otherwise."
	Nodding, Alistair asked, "So, what will happen?"
	Michael took a deep breath. "The Italians will solve their paper
problem, print the notes and I will send examples to Hong Kong. Once the
provenance and quality of the notes have been established, the Triads will
agree to move large quantities. They will pay, oh, twenty cents on the
dollar. They will agree that I will distribute the notes here in North
America."
	"Won't that be dangerous?" queried Alistair.
	"It would be, if I actually distributed the notes," replied Michael
flatly.
	Alistair could not quite believe what he was hearing. "What?"
	"Alistair, while it will take time, eventually the United States
Treasury will become aware that there are high quality notes floating
around. No nation protects its currency so much as the United States. They
will never rest and never give up until they find the source of the
counterfeit notes, and the method used to distribute them."
	Michael's words caused Alistair to think. "Of course, I see what
you mean. Large denomination notes, in large quantities, would raise red
flags in Washington. They would be examined as they come into the Central
Bank for redemption so . . ."
	"Treasury agents will fan out across the country," interjected
Michael, "and sooner or later they will track down where the notes are
coming from. If I do not allow my `share' to enter the financial
mainstream, they cannot point their little fingers at me!"
	Alistair laughed. "They will discover that the notes are coming
from Hong Kong, and make enquiries." He shook his head. "You are
diabolical, cousin!"
	"Of course I am," replied Michael easily. He beamed at Alistair. "I
must be, and thus far I think you will be my peer."
	"One day, perhaps," conceded Alistair. "What I wish to know though,
is how do you plan on staying under the U.S. Treasury radar?"
	Michael made a deprecating gesture. "Well, I point out the dangers
of distributing the notes in North America to the Triads, and to the
Italians. They will think me weak, and timid, too content with my pitiful
little empire, too . . . `Canadian'. They will very slowly ease me out. I
shall let them."
	Alistair gave Michael an admiring look. Then he frowned. "But they
will also then think that because of this perceived weakness, that you are
ripe for the picking."
	Michael nodded. "Yes, they will." He shook his head. "In their
foolishness, they will forget that I have very potent weapons."
	"You do?"
	"I have the Tsangs, who will never betray my trust in them. The
Triads - the Italians are much too smart - will try to suborn the
Tsangs. They will fail. Then there is Pete Sheppard, and his men. The
Triads are intelligent enough to know not to even try to bring Pete and his
men into their web. Pete is loyal to me, as are his men, and they all do
not trust Asians other than me. Trust them with your life, Alistair."
	"I already do," responded Alistair. He looked at Michael. "I love
Pete. I know you think I am infatuated with him, but I am truly in love
with him."
	"I know," replied Michael with a slight nod of his head. "I also
know that you would confirm your love, but that must wait. You have much to
learn, Alistair. This will take time, and you must give your education all
of your attention."
	Alistair took a deep breath. "Serenity, I am willing, no, I am
determined, to follow the path I was set on at my sealing. I understand
what is expected of me, I understand what I am expected to be, and to do. I
understand that I must be calm, analytical if you will, conservative and
watchful in everything I do. I understand that there will come a time when
I will either kill men, or order their killing. I will protect what I am
given!"
	"Which is why you were chosen," responded Michael, waiting
patiently for what he knew was coming.
	"All things I will do!" declared Alistair, "but dammit, Michael,
I'm 18! I am a man and I don't see why I must bow to your will when it
comes to Pete and me! I am not a monk, and neither is Pete! I am a teenager
. . ." He paused and stepped over the edge of the cliff. "I'm in love, and
I'm horny! I want to feel Pete's warmth!" He gave his cousin a fierce
look. "God damnit, I want to get laid, and I want to get laid by Pete
Sheppard!"

******

	At first, Michael looked stunned. Then he started to laugh heartily
- a rarity that would have surprised the Major. Then, once he had gained a
measure of control, he said, "You have fire. I can understand why The
Phantom was attracted to you. He saw the fire, and recognized that you have
a place in the Tapestry."
	"The what?" exclaimed Alistair, "and I fail to see the humour
. . ."
	"Calm down, my son," said Michael, raising his hand. "I am not
unaware, or unsympathetic to your, um, plight."
	Alistair sniffed.
	Michael, to his credit, did not remind Alistair that he was heir in
waiting. He realized that he was dealing with a teenage boy, a boy who had
lived a privileged, if sheltered life. Michael reasoned that Alistair's
sexual activity had been limited to his hand, but there was the possibility
that he and the cousins had been . . . active. Michael knew that one could
not keep a group of men penned up and then expect them not to turn to each
other for companionship.
	Michael was also well aware of how he felt the night Uncle Henry
had told him that he must give up Joel. Uncle Henry had only been trying to
protect his nephew, true, but Michael had to admit that he had never, in
his heart, forgiven Uncle Henry for giving the order.
	Alistair was unaware of what had transpired so many years ago, but
he was perceptive enough to think that Michael was wavering. So, he took
the bull by the horns.
	"Serenity, I ask for nothing that is impossible to give. I know why
you are refusing to allow Pete and me to prove our love. You ask me to wait
- and I will, although I do not want to - because you want me to be sure,
to trust, and to know." He looked at his cousin. "I know that you are
trying to protect me from disappointment. But . . . is it not better that I
learn the lesson myself? Tonight you allowed me to witness the
extermination of an enemy. Perhaps next week, or next month, you will ask
me to actually participate, instead of observe. When I am allowed to make
decisions, I will do it, but why can I not now make my decision about
Pete?"
	Before Michael could answer, Alistair continued. "Can you not trust
me to make the right decision now? How long must I be a student, before
that happens?"
	Although he did not want to admit it, Michael knew that Alistair
was right. Trust played a great part in all of his dealings. Alistair, in a
way, trusted Pete. Michael trusted Pete and knew that he would not disobey
an order. Michael considered this and thought that Alistair was young, not
impetuous, and would learn. The boy would make mistakes, and Michael
expected that he would. Alistair needed to make mistakes in order to learn
from them. The question before him now was, had he made a mistake with
Pete?
	Pete Sheppard was a good man. He was also a man of honour and
integrity and Michael doubted that Pete had it in him to use Alistair. Pete
was no Daniel Bradley-Smith, who would have copulated with the neighbour's
dog if it were male and gave him release. Pete was also discrete, which
helped. The former marine knew that if his relationship with Alistair
became known, their enemies would strike. He would do everything, anything,
to keep Alistair from harm. It struck Michael that Pete actually did love
the boy.
	But Pete would not act, would not pursue his love, if he did not
have Michael's approval and consent. There it was, and now Michael had to
deal with it.
	For a long time Michael mulled over what he should do. In a way he
felt indebted to Pete. The poor man, who had probably not been with anyone
since Viet Nam, if then, had volunteered to sleep with the odious
doctor. Michael had not been proud of that little exercise. He thanked God
that the young knights had taken Pete under their collective wings and
helped him once the deed was done.
	Michael was not, however, going to base any decision on Alistair's
need to "get laid"! He had trusted Alistair enough to allow him to
participate in the Minh business, and trusted him enough to allow him to
participate in what was to come later this morning. Michael had Alistair
participate because he needed to know how the boy would react in a
"killing" situation. How would he handle the stress, and the trauma of
watching men die? Alistair had reacted well. He had not run away and hidden
under his covers. He had observed, and remained stoic, at least
outwardly. His actions here, in the office, had been calm and cool. The boy
was also capable of analysing a situation and finding the right answer. So
. . . The Phantom was right, and Michael knew it.
	Michael made his decision. "I will speak to Pete," he said
abruptly.
	"What?" Alistair started from his chair. "What will you tell him?"
	"Alistair, never be afraid to admit, if only to oneself, that a
mistake has been made and to correct it." He shrugged. "I made a
mistake. You are right, in that I must learn to trust your judgement." A
sigh escaped Michael's lips as he said, "It is just that you are so young
. . ."
	Alistair stood up and looked at his uncle. "You might say the same
for your young knights. You have placed the future of your Order in their
hands. In time you will place in my hands the future of your business." He
cocked his head expressively. "Wherein lies the difference?"
	"Again, a mistake," responded Michael. "I have equated youth with
inability. You are a Chan, and I think you have inherited all of the Chan
traditions and ability." He returned Alistair's look. "You may have your
Pete Sheppard."
	Alistair sat in his chair with a loud thud. "I may?" he gasped.
	"Your relationship, such as it is at the moment, is a private
matter. I will not interfere so long as it does not impact on my
interests."
	This was truer that Alistair knew. Joel and Cousin Tommy were
deeply involved, and Michael had said nothing to either man, although he
knew that if the knowledge of their affair became known to Tommy's wife the
ensuing scandal would draw looks and raise eyebrows all over
Chinatown. Joel was well known for his activism when it came to
homosexuals. He could - and would - ignore public disdain as he always had.
	Cousin Tommy, however, was an entirely different matter. He was
known as a "player", and a ladies man. When Tommy was just a boy, almost
from the moment he discovered the delights of being a teenage boy, a line
of outraged fathers formed at Uncle Henry's door.
	Uncle Henry would berate Cousin Tommy, threaten him with exile in
China, and once even considered having him "sealed", having been told by a
friend that circumcision had first been introduced (in England) as a
preventative to masturbation and excessive sexual behaviour!
	Cousin Tommy would be contrite, promise to behave and still the
fathers arrived, demanding compensation for their daughters' violated
virtue and deflowering. Uncle Henry was always trying to quench the fires
of Tommy's youthful lust, always failing, and always handing out gifts of
gold and jade, jewels and wads of bank notes.
	Lust, Michael had learned early on, could be very expensive!
	There was also the matter of Cousin Tommy being married, and a
father! How or why Tommy had decided to shift to the other bus Michael did
not know, and thought that he would never know. He was already thinking
about what he would need to do when Tommy's wife came howling for Joel's
head, at the least.
	Fortunately Michael knew the measure of the woman. He would
relocate her and her children to another city, another province and ensure
that her lifestyle was maintained. Cousin Tommy was much too valuable to
lose over such a simple matter of infidelity, even if it were with another
man! Michael would protect Cousin Tommy, would chastise him mildly, and
then let life go on.
	Of course, Alistair had no need to know Michael's plans for Cousin
Tommy, so Michael did not tell him. He would, in time, reveal these plans
to Alistair, but now was not the time. Alistair's relationship was to be
considered.
	"As your relationship is a private matter, I shall let you handle
it," Michael said. "I would wish, however, that you wait before you and
Pete, um, consummate your . . . um, well, let us say that your first time,
um, it should be with the right man, at the right time."
	Alistair had never seen Michael so flustered. He had heard that his
cousin was very circumspect, and prudish, when it came to discussing sex -
which no one could ever recall him doing. The Serenity was embarrassed, and
sounding like a Victorian mother on the eve of a daughter's wedding,
advising her of what was to come. Alistair giggled and wondered if his
cousin was going to tell him to drape himself in the Union Flag and think
of England!
	Michael saw the amusement in Alistair's eyes. The whole
conversation was somewhat humorous, after all. He wanted to be stern, but
could not. Alistair was in love, and there it was. Love. . .
	"Alistair, I am only asking you to be discrete, and careful. When
you give your heart, be certain that the person you give it to is worthy of
it."
	"Pete is!" insisted Alistair. "So, you will speak to him?"
	"I will," replied Michael. "It is a private matter, after all."
	Pleased that he was now going to be allowed to pursue his
relationship with Pete, Alistair then asked about something that he had
been wondering about since the young knights had first appeared in his
garden. "In an hour or so you will send men out to punish men for
something."
	The abrupt change in conversation did not altogether surprise
Michael. Alistair was young, and had the impetuosity and directness of
youth. "Yes," he replied simply.
	"This . . . `operation' . . . is it business, or is it personal?"
	"It is neither," replied Michael firmly. "It is about justice and
keeping one's word!"
	Alistair was taken aback. "Justice? One's word?" he asked, his
voice low.
	"Justice," repeated Michael, "and . . . Alistair, the measure of a
man is his word. In business when you reach an accommodation, you give your
word that you will do what you say you will do. The same holds true in your
personal life. When you give your word, that is the end of it! You cannot
take it back; you cannot suddenly decide that what you have sworn to do is
what you really do not want to do!"
	Alistair considered Michael's words. "I . . . you . . . would lose
face. We would lose our honour. No one would trust us in anything!"
	"Yes. That is what was wrong with Minh. He would give his word, and
then break it. He had no honour, just as the men we punish tonight have no
honour!"
	Nodding his understanding, Alistair hesitated. He had to point out,
"Michael, I understand what happened with Minh. What I do not yet
understand is why you are involved in, what shall I call it?"
	"Call it what the young knights call it: a crusade. Minh was a
settling of accounts. What the Order does this morning will be a
restoration of honour and integrity."
	"The Order?" questioned Alistair.
	Considering Alistair's love for a man, and his firm intention to
consummate that love, Michael reasoned that it was time to tell his heir
about his most precious gift and desires.
	"When I was a boy, much younger than you are now, I was refused
entry to St. George's School because I was Chinese. At the time, Chinese
were second class citizens, without exception and it did not matter how
much money one had." He regarded Alistair a moment. "Because of a
fortuitous and quite accidental meeting you are now a student at
St. George's, as are your brother and cousins."
	"I heard that Uncle Henry `arranged' our entry. To be honest, I
thought he used, um, persuasion, or built the new Chem Building."
	"He did not do the first, and yes, Uncle Henry's money built the
Chem Building."
	"So what happened?"
	"Uncle Henry worked out of a restaurant that was across the roadway
from the Chancellery of the Archdiocese. He, and I, as it happened were
lunching and two men came in. They had been visiting the Chancellery and
had been refused a request. Uncle Henry greeted them, bought them a drink,
and they exchanged stories about the injustices inflicted on them by the
clergy of the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches."
	"Organizations that guard their prerogatives and prejudices
jealously," opined Alistair.
	"That they do," agreed Michael. "The two men were brothers, Bertie
and Louis Arundel . . ."
	Alistair thought a moment. "Arundel? That is the same name as the
Twins, Todd and Cory."
	"Yes. Bertie Arundel is their father, and Louis is their uncle. The
Arundels, together with the Levesons, who are related by birth and
marriage, are perhaps the two most influential families in the province."
	"They asked a service?" suggested Alistair.
	Michael shook his head. "Quite the opposite. They listened to Uncle
Henry and used their considerable influence with the school
authorities. Suddenly both Joel and I were students at St George's School."
	Alistair knew how such things worked. "Which meant that Uncle Henry
owed them a service, to be paid when and if they asked for it?"
	"Yes, but the Arundels did not ask for a service. They were
gentlemen, and as gentlemen recognized an injustice, which they corrected."
	"You said that the Arundels had been disappointed by the Church
authorities, yes?"
	"Louis Arundel wished to become the guardian of a boy - his name is
Gabriel Izard and he now works for us. The boy had been sexually abused by
a Christian brother at the orphanage where he lived. When the abuse became
known the Church quickly moved the brother to Newfoundland, I
believe. Louis Arundel had grown to love the boy, and wanted him to be his
son. As Louis was not a Catholic, the Archbishop would not permit
guardianship of a Catholic boy by an Anglican, single man."
	Alistair had been raised on whispered tales of Uncle Henry and his
powers. "Uncle Henry intervened." It was a statement, not a question.
	Again Michael nodded. "It is the custom of the Catholic Church to
move paedophile priests out of diocese, to prevent scandal. It was done
then, it is still being done. The Auxiliary Bishop, a man named Finnerty,
was involved, of course. He was determined to protect the image of the
Church. He was also stupid."
	"How so?"
	"When Louis Arundel petitioned for guardianship, Finnerty quoted
Canon Law and refused the petition. Uncle Henry felt that he owed the
Arundels and had Cousin Tommy make inquiries. He then used his influence,
and Louis Arundel gained a ward."
	Alistair could only imagine what Uncle Henry's "influence"
entailed, and had no doubt that someone had paid a heavy price for refusing
the guardianship. He asked, "Was this when you became involved with the
Order?"
	"No." Michael shook his head sadly and asked, "You are aware that
Cousin Joel is homosexual?"
	Nodding, Alistair replied, "I know. Cousin Joel has always been
held up to me as a depraved man bent on `converting' me, Arden, all the
cousins, to his way of life. My father never refers to Cousin Joel if he
can help it. I think Father is ashamed that Cousin Joel exists."
	Michael knew of the prejudice and bigotry that the Chinese
community shared with the White community when it came to homosexuals. Such
bigotry and hatred had been going on for almost 2,000 years and Michael did
not see it ending anytime soon. Given Joel's activities as a boy, and
lately his activism, Michael felt it necessary for Alistair to understand
exactly what Joel's position was.
	"Joel is a valued member of my household," Michael said. "He has
done, and is doing, valuable work for us. You will be working with him and
I assure you that he will not attempt anything improper."
	Alistair accepted Michael's statement. For someone who had been
slavering and pining for fresh young boys, Joel had never been around the
house, ever, and studiously avoided any contact with his family. Even so,
given the Chinese psyche and thousands of years of bigotry, buttressed by a
hundred or so years of Western hypocrisy, he understood his father's
attitude. He was, however, wondering just where Joel fit in so he asked,
"But Joel has something to do with the Order?"
	Michael shook his head. "Joel is not a member. He is too flamboyant
and too much involved in what is becoming a `Gay Rights' movement. The
Order eschews publicity of any kind, and actively works to keep its very
existence secret."
	"All right. But he does have something to do with your becoming
involved with . . ."
	"The Sovereign and Noble Order of St. John of the Cross of Acre,"
finished Michael. "I am the Grand Master."
	"You are?"
	"I am. It is an Order dedicated to helping homosexuals, in
combating prejudice against them and protecting those who cannot defend
themselves." He regarded Alistair and said quietly, "The Order was founded
by homosexuals, and many of its members are homosexual."
	Alistair wondered if Michael's words were a subtle admission that
he was homosexual. Then he thought that whatever Michael was, he would keep
his personal life, personal. "Is the Serenity gay?" Alistair asked
himself. There had never been a sign that Michael was anything but a man
driven to maintain his family, and his businesses. So far as Alistair knew,
and from his own observations since coming to the house, there was no one
who Michael favoured above all others, no special person who had the
ultimate influence.
	Nor was there a hint of anything untoward in Michael's
life. Alistair knew, and he was sure that Michael knew, that servants, no
matter how loyal, gossiped. While the people they served more or less
avoided each other, and there had been no intercourse between Michael's
armed cantonment and the family compound, the servants did visit back and
forth. When they came to call, they sat in the kitchen and gossiped about
their employers, which meant that if the cook knew, the amahs most
certainly knew. Alistair did not know much about what went on in Michael's
house, but he did know that Michael Chan slept alone.
	And yet . . .
	Michael had said that he had been asked to make a great sacrifice
when Uncle Henry named him his heir. Michael had also said that while he
had made the sacrifice, he had hurt someone he cared for deeply. Alistair
wondered who that someone had been. He could not think that it had been
Joel Chiang. Cousin Joel had been a thorn in everyone's side for years. He
was gay, didn't care who knew it, and was determined to live his life as he
wanted to live it. Everybody knew that Joel was "out" as the saying went
and well-known in the gay community. Alistair's father and uncles railed
whenever a new story, true or not, was whispered about. There was even a
story that Joel preferred young white men, and always had one in residence
in his apartment.
	And yet . . .
	Joel's presence in the cantonment was curious. So far as Alistair
and the family knew, Joel and Michael were hardly "kissing cousins" and
Joel was never included in anything, least of all Michael's affairs, and in
fact had been estranged for years.
	As he thought more about Cousin Joel, Alistair decided that
whatever Joel was doing, whatever service he was performing, he was not,
and never had been, Michael's special cousin and lover.
	There was still the matter of Michael's involvement with the
Order. A question nagged at Alistair's mind, and he asked it, "Did Cousin
Joel have anything to do with you becoming a member of the Order?"
	Michael nodded. He sensed that Alistair was filled with questions,
but would not ask them. He also would not ask if he, Michael, was
homosexual, just as Michael would not ask if Alistair was gay, or merely
going through a period of teenage curiosity and angst. He said, "You are
aware of the growing gay community in the West End?"
	"Yes. There are many gay owned business, hotels, shops, and so
on. There are also cafés and bars, and bath houses catering to the gay
trade. The area is large, and growing."
	"Well, when he was younger, Cousin Joel went where his needs could
be satisfied. The churches, the politicians from time to time climbed onto
their moral high horses and demanded that the police do something about the
`abscess' on the city's body politic."
	Alistair sniffed his contempt for the church leaders and
politicians. "Raids," he said simply.
	"Yes," replied Michael. "At the time, when the police raided a
known homosexual gathering place the newspapers made much of it. They also
published the names of the men `found in' the act so to speak."
	"Cousin Joel was a `found in'?"
	"Sadly, yes. Uncle Henry could not allow the scandal or Joel being
identified as being found in a bath house published for all to read!"
	Such a thing was something Alistair could understand. Uncle Henry,
the uncle of a now identified homosexual, a man arrested for performing
lewd acts, would lose much face. Such a thing was not to be countenanced.
	"Uncle Henry knew that Bertie Arundel had contacts in the police
department, which at the time Uncle Henry did not. He also knew that the
Arundels were honourable men and, given Uncle Henry's assistance in the
Izard matter, he though to speak to them."
	"Which he did."
	"Yes. He asked a service. Bertie Arundel made a telephone call,
Cousin Joel was released from jail and the newspapers did not print the
story."
	Alistair was impressed. He had always been led to believe that
there was literally nothing that Uncle Henry, and now Michael, could not
accomplish.
	"When Uncle Henry died," Michael continued, "not only did the Order
send flowers, but Bertie Arundel, his wife, and Louis Arundel defied
convention and attended the funeral."
	"A public display of their friendship - and their association -
with him," observed Alistair.
	"Yes. A display, I might add, that could and did leave them open to
scrutiny by the authorities. Understand, Alistair, that friendship with us
is fleeting, and very, very private." Michael paused, remembering. "After
the funeral Bertie Arundel explained to me his relationship with Uncle
Henry. He then told me about the Order and invited me to become a member, a
knight."
	"But, Michael, you said that the Order was founded by homosexuals
and that the members are . . ."
	"I said many of the members, not all," interrupted Michael. "The
Order, in its Rule, provided for men who are not homosexual, but wish to
redress the many wrongs over the centuries against them, to become
members."
	Alistair had very little knowledge of the workings of the Orders of
Knighthoods. He did know that each had specific classes, however, and so
Michael's rise in the Order, and his position, more or less conformed to
what Alistair knew, although he did wonder how a so-called "straight" man
could become the Grand Master of an Order of knights dedicated to
protecting homosexuals, and basically homosexual in and of itself.
	"You have questions," Michael said. "I promised you no secrets, so
here is the truth. The Order has several classes of knights, which I have
recently changed. One begins as an `Ordinary' or `Professed' knight, and
advances, sometimes, through the classes to the highest level, a Professed
Knight of Donat and Justice."
	"To profess is to declare, or admit, publicly, something," said
Alistair, a strange, uneasy feeling creeping into his body.
	"Yes. Non-homosexual knights are not required to declare their
heterosexuality.  Homosexual knights `profess' that they are indeed members
of the universal brotherhood, and only professed knights may be elected to
the Grand Council, and to the office of Grand Master."
	A look of profound shock crossed Alistair's face. Michael had just
admitted, no matter how obliquely, that he was gay! Such a secret, so
well-kept, would destroy him if it ever became known. This admission gave
confirmation to Alistair that he would become the Serenity. It was a great
honour, a great confidence, and for a while Alistair was overwhelmed by it.
	Michael did not pursue his secret further. Alistair, by tradition,
and now by trust, would never speak a word of it. "Alistair, you will one
day be asked to join the Order. You are not required to, and indeed, you
are quite free to refuse. If you do decide to accept the invitation, a
rather large, irascible cook will speak with you. He is the Proctor and he
will decide if you are worthy. You will no doubt have many questions, all
of which the Proctor will answer. There will be no pressure, no influence
brought against you. You, and you alone, will decide."
	Alistair nodded. Then he asked, "The young men who were here, the
`Boys of Aurora', they are knights?"
	"All but four. Two are not Christians, and therefore cannot become
knights. They are `Companions of the Order'. They are not homosexual. The
third young man is ambiguous as to his sexuality, while the fourth is firm
in his sexuality as heterosexual. Both decline to be circumcised, as is
required under Article 26 of the Rule. As a special favour to our Prince of
the Order I have issued, as Grand Master, a special remainder for them and
they are also Companions."
	"Yet they are all brothers, or so they call each other," responded
Alistair.
	"Yes. Philip Lascelles, whom they all call `The Phantom', has
greatly influenced them. He is one of those fortunate people who
immediately draw others to him. He inspires trust and confidence and, if I
may, deep, abiding love. He will be the Grand Master one day, I think, and
he is the inspiration I, as Grand Master, need to rebuild the Order. He
sees in others things I do not see. He saw something in you, something that
told him that you will be a great man."
	Alistair's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed and he cocked his
head. "I have heard something about being a part of something called `The
Tapestry'." He shook his head, confused. "I don't know what that means."
	"It is a metaphysical thing," replied Michael. "The Phantom has
seen a Tapestry. It depicts a war between good and evil, where knights
battle dark spectres. To The Phantom the Tapestry is a living
thing. Figures, knights really, are depicted. Some fade into nothingness,
others remain strong and vibrant, while still new figures are woven into
the cloth."
	"You believe in the Tapestry?"
	"I do," replied Michael firmly. "Philip Lascelles, The Phantom, has
brought me the nucleus of the new order of knights. They are young, they
are boys, but they are determined and completely loyal to The Phantom, to
each other, and now to the Order." He shrugged. "Who am I to question,
Alistair? Better to accept and move on, to rebuild with the building blocks
Providence has provided, and let the Order rise again from the ashes of
dishonour and ignominy."
	"The Order is very special to you," said Alistair.
	"It is," confirmed Michael. "I intend to use it, and its resources,
and mine, to right an injustice. We shall not see it complete in my
lifetime, perhaps not even in yours, but I will continue the fight. So will
The Phantom, so will all those who have given him their trust, their love,
and their honour."
	"Which is why they are following him . . . and you . . . on their
crusade," replied Alistair with a shrug. He cocked his head inquiringly and
asked softly, "True?"
	"Yes," replied Michael, his voice barely audible.
	Alistair rubbed his chin reflectively. "I am intrigued by this
`Order', and the boy they call The Phantom. He seems so, how shall I put
it, diffident, but yet so at ease with himself and with those who surround
him."
	Michael nodded and looked directly at his cousin. "Do not
underestimate him. There is hardness in him, steel if you will, and he has
a will of iron when he puts his mind to it. He is also intensely loyal to
those he loves. He does not yet realize his potential, and sometimes doubts
his abilities." Michael shrugged. "In many ways he is still a boy, but more
importantly in many more ways he is a man. He has charisma, he knows how to
lead, and he is determined that his crusade, and what is to follow, will go
on. From the day we first met I knew that he would be the future of the
Order. I did not make him the Prince of the Order on a whim!"
	Alistair considered the men around Michael and nodded. That they
were all white, except for Patrick Tsang, did not faze the young Chinese in
the least. He considered the character of the men, especially Pete
Sheppard's. Michael obviously saw something in the men he had chosen to
guard him, to follow him, with insight and great care and Alistair wondered
if he would ever have that insight. But, that was not important now. It was
apparent that Michael believed every word of what he had said and Alistair
wondered if he was now, or ever would be, a part of this `Order'.
	"Michael, I am gay," Alistair said. "You can argue that I am only
going through a phase, or that my feelings for Pete are just an infatuation
a boy sometimes has for an older man." He rose from his chair and carefully
placed his hand in Michael's. "Please, I know who I am, I know what I
am. Believe me, cousin, please."
	"I do."
	"Will I be a part of the Tapestry?"
	"I do not know," answered Michael truthfully. He saw a disappointed
look cross Alistair's face and continued, "I only know that The Phantom
first suggested that there was greatness in you, and that you would be my
heir. He did not say that you would be a part of his Tapestry. Only he
knows, and only he can tell you. I cannot."
	"Are you a part of the Tapestry?"
	"I am, or so I have been told," replied Michael.
	"This crusade, am I a part of it?"
	"If you wish to be," said Michael. "The Order never demands, it
requests, and should you decide to be a part of the crusade you, and you
alone, must make that decision."
	Michael squeezed his cousin's hand. "Alistair, even as we speak,
certain measures are being taken against knights of the Order who have
betrayed their vow. They swore on Holy Relics to never harm one of their
own, yet they have not only done that, they have also trafficked in
innocent boys."
	Alistair gasped. "The Twins called them the `Lost Boys'."
	"So they are. They come from Europe for the most part, and have
been bought and sold to satisfy the sexual perversions of their
buyers. When I first discovered the trade, and the fact that knights were
involved, I called a Bar of Justice. The crusade has started already. In
Montreal and Toronto the Order has rescued many boys. Soon, in the western
cities, and here and Victoria, we will do the same. The men involved, the
knights, will be punished for their crimes."
	"The punishment?" queried Alistair carefully. He had a fairly good
idea what the punishment would be. He had seen Michael's wrath!
	"They will appear before the Bar of Justice and when found guilty,
for the evidence against them is overwhelming, they shall suffer death by
hanging."
	"Pete knows this, and his men?" asked Alistair. From his limited
perspective in his perch in the first floor bedroom of the Jade Doll,
Alistair had noticed that none of the men Michael had used against Minh had
been white. He was still unaware that many of Pete's men had been used in
the surrounding streets to take down Minh's assassins.
	Michael heard the hidden meaning in Alistair's words and said,
"Pete knows. He has been invaluable in the planning of tonight's phase of
the crusade. He has planned well, and those involved know." He regarded
Alistair. "Minh was business, and Pete and his men are not a part of my
business. I used my Chinese people, and the Tsangs to settle with him. As
for the men of the Security Force, the crusade is personal, and the Order's
business, so I am using them. As trained soldiers they needed to know what
they are being asked to do, and why."
	"They know about the boys, then."
	"Yes, and that the men they will take into custody this morning
were actively involved in the buying and selling of the boys." Michael
shrugged. "The men have eyes, and ears, and it would serve no purpose to
lie to them. They would know eventually anyway." He then gave Alistair a
sly look. "I admit to an ulterior motive as well."
	"To see how far they trust you, and how far you can trust them,"
Alistair said promptly. He returned Michael's sly look. "I also suspect to
possibly recruit new members to the Order?" He paused, and then finished,
"As you are doing now?"
	Michael was not surprised at Alistair's astuteness. The young man
was no fool! "Of course," he replied blithely. "The Order needs knights and
where else will I find them?"
	Alistair nodded his head. Then he offered, "But you will not
recruit them right away. You will wait until the anger has dissipated. You
will wait until you see how they react to what they see, and hear."
	"Yes. Some would `strike while the iron is hot', as the saying
goes, but the Rule of the Order compels me to wait. I will offer
knighthoods, and companionships, but only to those who want them. They must
decide only after calm reflection, and not out of hot anger."
	"The man called `the Maestro' and his cook, Ginger? The medics?"
	"The Maestro and Ginger know about the Order and have known for
quite some time by an accident of fate. They catered a function for the old
Grand Master and saw what was going on," replied Michael. "The medics and
the men I have sent to watch know as well." He turned and looked out of the
windows. The moon was starting to rise and the gardens were patterns of
pale light and darkness. "Sometimes men must see the truth before they
believe it."
	"Thereby increasing their will to never to allow such a thing to
happen again," opined Alistair.
	"Yes."
	Alistair had another thought. "The penalty for . . . these
creatures, these paedophiles is death?" he asked.
	"`Death by hanging," returned Michael.
	"All of them?"
	Michael shook his head. "Only those who are knights and who
violated their oaths. As for the others, when I am finished with them they
will wish themselves dead!"
	The grimness in Michael's voice gave Alistair pause. He suspected
that Michael had a plan for the destruction of the non-knights. Alistair
had no doubt that the men would be "destroyed" and after seeing what the
Serenity had done to Minh and his men . . . He would know in time just what
Michael had in mind.
	"Will your security force be the executioners?" Alistair asked. He
knew what Michael expected of these men, and wanted to know just how far
Michael would lead them.
	Michael shook his head. "They are not knights and as such cannot
participate in a Bar of Justice," he said.
	"But there will be executioners." Alistair's voice was flat. He had
a very good idea who would be the hangmen: Tsangs. They were intensely
loyal, to the point of abject subservience, really, and never questioned
what was asked of them.
	"There are always executioners, Alistair," said Michael obliquely.
	Wisely, Alistair did not pursue the subject. "So, am I to go? Will
I join the crusade?"
	Michael nodded slowly. "You will, if you wish it. I have said
that. If you go, you will only observe. The Order is my interest, not
yours. You will inherit my business interests, but not my personal
interests."
	Alistair smiled weakly. "Unless I wish it?"
	Again Michael nodded.
	Releasing Michael's hand, Alistair pointed with his chin toward the
door. "I wish to follow you, Serenity, and your Prince of the Order."