The Lifeguard

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are

offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go

somewhere else.

Copyright c 2001 by Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.

Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed

electronically or in any other manner without the express,

written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters

to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not

intended. They are all products of the author's imagination.

THE LIFEGUARD

Chapter 46

lg-47

Someone had mentioned that there might be a hijack attempt,

but shooting down a chopper was unbelievable.

"Did Hal have any details?" I asked, slumping into a chair.

"Just that someone found the wreckage earlier this evening."

"Let's get out of here really early in the morning," I

suggested.

"I'll call Ron," Eric volunteered. "What time do you want to

leave?"

"Let's shoot for 5:00 takeoff, that'll put us in Prescott

around 8:00 their time. Oh, ask Ron if there's enough runway

there for this plane, would you?"

While he was calling, I went to alert the boys and Jacques.

"I also called Hal to tell him what time we'd be there, he's

leaving tonight," Eric told me as he handed me a drink.

"I hope he was able to grab one of the other planes," I

muttered.

"He did."

Since there weren't any details, all we could do was

speculate, and Eric sensibly suggested that that was futile.

Everyone was up, packed, and ready to go in the morning. No

traffic that early so we made good time to the airport.

The boys commandeered the couch and were back to sleep before

takeoff. Jacques was busy in the galley. Eric and I took

forward seats to stay out of everyone's way.

I wasn't ready to wake up either, so reclined my seat and

dozed. I woke gradually, opening my eyes to see Eric

grinning at me. "Feel better, babe?" he asked.

Jacques brought me a cup of coffee, and soon served

breakfast, freshly cooked. The galley must have a great

ventilation system because I couldn't smell the cooking in

the cabin.

The boys woke up and joined us. We talked about everything

but what we were soon going to be seeing.

I thought about it, though. My thinking didn't go along the

line of hand wringing and "oh dear me". Instead, I was

thoroughly pissed. How could anybody kill a couple of

innocent men for something of questionable value? If the

local cops couldn't catch the assholes, I'd put Bob on it.

He had more manpower, resources and expertise than a lot of

big city police departments. We'd get 'em.

There was a delegation waiting on the tarmac. Hal, Loren,

and John, and Bob was already there too. All of them looked

pretty grim.

Jacques and the boys decided to stay at the airport, but Ron

and Jason wanted to see what had happened.

The crash site was several miles out of town and accessible

only with 4-wheel drive vehicles. The area was cordoned off,

and swarming with official looking people. Hal took over.

There really wasn't much to see. Debris was scattered over a

wide area, nothing big enough to be recognizable.

Two men separated from the crowd and came over to where we

were standing. Hal told them who we were, and they

introduced themselves - one was an FAA investigator and the

other was from the local Sheriff's office.

The Sheriff told us that someone had seen a fireball and men

from his office had investigated. It had taken them several

hours to find the wreckage, and by that time, all the canvas

bags were gone without a trace. What remained of the bodies

had been removed the night before. Their investigation was

underway.

The FAA guy didn't have anything concrete yet, but said that

their preliminary guess was that some sort of missile had

been used because the chopper, if flying in it's normal

pattern, would have been too high to be brought down by

conventional firearms. Their investigation would take

several days, or weeks, to pinpoint the cause.

Both of them wanted to ask all of us questions, particularly

Loren who was most familiar with the flights. Hal told them

that we'd be at the Hacienda Motel in Prescott.

After our briefing, we were invited to take a closer look.

Only Bob and the two pilots accepted.

The Hacienda was surprising, rustic but quite luxurious, and

even had suites, all of which Hal had booked for us.

Ron and Jason volunteered to go pick up Jacques and the boys

and get our luggage, and the rest of us congregated in Hal

and Bob's suite.

Bob was the first to speak up. "I spent a few hours at the

Sheriff's office last night," he said. "They did everything

they should have, in my opinion. Put up roadblocks in all

directions, but didn't see anything.

"This thing had to be very carefully planned," he continued,

"and my bet is that whoever it was is still in the area,

waiting for the heat to die down, they they'll take their

haul out piecemeal."

"If it was a missile, won't that be relatively easy to trace?"

Eric asked.

"Hell no," Bob grumbled. "You can buy 'em on the Internet."

"What can they do with the ore?" I asked the room at large.

Loren answered. "To make it marketable, they'll have to

refine it, and I don't think there's anyplace here in this

country that'd do it. My guess is that they'll head for

Mexico with it."

"Is anybody watching the border?" I asked innocently.

"Why bother," Bob said. "If they're smart, they'll keep it

in 50 pound lots, and that's easy to stash. It'd be

impossible to check every car going across the border, and

the Mexicans don't pay any attention to what's coming in."

"Then it doesn't look promising?" I commented. There were

lots of shaking heads.

"If they get away with it this time, either the same ones or

others will try it again," I commented. "How can we prevent

that from happening?"

"We can do it," Bob assured me. "It'll take some thought and

a lot of changes, but we can get it done."

The Sheriff joined us. He pretty much concurred with our

speculations. "They didn't just drive in, shoot the plane

down, then disappear," he said. "Somebody did a lot of

preliminary planning, and they had to be here to do it.

Somebody had to notice something, and we're going to find

that somebody. This is a small community and anything out of

the ordinary gets noticed."

He went on to say that it may take time, but eventually

somebody would make a mistake, or had already made one, and

they'd catch the culprits.

Hal and Loren agreed that no more ore concentrate would be

moved out until safety could be assured. Mining operations

would continue, but the ore would be stockpiled, and Bob

would supply additional security at the mine.

There wasn't a whole lot we could do, so I suggested to Eric

that we head on home. He agreed.

On Thursday and Friday, we attended funerals in Phoenix.

Joel called to see if we still wanted to go to Taiwan with

him and Aaron. Unfortunately, it was the same time as our

get-together with all the Milton Managers, so we had to beg

off.

Jeff briefed us on the meeting schedule. It would be three

days of golf and informal get-togethers at the Greenbriar in

West Virginia. With the new managers and the four of us,

there would be more than fifty, and not all were golfers.

Over Eric's protests, I volunteered to forego the golf and

give the non-golfers some attention.

Jacques was devastated when we wouldn't let him go along. We

did let up a little and agreed that he'd be our steward on

the flight.

I got along real well with the non-golfers. We met for a

later breakfast and then sat around and shot the bull while

the rest were out chasing that little white ball around.

When the golfers came in, they joined us. I noticed that the

first thing Eric did was come over and touch me. It was, I'm

sure, an unconscious move but it seemed like he was "marking

his territory", and made me feel wonderful.

On the third morning, after a night of heavy drinking, only

two of the guys showed up for breakfast. They were obviously

hungover, but were nevertheless cheerful. By now, we were

all pretty familiar with each other. We joked, teased, and

were all just pals.

They were sipping their coffee when one of them looked me

straight in the eye and asked "Is it true that you and Eric

are an 'item'?"

"This answer your question?" I asked holding up my left hand

and rubbing my ring. "Eric wears one just like it."

"I noticed," he said. "That is so neat!"

"Thank you," was all I could say.

"There's been a little speculation going on," he said.

"Nobody really gives a damn, we're just curious."

"Well, now you know," I told him, smiling.

One of the things that came out of the meetings was that many

of the managers wanted to provide an opportunity for their

production people to get together too. They were closer to

the action, and, comparing notes would certainly be

beneficial. If Metalco production people could join them, it

would be even better.

Another, and possibly the most important, had been learning

that all the Managers hated the Union they had to deal with.

It was felt that the Union was a nuisance and stifled

communications between workers and management. This was

definitely food for thought.

It seemed like we had barely gotten home when it was time to

go to Chicago to the Lundborg family reunion.

We left the day before, going first to San Francisco to pick

up Ryan, Diane, the baby and the nanny, and a ton of luggage.

Jacques took care of us and the baby was quiet the whole trip

in spite of the fact that the grandparents wouldn't leave the

poor kid alone.

That night, we "broke in" another of our hotels. No oil or

candles, but a whole lot of lube got used.

The reunion, which started at noon, was at a park in one of

the suburbs. It was a potluck-picnic sort of affair, very

informal.

When we arrived, there was already a good crowd. "Damn,

never knew I had so many relatives," Eric kidded his mother.

"All blondes, too."

"I think that's a dominant gene in the family," she answered.

When both limos were unloaded, Eric and I were at the tail

end of the procession into the throng. Karl and Ingrid were

followed by Ryan and Diane, then the Nanny, then us. Neither

of us knew a soul.

That didn't last long. We were passed around from group to

group, meeting everyone. The women were all very good

looking, and the men... well, let's just say there were more

hunks than I'd ever seen at one of our pool parties! From

pre-teen to adult, they were blond, square jawed beauties.

They had obviously been prepared for my presence. I was

introduced as Eric's "partner" and not one eyebrow was

raised.

I gravitated toward the older guys, and Eric and Ryan were

engrossed with their cousins of all ages, mostly male.

When it was time to eat, Eric pulled me aside. "Blond isn't

the only gene running through this family," he giggled with

an evil grin on his face.

"What're you talking about?" I asked.

"I'm just about dizzy from all the 'vibes' I'm getting. How

about you?"

"A few," I admitted. "I thought it was my imagination."

"I don't think so," he winked. "Let's stay cool and see what

happens. I get the impression that everybody already knows

about 'us'."

Shortly after we ate, the younger crowd organized a touch

football game. I was most definitely a spectator.

"I'm too old for that stuff," Karl said, sitting down on the

grass next to me.

I laughed and agreed.

The kids played hard, Eric among them. Of course, I had my

eyes on him most of the time. He was truly a natural

athlete. Graceful, agile and fast... and so damned sexy.

There was a lot more to look at too. Big, gorgeous blondes

ranging from, I'd guess, 16 or so, to probably their late

20's. They all had a definite family resemblance, including

Eric, with facial features that any modeling agency would

drool over. Talk about "eye candy"!

The boys played for more than an hour. Sweating profusely,

Eric dropped on the grass beside me, with the rest of his

cousins joining him.

They kidded each other about their game, then wanted to know

about life in California. "It's not this humid," Eric told

them, "and it sure as hell never snows. Think about us when

you're freezing your asses off this winter," he continued

gleefully, rubbing it in.

"We'll do better than that," his cousin Don piped up, "we'll

come see you. Got a place where we can put our sleeping

bags?"

"Hell, we've got a few spare bedrooms," Eric said. "Come on

out, we'd love to have you, you're all invited!"

"Don't be surprised to find a bunch of us on your doorstep,"

Don said.

"Anytime," Eric said seriously.

I was pleased that Eric had extended the invitation without

consulting me. He was finally considering "our" house as

truly OUR house.

When it was time to go, it was pretty clear that a lot of

bonding between Eric and his cousins had taken place. There

were a lot of hugs, several of them giving me one too, and

promises to "keep in touch".

Eric didn't say much on the way back to the hotel, seeming to

be lost in thought, but grinning at me whenever he saw me

looking at him.

"Sorry to be so quiet," he said as we went into our room.

"I've been thinking about what happened today, and didn't

think Mom and Dad were ready to learn that Dad's whole family

is queer," he giggled.

"Do you really think so?" I asked.

"I'm almost positive about most of the cousins," he said,

"and I'm not so sure about a couple of my Uncles. I'm

convinced that being 'this way' is genetic, so it makes

sense."

"Do you think any of them will actually come and visit us?"

"I'll bet on it," he answered, chuckling. "That could be VERY

interesting!"

Most everything was running smoothly, but there were two

issues that I wanted to look into. The first was what was

being done about the gold shipments and the second was the

Union situation at Milton.

Eric and I wandered over to Hal's office for an update on the

gold. Hal called Bob to join us.

"We've been too predictable," Hal said. "The flights have

been at about the same time every day, flying the same

route. Bob and I agree that that's the first thing we have

to change."

"We also need to know if there's anybody out there waiting

for us," Bob added.

"Any suggestions?" Eric asked.

"We were making several trips a day from the mine to

Prescott," Hal said, "bringing in supplies, parts and other

things, but the last trip of the day was always the ore. All

the trips were from the mine directly to Prescott and back,

following the same route.

"The armored car would arrive in mid afternoon, and that's

also a dead give-away. It wouldn't take much observation to

figure out which flight the ore would be on. That will have

to be changed. The armored car will have to be brought in

early in the day, every day, and not leave until late,

regardless of which flight the ore is on. Some days, we

won't even bring any out, other days, several loads."

"What's to keep 'them' from shooting down the wrong flight?"

I asked.

"We're coming to that," Bob said. "We've got an idea on how

to keep EVERY flight safe."

"It's going to be expensive," Hal said, "but when you

consider that we're bringing out four to five million dollars

worth of ore every day, it's not much."

"We'll need constant surveillance of the flight corridor,"

Bob said. "If we see any activity, we just won't fly,

period."

"How're you going to do that?" I asked. "That's rough

terrain and anybody could hide in those rocks."

"We'll need a second chopper, a small one, to patrol the

corridor," Bob said. "There will be visual observation and

also infrared equipment to detect heat anomalies in the

rocks."

"How does that work?" Eric asked.

"It's the same as the police use when they're following a

suspect. I'm sure you've seen it on TV. The human body

gives off heat at a different temperature than the

surrounding area, and the infrared scans pick up on that,"

Bob explained. "A little two-man chopper will do the job. A

pilot and someone to run the equipment. We'll also change

the route so the transport chopper will fly over terrain that

isn't so rocky."

"Do you think that'll work?" I asked.

"Nothing's a hundred percent sure thing," Bob said. "Both

Hal and I think that this would be the safest route to take.

We're also working with the local sheriff, and if we do spot

anyone, his men will go after them."

"When will this go into effect?" I asked.

"It should all be in place in a couple more weeks," Hal said,

"We're getting a larger transport chopper so we can carry

bigger loads, not have to make as many trips, and the smaller

one is being outfitted right now."

Eric and I discussed the Milton Union situation. He'd never

had any experience with unions, neither as a member or on the

management side. He did have strong opinions, though. He

thought they'd served their purpose, and were no longer

needed. In his opinion, they were dinosaurs trying to

survive in a world where they were no longer wanted or needed.

In the year or so that Metalco had owned Milton, control of

critical functions had been assumed by Metalco people, but

Milton was still run as a separate business for one

important reason - all Milton plants were unionized, Metalco

was not.

Over the years, some trades within Metalco had opted to be

represented by Unions, but, this had never lasted very long

because our workers soon learned that being represented by

outsiders was superfluous and ineffective. Metalco management

was responsive to problems in the workplace, and our wage

scales were universally higher than those negotiated by

Unions in similar industries and our benefits were much more

generous.

Consequently, no Metalco plant, anyplace, had experienced any

serious Union organizing activity in more than 20 years. Our

employees just weren't interested.

Milton was a different matter. Virtually all shop-floor

workers were represented by the Metal Workers Union, and had

been for at least 40 years. Wage agreements with this Union

would be up for re-negotiation in a few months, with

preliminary talks already underway. Under the Milton

brothers' management, Edward had handled all of this himself.

Personally, I didn't have much use for Unions. I agreed with

Eric, their time had come and gone. The exploitation of

workers was a thing of the past, and the Government oversaw

and audited the activities of virtually every employer.

Not only that, but enlightened employers realized the value of

getting and, more importantly, keeping good people. With the

booming economy, it was definitely a seller's market with

employers actually bidding for the services of the

diminishing supply of available, qualified people.

My main reason for disliking Unions was the fact that so many

of them really weren't interested in the welfare of those

they represented, but in the perpetuation of the institutions

themselves and the high paying positions and political power

they provided to their officials. Most had been proven to be

utterly corrupt too, which I didn't find very appealing.

Quite frankly, I hated Unions. My late father had considered

"union" the dirtiest word in the English language as a result

of some of the battles he'd fought with them.

From past experience, I knew that the only time the National

Labor Relations Board would permit a union de-certification

election was the six months prior to expiration of an

existing contract. I also knew that the effort couldn't be

initiated by management, legally. It had to be started by

the so-called "Rank and File".

The "window" of opportunity was open. Eric and I agreed that

we ought to try a little "Union busting" while we had the

chance.

I set up a meeting with Bill, Jeff and Jack to tell them what

we had in mind. Bill and Jack had been through this before,

and Jack knew every dirty trick in the book.

My decision to move forward wasn't altogether selfish. In

the short term, it would cost us more. Bringing all Milton

employees up to Metalco wage levels would be more expensive

than the levels we could probably negotiate with the Union.

But, in the long run, in my opinion, employee satisfaction

and company loyalty would offset the cost.

In fact, if the Union was as crooked and corrupt as I

understood it to be, for a nominal bribe, we could probably

get by a LOT cheaper, like the Miltons had done. But, we

don't work that way.

When I broached the subject, Bill was in full agreement, and

Jack relished the chance for a good fight. Jeff, however was

hesitant. "Our busiest season is coming up," he said, "do we

really want to make waves right now?"

"Actually, that's to our advantage," Jack told him. "The

Union won't expect it, and to call a strike before Christmas

wouldn't make any points with the workers."

"The managers made it pretty clear that they wanted to get

rid of the Union," Bill observed. "If we don't move now,

it'll be another three years before we can do anything."

We discussed strategy. Since the movement to oust the Union

had to be started by Union members, it was up to individual

managers to plant the seeds among people who would

cooperate. They, in turn, would start the petition process,

getting their fellow workers to sign. Neither the managers

nor other management people could openly support the

movement, but we could help in other ways such as providing

positive information to them on the advantages enjoyed by the

non-union employees of Metalco, and derogutory information

about the Union itself.

So far, Eric and I were the only ones who knew about the

surveillance that had been in place for months on Tony

Rizullo and the Miltons, and we had decided to keep it to

ourselves until later.

Jeff was given the job of contacting all the managers and

getting their cooperation. All of this was to be verbal. No

E-mails, nothing in writing that could be used against us

later.

The Union itself was in a highly vulnerable position. They

were small, independent, and not affiliated with any of the

big organizations. The AFL-CIO considered them renegades and

too crooked to join them, so they were on their own, and

didn't have the organization to fight a major battle like we

planned. But, since Milton employees represented a third of

their total membership, they'd no doubt try to put up a fight.

If decertification efforts got started at all of our 47

plants at the same time, the Union just wouldn't have the

manpower to fight on all those fronts. That's what we'd try

to do, hit them all at once.

Jeff left to start making calls. Jack was grinning. "This

ought to be fun," he said. "I wonder how dirty they'll get?"

"We've been through this before," I chuckled.

"I know, OUR one vulnerable spot is you guys," he said

nodding toward Eric and me. "They will probably try to go

after you personally, so be careful."

The ball was rolling and there wasn't much for Eric and I to

do except watch - until the petitions started circulating and

the Union reacted.

It was time for the annual "Critters" party at the San Diego

Zoo, a benefit for CRES (Center for the Reproduction of

Endangered Species), my pet charity. Every year, I was one

of the main sponsors of the event but used the name of one of

our Appliance brands instead of mine. It was always a fun

evening, starting with wine tasting put on by all of Southern

California's wineries, then all the restaurants in town had

booths where they dished out their specialties of the house.

This all took place right at the Zoo.

When I told Eric about it, he was eager to go. "Let's take a

couple of days," he suggested. "We can take a look at the

CLP property and just 'play' for a day or two."

That sounded good to me. We also had a hotel or two to check

out.

We left on Wednesday afternoon, driving Eric's Mercedes with

the top down. As usual, I had my hand on his thigh and when

we passed trucks who could look down and see, we got quite a

few toots of their horns and a big thumbs up. A few people

driving those damned SUV's noticed us too. Some gave us the

thumbs up, others glared. I blew kisses at the glarers, male

or female, and that really pissed them off.

We spent all day Thursday at the Zoo. It was Eric's first

time there and he wanted to see everything, particularly the

Giant Pandas. I'd been there many times before, but it was

so much fun to be with someone who was so enthusiastic. He

truly was a "Nature Boy".

The zoo's botanical collection rivaled the animal exhibits,

and we took time to "smell the roses".

Friday, we drove up to the Wild Animal Park north of the

city. This is where the breeding programs for endangered

species were carried out. I'd made arrangements for us to see

the "behind the scenes" activities, so we got to see a lot

that isn't open to the general public. As always, it was

fascinating to me, and Eric didn't miss a thing.

The Benefit event itself was informal. The objective was to

try to sample the food from every booth, and get thoroughly

stuffed in the process. During the wine tasting, we ran into

a group of zoo and CRES officials who I knew. I introduced

Eric and told them that they'd better go after him during

their next fund-raising drive.

The food was unbelievable. I think every ethnic cuisine

known to man was represented. All you got was a "taste" at

each booth unless you were greedy like I was, going back for

more of the unusual stuff.

Before hitting the dessert section, we took a walk. Most of

the walkways were dimly lighted, and some of the nocturnal

animals were out doing their thing. Not many other people

were wandering, so we strolled with our arms around each

other. Here we were, in the middle of the city with wild

animals all around us, no doubt watching. It was eerily

calm, somehow emphasizing the closeness I felt to the man

brushing along my side. I leaned my head onto his shoulder.

"Just us and the animals," I sighed contentedly.

We stopped, kissed lovingly, and continued. "I just like

being with you," Eric said softly. "When we're together like

this, nothing else matters."

Evidently that was the case with both of us because we were

halfway home when we realized that we'd forgotten to look at

the waterfront property.

Petitions had been circulating on shop floors in all Milton

plants for a couple of weeks. The only reaction from the

Union had been an abrupt end to contract negotiations that

had started earlier. The Union just canceled all further

meetings.

The first sign of trouble was in New Jersey, not

surprisingly. The trucks that normally hauled our product to

customers failed to show up. Our two plants in New Jersey

required a total of sixty trucks per day, only four showed up

at one plant and none at the other.

This was clearly a secondary boycott, highly illegal. The

trucking companies that we worked with used "Equipment

shortage" as an excuse. Jack, however, was ready, and filed

for an injunction immediately. It was granted, and trucks

started showing up again, but in much smaller numbers than we

needed.

This action spread to other plants in the Northeast,

including Metalco facilities. It spread like a brushfire and

kept Jack and his crew busy in several states.

Jeff and Mike reported that our warehouses would be bulging

in less than two weeks and we'd have to curtail production.

To this, Eric had a suggestion. "How about getting a bunch

of those inflatable buildings? I understand you can put them

up in a few days."

"Good idea," Mike said. "We've used them before."

"We can prioritize shipments," Jeff said. "Most of our stuff

is just going to another warehouse to be held for Christmas

anyway. I'm pretty sure our customers will work with us."

That would defuse the current problem, and give us time to

put pressure on the trucking companies through the courts.

It was time to look over the surveillance reports that Bob

had been collecting. Eric and I picked them up and spent

the weekend going over them.

There wasn't much "meat" in them until we got to the ones

covering the last few weeks. There was, however, a lot of

interesting background information that might come in handy

if things got really nasty.

Tony Rizullo's office, car and phone were all bugged, and we

learned a lot about how the Union operated. The Union

President was a figurehead, Tony actually ran the Union. He

wasn't what you'd call an upstanding citizen, either, closely

linked to the mob and involved in all sorts of criminal

dealings. He was also real chummy with Edward Milton.

Sunday morning, I asked Bob to come over to the house. He

wasn't surprised, and had anticipated my first request.

"I've already passed the word to beef up surveillance on

Marzullo, and to get the reports back to me the next day if

possible," he said, grinning. "He's a nasty SOB, and we need

to know what he's up to."

"You've read the reports yourself?" I asked.

"I've scanned most of them," he answered. "I've been looking

for any references to you or Milton or Metalco. Not much

until the last few weeks."

"We're interested in seeing transcripts of some of those

recent conversations," I told him. "Maybe we'd better have

full transcripts on everything from now on."

He was taking notes, and made a list of the conversations

that Eric and I had marked. "You'll want to keep these

originals," he said. "This is all I'll need to get full

details for you. Does anybody else know about these?"

"Not yet," I told him. "Jack's on his way over and we intend

to show them to him, but not tell him where we got them."

"Jack's OK," Bob said, grinning. "He and I've worked

together for a lot of years, and he doesn't mind 'bending'

the rules if it's in the Company's best interest."

"I'm still not going to tell him that you're involved," I

said.

"That's fine with me. I'll put the daily reports in your car

like I did before, if that's OK." I nodded.

Jack was chuckling when I finished telling him that we'd had

the Miltons and Tony Rizullo under surveillance for the last

several months.

"Dave, nothing you do surprises me," he laughed. "What made

you start doing it?"

"We heard a rumor that the Miltons may try something, and

then when we saw old Edward getting palsy-walsy with Rizullo,

we had him covered too," I said.

"I'm not going to ask how you're getting this stuff.

Afterall, I'm an officer of the Court, and I couldn't

possibly get involved in something like this," he said, then

busted out laughing. "Every advantage helps," he winked at

us.

"We've already requested full transcripts of some of the

recent conversations. They're marked, and if you want any

others, let me know. Reports will be coming in daily, and

I'll pass them on to you. They'll be complete, too, not just

references, but verbatim."

"I won't know what we've got until I read these," he said.

"Dale's working with me on this Union thing, and with your

permission, I'll ask him to read them too...at home. This

stuff isn't going anywhere near the office."

Bob reported that everything was set up for daily reports.

They'd be e-mailed to an untraceable address, then printed.

The transcripts we'd requested would be in my car by the time

we went home.

In the afternoon, Jack called to request an evening meeting

with us. He would be bringing Dale. I suggested that they

come to our house for dinner.

After they arrived, Jack and Dale scanned the reports that

had come in that day. Eric had read them but I hadn't.

"That Rizullo is pure slime," Dale commented. "There's

enough in those reports to put him away for the rest of his

natural life. The Miltons, too."

"Don't get indignant," Jack chuckled. "We'll worry about

them later. We need them now so we'll know what to expect."

"Well, did you find anything useful?" I asked.

"Since the reports we've seen aren't very current, we don't

have any idea what they're planning to do next. Hopefully,

with daily reports, we'll know more in the next few days.

There is, however, a lot of blackmail material. That's what

we wanted to talk to you guys about.

"What's your point?" Eric asked.

"So far, the fight's been relatively clean," Jack told us.

"Just the usual crap - the truckers, and attempted

intimidation of the membership. That's to be expected, and

we can deal with it.

"It hasn't degenerated to a personal level yet, and I hope it

doesn't, and for that reason, I don't think we should start

it.

"They all know that you, Dave, are behind this 'Union

busting' effort, or at least have given your approval. They

also know that you can stop it. The last thing that I want

to see happen is for either you or Eric to get hurt

personally.

"We already have the advantage, or soon will, by knowing

their next moves. We can counter those, and, I believe, win

this thing without resorting to too many dirty tricks. I

suggest we keep it 'clean' as long as we can."

"What could they do to us?" Eric asked.

"I don't think they'd try anything physical," Dale said, "but

with Tony's mob connections, that can't be ruled out either."

"Bob's increasing your security, but the ones I'm most

concerned about are the rest of the family - Annie and Tina,

and your parents, Eric," Jack added.

"Sounds like it's time for the Lake House again," Eric

chuckled.

"Let's not panic, for chrissakes!" I roared. "Aren't we

blowing this whole thing out of proportion?"

"Not according to Bob," Jack said. "He's really nervous.

Get him over here and he'll tell you so himself."

"I believe you," I said. "Let's keep our shirts on and see

what happens."

"I certainly didn't expect anything like this!" Eric said

when we were alone.

"They're all being overprotective," was my opinion. "But, I

think you ought to talk to your Mom and Dad."

"I will, but they'll laugh at me."

"I'm going to talk to the girls in the morning," I told him.

Jeff gave us daily reports. At one plant in Ohio more than

50% of the workers had signed decertification petitions,

enough to call for an election, and had filed with the NLRB

to hold one.

At other plants, workers in favor of the Union were causing

disruption and threatening their fellow workers who wanted to

get rid of the Union.

By now, the papers had picked up on the story, and when a

small bomb went off in the trash dumpster of a Metalco plant,

it became a major event.

Bob literally begged us to get out of town, someplace where

he could give us the protection he felt we needed. His

argument was that the Union stood to lose $30 million a year

in dues if Milton pulled out, and that they'd do just about

anything to hang onto it. Most of it was finding it's way

into Tony's pocket, and if he lived up to his reputation,

he'd kill for a helluva lot less.

I still felt that this whole thing was ridiculous. With all

the publicity, the Union, or their buddies, wouldn't dare try

anything. The intelligence we were getting kept Jack one

step ahead of every move the Union made, and we were winning.

Nevertheless, I wanted to be prepared for any eventuality, so

I formulated "Plan B" just in case.

A few days later, my whole attitude changed. I was opening

my mail, a large envelope to be exact. When I pulled out the

contents, there was a snap like a mouse trap makes. Some

sort of device was glued to a piece of cardboard, and below

it was handwritten "BANG, you're dead".

I called Bob immediately, and he must have sprinted to my

office. "It could have been a letter bomb," he pronounced.

"Will you take me seriously now?"

As he was examining the thing, Eric walked in. "Looky what I

got in the mail," he said, holding up a video cassette.

I've never seen a human being move so fast. Bob grabbed the

cassette from Eric's hand and was out the door in a flash.

"What's with him?" Eric asked as Bob flew by.

"He's MORE than nervous," I answered.

"Here's the note that came with it," Eric said, handing me a

folded sheet of paper.

"Back off or this will be on the net and in every newspaper,"

was neatly printed on it.

"Here's something I got in the mail too," I said, handing him

the fake letter bomb. "That's why Bob's so nervous. Have you

seen what's on that video?" I asked.

"Not yet. I hope Bob doesn't destroy it."

"It's only a video tape," Bob said when he came back a half

hour later. "We took it apart and there's nothing in it."

"This came with it," Eric said, handing Bob the letter.

"Let's have a look at the tape," I said, getting up. I had a

VCR and big TV in a cabinet behind my desk.

I popped the cassette in and hit 'play' on the remote. The

three of us were staring at the screen. As the picture came

on, I recognized the sofa in the den in the New York

apartment. I knew what would be next, so I hit the 'stop'

button and turned to Bob.

"If this is what I think it is, maybe you'd better look the

other way," I told him.

Eric hadn't caught on yet, but when I restarted the tape, his

first comment was "Oh shit!"

The tape ran about fifteen minutes. It was good quality,

sharp focus --- of Eric and me trading blow jobs. There was

no sound, but it was clear what was taking place.

"Well?" Bob asked. "Can I turn around now?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Eric said sheepishly, collapsing into a

chair.

"What was it?" Bob asked.

"A home video," I told him, "of Eric and me. Rather explicit

and damned embarassing if it got out."

"I'll need details," he said, taking over.

"It's a video I made at the New York apartment several months

ago," Eric said. "It shows Dave and me making love."

"Is it clear? I mean, is it in focus?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Eric answered.

"Are there others?"

Eric thought a minute. "No, that's the only one in New York."

"Are there others anyplace else?"

"We have a few here," he answered.

"Lock them up, now!" Bob advised, then gazed out the window,

thinking.

"I'm willing to bet that this tape was taken sometime since

the Union thing started," he said. "Who's had access to the

apartment since then?"

Eric looked at me for confirmation. "None of us have been

there since then, just the cleaning service."

"We can check that out easily enough," he said. "I'll have

somebody on it right away. We'll find out who took it, but

that's not really going to help us. By now there's probably

fifty copies floating around."

"Understand one thing, Bob," Eric said, looking him straight

in the eye. "I don't know how Dave feels, but I'm not the

least bit ashamed of what's on that tape. I'm just sorry

that I made it and didn't keep it locked up."

Bob walked over and put his hand on Eric's shoulder,

smiling. "I have to admit something, Eric," he said. "For a

long time after you came on the scene, I didn't like you or

trust you. I thought you were an opportunist, and yes, a

gold digger. As you've noticed, I'm pretty protective of

Dave here, and I didn't want to see him get hurt. You've

proven to me that I was wrong. I've grown to like you and

you've earned my respect.

"We'll do the best we can to protect both of you," he

continued. "Let me get my men together and we'll see what we

can come up with."

"I think we'd better let Jack, Jeff and Bill in on these

developments," I said. "Let's all get together this

afternoon."

"A council of War," Bob chuckled, "I'll be here."

"I feel like such a fool," Eric said.

To be continued.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I appreciate hearing your comments on the

story, my writing, and anything you would like to offer -

good or not so good. Send me a message at

orrinrush@yahoo.com