Thursday, April 9

Lenny walked into the 87th Street Precinct.

He strode past the usual ugly glares and catcalls with a smile.

When he arrived at his destination, Lenny said, "Take that pencil out of your mouth."

Lieutenant Max Bernstein looked up.

"Hi, Len."

"Ready to go visit Sara and Sam?"

"Let me just finish this up."

"What is it?"

"Paperwork. That's all I do now."

"Hang in there," "Lenny said.

"Someone has to blaze the trail."

Max began to fiddle with his new mustache.

"I never thought of myself as much of a trailblazer."

"Sometimes greatness is thrust upon you."

"No one talks to me anymore," Max said.

"All I get is shit detail."

"Being a leader is a lonely business."

"It's not funny, Len."

"Do you wish you never said anything?"

Max remembered the news conference seven months ago.

Newspaper and television reporters from all over the globe were there to cover the capture of the Gay Slasher and the revelation that SRI was a hoax. On that day Max had not planned on saying anything except the usual "this was a team effort" bullshit. His mouth, however, had other ideas.

A reporter had asked, "How does it feel to be a hero, Lieutenant?"

"I'm just glad the case is over."

"Do you realize that you're an idol? Parents consider you a role model for their children."

"I doubt that."

"Don't be so modest, Lieutenant. Do you think this case is an example of how far the gay community will go to deceive the American public?"

"I don't understand your question."

"Do you think this was a plot by a subversive gay group to get more money for AIDS?"

"There is no doubt that Dr. Riker acted on his own," Max said.

And then he added, "Furthermore, since I am your hero of the week, I will tell you that it just so happens that I myself am..." and that was when he spilled it.

"Well?" Lenny said.

"Are you sorry about coming out of the closet?"

Max shrugged.

"I don't know."

"You've done a lot of good."

"My career is in the toilet." Lenny smiled.

"You take the good with the bad. Give it time."

"Have any other comforting cliches?"

"No. Just remember that legally the police department can't do a damn thing to you."

"Except assign me shit detail. I should have gotten a shot at that Masquerade Killer, but they put someone else on it. I only get the minor fag cases because, as the captain puts it, that's my 'field of expertise'."

"He's a homophobic Neanderthal," Lenny said.

"Want to go into his office and make out in front of him?"

Max chuckled.

"I think not."

"Don't worry. They'll start accepting you soon. Trust me.

Progress comes slowly."

Max took the pencil out of his mouth.

"Doubt it."

"Hey, Twitch."

Max spun toward Willie Monticelli. He had not seen the sergeant since the day he had made himself a national gay celebrity seven months ago.

"Hi, Willie. Long time, no see."

Willie hesitated.

"Who's this? Your boyfriend or something?"

"Lenny, this is Sergeant Willie Monticelli. Willie, this is Lenny Werner."

"I've heard a lot about you, Sergeant."

Snickers from nearby cops.

"What sort of things?" Willie asked suspiciously.

"That you are a good cop," Lenny replied.

Willie shrugged.

"I do my job."

"What can I do for you, Willie?" Max asked.

A voice from the corner: "Careful how you answer that, Willie.

Might get more than you bargain for."

"Shut the hell up, Owens," Willie shouted back.

Max's fingers plucked nervously at his shirt.

"What's up?"

"Got me," Willie replied.

"I was assigned to assist you on this Masquerade Killer. Seems the mayor was not happy about the results Owens and his buddies were getting. Wants to offer us a chance at it."

"You're kidding."

"Look, Twitch, let me put it on the line." Willie hitched up his pants by the belt.

"I'm no fag lover, I gotta be honest. But I've seen a lot of cops in my day. Some are straight, some like to do it with whores in the basement, and yeah, some are fairies.

So you like fondling balls instead of tits as long as they ain't mine, I don't give a shit. I just want to solve the case, ya know?" Lenny smiled at Max.

"You see? Progress already."

"Mail call."

The prison guard tossed the envelope threw the bars.

"There you go, Doctor Loony-Tunes. A letter for you."

Harvey scrambled for the envelope. His heart lifted when he saw the return address was from Washington. His hand quickly tore the seal.

Dear Dr. Riker, Our staff at the National Institutes of Health has examined the files and evidence that you sent me.

While we appreciate hearing from anyone who might expedite our search for an AIDS vaccine, we must confess that we no longer consider you a reputable scientist.

Moreover, I must take exception to the absurd and unsubstantiated accusations you level in your confidential letter to me. I categorically deny any and all such claims of a "conspiracy," but it seems to me that the government and AIDS movement would be best served by discouraging you from making false charges. For this reason, I believe we can reach an arrangement that we will both find satisfactory.

For my part I will be delighted to update you on the NIH's progress and pass on your suggestions to the board. I will do all I can to see that you are given information on the progress of AIDS research during your incarceration.

For your part you will never again make mention of your absurd and unsubstantiated accusations. The men you mentioned in your letter and I no longer converse.

We no longer work together toward the common goal you described as "vile," and what they might do separately is of no concern to me. I have paid my debt to the man you call "pious scum" and hence will no longer be communicating with him.

Thank you for your time. It is encouraging to see that some prisoners wish to make productive use of their time while paying their debt to society.

With best wishes, I remain Sincerely, Raymond Markey, MD Assistant Secretary of Health and Human Services Harvey put down the letter, tucked it away neatly, and sat back.

That was when he spotted the back page of yesterday's New York Herald lying on the cell floor.

He had been so caught up yesterday in working out new calculations that he had not even glanced at the paper. Now he saw the gigantic back page headline.

DOUBLE VICTORY FOR SILVER MAN

Triumphs in Comeback Performance And Becomes A Dad In One Night!

Harvey read down the page.

(New York) For the first time all season, the sound of classical music could be heard in the New York Knicks' locker room. It was a sweet sound for all.

"Did you see what he did out there?" close friend and teammate Reece Porter exclaimed after the game.

"Mike is most definitely back!"

After a lengthy illness, Michael Silverman, the New York Knicks' veteran co-captain, made a triumphant return last night in front of a Madison Square Garden capacity crowd, leading the Knicks to a 123-107 trouncing of the Chicago Bulls.

"Now that we're heading into the play-offs, we really need him," said Coach Richie Crenshaw.

"He gives our team that extra lift."

"No one believed he'd make it back," added Jerome Holloway, the odds-on favorite to win this year's Rookie of the Year honors.

"But he showed them tonight."

Basketball was only part of the story for Michael Silverman last night.

Right after the game, Silverman got word that his wife, popular Newsflash co-host Sara Lowell, had gone into labor. The entire Knicks team followed Silverman to the hospital.

"We all paced around the waiting room like a group of nervous, expectant fathers," Porter later joked.

At 11:08 p. m." the suspense was over. A teary Michael Silverman came out to announce that Sara had given birth to their first child, a healthy baby boy named Sam 7 pounds, 6 ounces.

Harvey put down the paper and smiled.

It was wonderful news.

Then he went back to figuring out why the T cell receptor was not reacting the way he had predicted.

Perhaps if he changed the compound...