This sounded familiar. "Thad," I said, "I hope you can meet my cohort, lover and helpmeet Timothy Callahan. Your theology and his are similar. You two would hit it off. My own moral philosophy is somewhat more… English, you might say. Middle Eastern, even."

"I see."

"But if you sympathize even a little with the neo-FFF, as I do, just a tiny bit, you might be interested in a short-term project that just occurred to me."

He perked up again. "What's that?"

"You help me locate Leo Moyle and rescue him."

"Oh, I don't know."

"And if we could get to Moyle before the cops do, we could do the rescue in the name of the old FFF-redeeming your group's good name-and maybe even keep the neo-FFFers from going to Leavenworth. Unless we decided they deserved a lengthy incarceration, of course. Which they might."

"Hmm. Oh boy. Hmm."

"The other reason not to mention to Lyle Barner that we're working on this together is that he's gay and he is sexually jealous. He can't help it. It's something between him and me that goes way back. There's a history. It would drive him crazy if he brought me into this for his own not-entirely-healthy personal reasons and then I worked closely with you instead. But I think you can be more useful in the rescue than Lyle can, even if it turns out there is no connection between the old and new FFF, as you believe-but which, by the way, I'm not so sure of. It sounds as if your group had some people in it capable of considerable middle-age mischief."

Diefendorfer peered at me for a long moment, and then said, "Is this some kind of setup?"

"No, I'm not that clever, or Machiavellian."

"Well, I don't know about that."

"So, what do you say? How about one last heist?"

"But I have other responsibilities. To a number of people, and to thirty-five acres of eggplants, squash and beans."

"I guess that's true," I said. "I'm overlooking the obvious. Farmers don't have extra time on their hands for living out the adventure fantasies of the middle-aged."

Diefendorfer suddenly brightened. "But I suppose I could hire someone to do my deliveries for two or three days," he said. "There's a Princeton grad student who likes an occasional break from his dissertation research. He's worked for us before on short notice. Maybe I'll check and see if I can be freed up for a couple of days. It's possible, if we hurry this up."

"That's exactly the way the J-Bird and his people-and especially Leo Moyle, I'm sure-want us to work. Fast."

Diefendorfer smiled and said, "Would you look at that?" He showed me his goose-bumped right arm, and the hand at the end of it was trembling just perceptibly.

Chapter 8

"You and Thad have got something going," Barner said, as soon as Diefendorfer got up and went to the coffee-shop men's room. "I've got a sixth sense for these things.

It's obvious to me that the two of you are way hot to trot. The sexual undercurrents at this table all during lunch were totally amazing, and I was definitely not included in the orgy. You planning on scoring a little Amish booty, Strachey? So, what's with you and the Irish kid back in Albany? It's an open relationship, or you just go ahead and fool around on the side, or what? Farmer Thad doesn't seem all that married, either, what with the looks being passed back and forth at this table for the past twenty-five minutes. It was really quite a sight to behold. I have to admit, I'm completely turned on by it."

Barner had arrived for lunch, sweating and checking his watch, half an hour earlier. He had informed us that a note signed by the FFF had been delivered to the radio station via bicycle messenger. Typed on a word processor, the note said Leo Moyle was alive and safe, and he would be freed at an unspecified later date, following his stay at an FFF "reeducation farm." No mention of a ransom was made, nor any release through negotiations.

Police investigators had quickly checked the messenger agency, whose dispatcher informed them that the note had been sent by a man in a New York police officer's uniform, and the delivery was paid for in cash. The dispatcher added that he suspected the sender was not a real cop, for instead of an engraving of the New York City seal on his badge, it had a picture of Cher.

Since no negotiations with the kidnappers seemed possible at this point, the police decided-with the concurrence of the J-Bird and of Leo Moyle's nearest relative, a brother in Boston-to announce that Moyle had been abducted and to ask the public for information that could help the investigation. It was also announced that the kidnappers had identified themselves as the Forces of Free Faggotry, "a radical gay organization" that had been harassing Jay Plankton for the past month and a half.

I said to Barner-whose sixth sense, like most people's, was being influenced less by the electromagnetic forces entering his brain than by the electrochemical forces already inside it-"You're reading something into the pleasant, if rushed, luncheon that you and I and Thad just enjoyed that wasn't there, Lyle. I do find Thad appealing. It's true, there's something pleasing to me about a nice-looking, fair-haired, sunburned man who smells vaguely of eggplant and who grew up in a household lacking a Krups latte-maker. Thad represents a combination of innocence and worldliness that I find attractive in a man. But is there anything consciously sexual going on between us-anything as significant as 'looks being passed back and forth,' as you put it? No, Lyle, there isn't. Your intuitive powers have failed you, I'm afraid."

Since Barner had in fact picked up something genuine between Diefendorfer and me, this haughty lecture was unfair. But Barner would not-could not-have approved of Diefendorfer's and my extralegal, borderline-rogue operation to rescue Leo Moyle and reclaim the FFF's righteousness. So he was going to have to remain in the dark temporarily. Tactically, letting Barner believe that Diefendorfer and I were

"way hot to trot" would have had its diversionary advantages. But it would also have left Barner in a state of agitated sexual jealousy at a time when he had work to concentrate on. He might even have gone to Jay Plankton in a snit and had me canned.

Barner said to me, "Either you're lying-an excellent possibility with you, Strachey-or Diefendorfer is coming on to you and you're too thick to see what's happening."

"I don't think so," I said confusingly, just as Diefendorfer returned from the men's room and sat down in our booth next to me.

"So, Thad," Barner said. "Are you heading back over to Jersey now?"

"Yeah, I gotta get the truck back."

"Well, thanks for your help." Diefendorfer had phoned his partner Isaac and come up with a list of some of the former FFFers' last known addresses and phone numbers. I was given a copy of the list too and had promised Barner I'd check out the East Coast people on it, and pass on to him the names of possible suspects in either the harassment, kidnapping or both.

"I'm glad to do what I can," Diefendorfer told Barner. "But I doubt any of the old movement people would kidnap anybody who didn't want to be kidnapped. I've given you the names with the hope and expectation that all of these people will be cleared of any involvement in violent anti-J-Bird activities."

"People can change," Barner said. "And sometimes people you think you can trust can't be trusted at all, it turns out." He looked at Diefendorfer, then at me, then back at Diefendorfer, who looked at Barner, then at me, then back at Barner.