“In his words, ‘the power of the press and so on and so on’...blah blah.”
Neil cautioned, “Be careful, Andrew, he could be a formidable enemy. That goes for Mrs. Thayer as well even though she thinks of him as a friend. I believe I should give her a call. Can you arrange to have her at the Seamen’s Center on Sunday afternoon for a call at 2:00 PM your time?”
Andrew was puzzled. “Why the Seamen’s Center?”
“Because yours and her phones may not be secure,” he answered.
“You’re kidding!”
“No, Andrew, I’m sorry. I don’t kid about such things. Not only your phones, but your homes could be bugged also. For the time being, let’s not take any chances. Give your friend Savalza a ‘heads up’ on this. If he checks it out and finds something, tell him to leave everything as is. We don’t want it known we are onto them yet.”
“Are you coming back?” Andrew was suddenly eager to have some reinforcements.
“George’s funeral will be on Wednesday– perhaps after that. Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly, “Just be careful. There are some things developing here. Let me know about the Sunday call to the Center. Take care.”
“I will and you too,” Andrew told him.
Andrew placed a call to Jim Savalza and was told he was out until late afternoon. His curiosity about Coleman was rising, he pondered the reason he came to Seattle.
“I’ll do a little investigative work starting at the Olympic...maybe I’ll find a talkative desk clerk and ask some questions,” he said to no one in particular while pulling on his coat. “Or maybe I’ll just ask a few questions of the General himself.”
✽✽✽
Neil had just concluded his conversation with Andrew when there was a knock on the door. His colleague, CIA Agent, Fred Wellman, stuck his head in.
“Do you have some time?” Wellman asked. “There’s something in Aunt Martha’s luggage you should see,” he said scratching his head as he led Neil toward the code room.
Over a period of years Fred Wellman and Neil Klein had developed a rapport that happened as the result of Neil finding himself at odds with the higher echelons in the State Department over the disposition of the POW/MIA question as it pertained to the proposed and final peace negotiations.
Fred Wellman had been the key CIA contact regarding the Chernakov defection. He had worked closely with Klein when word came through Kelshaw of the failure to rescue Paul Thayer and Pyotr Chernakov.
Because of the loss of CIA personnel missing from Site 85, Wellman’s office was also frustrated with governmental policy in delving deeper into the matter of prisoners captured in Laos. Wellman and Klein’s mutual tie became George Kelshaw.
Fred Wellman was a Montanan. Born in Butte in 1930 of Welsh parentage, he had grown up around hardy men and women whose lives held little luxury. His father had been an assayer for the Anaconda Copper Company. When the company ran into hard times in the late twenties and thirties, his father took the family savings and bought a small ranch in a valley outside of Butte near a town known as Whitehall. The ranch was never as successful as some of the larger spreads, but raising and selling beef cattle supplied the wherewithal for Fred to become college educated. He spent two years at the School of Mines in Butte and later on went to Missoula and the University of Montana where he graduated with honors.
He had a keen analytical mind and at one time had leaned toward a career in teaching in the mining industry specifically. But airplanes and flying had owned Fred since he was a youngster. Getting his pilot’s license at 17 only delayed his long time passion. With college behind him and after passing a rigorous physical for the United States Navy he was sent to Pensacola, Florida for flight training where he would embark on a career as a Naval Aviator.
During his time in the Navy he learned to fly everything from fixed wing to jets and helicopters. Later as a Lieutenant Commander he was assigned to Naval Intelligence and recruited by the CIA.
In 1965 while doing air reconnaissance over Laos, his plane was shot down and he bailed out over the Plain of Jars. Fortunately, Fred was quickly rescued by a Hmong General who would later become a key figure in the CIA’s mission in Laos.
By the time he returned to Saigon, he was well acquainted and convinced of the ‘Domino Theory’ and its implications for Southeast Asia.
Now at 50 he kept his medium build in shape. His dark hair was sprinkled with gray at the temples and his blue-gray eyes looked out through horn-rimmed glasses giving him a bookish appearance. He had quietly risen in the CIA because of his meticulous attention to detail. Decisions were made only after he had examined the facts thoroughly and learning all he could about a situation.
The Agency had relied heavily on Wellman’s analytical talent and intuition for second-guessing the Soviet and Chinese aspirations in Southeast Asia.
Inside the code room Wellman removed his coat and loosened his tie as he strode toward a partially glass-enclosed office where two technicians were busily punching data into computers. He shut the door and turning to Neil spoke cautiously, “We’ve matched a number of names that were listed as MIAs with names in the packet that are identified as POWs being held when Kelshaw acquired this information.
“It’s clear in looking at some of the names that the information must have come from Chernakov. It also coincides with the rumors of Americans being moved into China and into Soviet bloc countries. First analyses of the names indicate they were mostly pilots, technicians and some of our people,” Wellman said flatly, our, meaning intelligence personnel.
“There’s also a list of names of Americans that Chernakov interviewed in a prison camp in Kwangsi, China. They were to be moved out, but we’re unsure what the destination might have been.”
Neil shook his head as he looked over the list of names. “Too bad we didn’t have the opportunity to interview Chernakov; as it is he managed to provide us with some very important information. Five of these names were our guys from Site 85.”
“Do you think anyone is still alive?” asked one of the computer techs.
“Who knows...it would depend on who has them, if they were injured and what kind of treatment they got or are getting. From some of the information on interrogation techniques we received preliminarily from Chernakov, it might be better if they weren’t alive now,” Wellman responded.
“What else do you have for me?” Neil asked somberly.
“Some coded information that we’re working on that probably came originally from the Soviets, and,” Wellman drew a sharp breath and with a puzzled look, said cautiously, “This piece is where it gets peculiar. It’s obvious that it’s in some type of code from Kelshaw, but so far it’s not clear. I thought you might have an idea. There’s reference to (LRRH).”
Neil looked at the computer screen. (LRRH) and then, the phrase BBW has left the forest. He noted that LRRH had been enclosed by parenthesis. Neil studied for a moment then looking at Fred with mild amusement said, “I believe that BBW means Big Bad Wolf.”
“Big Bad Wolf?” Wellman asked incredulously. “Come On!”
“Yes,” Neil answered, seriously now. “George and I had a running joke; when I began my assignment in the Office of Intelligence, he’d ring me up for lunch or whatever and would often refer to me as Little Red Riding Hood, telling me to watch out for the Big Bad Wolf on the way to our meeting place. Later, there were a few times when one or the other of us had to be careful about something and the admonition of watch out for the Big Bad Wolf would be used.
“Fred,” Neil said quietly, “George believed in simplicity; crazy as this may seem, I think he might have been using Little Red Riding Hood to tell us something. What do you remember about Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Other than the wolf eating Grandma, not much,” Fred responded.
“We need a copy of Little Red Riding Hood.”
Wellman moved aside as Neil reached for the desk phone. He was looking at Neil in stunned silence as Neil called his secre
tary Nancy to locate the story for them.
“Say again! I thought you asked me to locate the story of Little Red Riding Hood!”
“I did, Nancy, please, as soon as you can, find it.”
“All right, I’ll do my best,” she said as she left to carry out her errand.
“Come on, Fred, humor me. I haven’t gone over the edge here,” Neil assured his colleague. “If I’m right, George gave us information in a way that no one else would decipher.”
“Wellman nodded, “Okay, but in the meantime I’m going back to my office and the real world. I used to think it was weird over there,” Fred smiled referring to CIA at Langley. “Call me when the code book arrives.”
“I don’t think it should be too long,” Neil cautioned. “Stay loose and think of everything you can remember about Little Red Riding Hood.”
“I’ll do that,” Fred assured him as he reached for his jacket and opened the door. Looking back at Neil he stopped, half smiling he shook his head as he left the code room.
Several hours later Nancy entered Neil’s office with a tattered children’s book saying, “You will never know how hard it is to find a decent copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.”
Taking it out of her hand Neil gave a sigh of obvious relief. “I appreciate your effort, Nancy. Thank you, and for what its worth, this book will probably get harder to find as time goes on,” he said casually.
Neil picked up the phone. “Wellman, let’s get together and read Little Red Riding Hood. Nancy found a copy. I’ll meet you back here and we’ll see what we come up with.”
Fred and Neil along with the two computer techs settled into the office in the code room and began the strange task. Neil started reading the fairy tale aloud. Half way through he handed the book to Fred to complete while he made a few notes. Finally, Fred looked up as he closed the book on the last page he read and commented,
“Well, we’re finished reading.”
“Yes,” Neil answered, “Now for the hard work.”
“First let’s look at our characters and their activities. We have Mother who sends Little Red Riding Hood off to Grandma’s house with a basket of goodies.”
Wellman continued, “We have Big Bad Wolf and Grandma who we have already mentioned, and at the end there is the Hunter.”
One of the techs spoke up. “We should consider some possible symbols as well. For example, there are the woods or forest and Grandma’s house that the story says is under three big oak trees. If the guy was trying to tell us something, those items could be important.”
“Right!” the other tech was quickly entering data on his keyboard. “There are some other interesting items as well. Notice that Red trusts the wolf at first; the story says she doesn’t know how rotten he is. It also says that he (the wolf) walks along the path with her. Then later there’s the disguise he uses to trap her and Grandma.”
Fred Wellman was studying as they began to tear the story apart. Looking at Neil he said, “You knew Kelshaw; who do you believe he was talking about using this story? Is he Little Red Riding Hood? Who is Big Bad Wolf?”
“I don’t know yet,” offered Neil. “Let’s back up and look at the mission. Thayer and Kelshaw were tasked from Saigon to Laos to gather intelligence on Site 85, Phou Pha Thi. That was their cover. It had been arranged for Thayer to go on to meet Chernakov at a designated location and escort him to safety. Suppose Thayer is Little Red Riding Hood...”
“That would make Chernakov most likely Grandma,” Wellman added. “It might fit; look at the rest of the story. Mother could be HQ, the Agency or even higher,” he said with finality. “Now then, who is Big Bad Wolf and who is the Huntsman?”
Neil responded, “Let’s talk about the wolf’s characteristics; he had big teeth (the better to eat you); he had big ears (the better to hear you); big eyes (the better to see you) and he had big hands (the better to grab you).”
“And don’t forget,” interrupted the tech, “He walked along the path with Red.”
“Right,” Neil agreed. “So our BBW is powerful and knowledgeable and can do some serious harm; the big hands could mean that he has, or had, a large sphere of influence and,” he paused, “If he walked the path with LRRH it might mean he was there from the beginning and/or was someone that Red Riding Hood trusted.
“We know in the story that Grandma is old and sick; in other words Grandma is vulnerable. Chernakov would certainly be vulnerable and since he carried information from USSR and China to the United States, the three oak trees could be symbolic of the three powerful countries.
“The meeting place for Thayer and Chernakov could be Grandma’s house where they fell into the trap BBW set for them,” Neil ruminated.
Neil looked at the techs, “You guys keep going with the story. Fred, I think we’ve done enough here for today; what do you say we digest what we have and give it some more thought? In particular, we should examine the phrase BBW has left the forest. I have an idea.”
“I agree,” Fred replied. “I’m late for a meeting, so tomorrow morning early works for me.”
✽✽✽
9:30 AM
When Charlene woke on Friday morning she knew she must call Olivia Coleman after her meeting with Brad the previous evening. She wanted to choose her words carefully knowing Brad had told Olivia of their disagreement. She picked up the telephone and placed the call.
“Hello, Livy, it’s Charlene. I had to let you know how well things have turned out. I had dinner with Brad last evening and he has agreed to help me get to the bottom of the mystery; he now believes that the letter that I received from Paul was indeed authentic. There’s so much to tell you. It has been such a nightmare with all this Kelshaw business—”
“Wait, Charlene, what letter from Paul are you talking about?” Olivia interrupted, “And did you say Kelshaw?”
Charlene stopped in stunned silence, “Yes, Olivia, I did say Kelshaw—and Brad didn’t tell you about the letter?” she asked quietly and then, “Did you know George Kelshaw, Olivia?” she asked cautiously.
“No, not personally, but his father lives not a quarter of a mile from us and I have just now finished reading the obituary of George Kelshaw, Jr. in the morning paper. What did you have to do with this man, Charlene? It said in the paper that he died in Seattle.”
“Yes, he did die in Seattle, Olivia. He was murdered.”
Olivia gasped, “Murdered?”
“Yes, Olivia, murdered, and what’s more, he tried to call me. I’m sorry I can’t say anymore right now—I’m very confused—did Brad know George Kelshaw?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia responded. “The obituary said that he had been in Vietnam at the embassy in Saigon. I would be very surprised if he didn’t know him; according to the dates given in the paper they were there at the same time and probably the same time as Paul too. I’ll ask him Charlene. You’ve got to tell me what this letter business is all about.”
“I promise I will, but I can’t right now. I have to go, Olivia. I need time to absorb all of this. Yes, do ask Brad. I’ll call soon.”
✽✽✽
As soon as Olivia Coleman was disconnected from Charlene Thayer she turned to the obituary for George Kelshaw, Jr. in the Alexandria Journal before dialing the Olympic Hotel in Seattle. Rereading it more carefully --
George W. Kelshaw, Jr., died September 16th in Seattle, Washington. He was born November 15, 1933 to Drs. Paula and George W. Kelshaw, Sr. in Laos, where his parents served as medical missionaries, returning to the United States in 1943 when George was ten years old.
After receiving his doctoral degree from Princeton University he joined Georgetown University’s Department of Government where he taught Linguistics in the School of Foreign Service.
In 1964 he was commissioned a Major in the United States Air Force and was assigned to the United States Embassy in Saigon. Later promoted to Lt. Colonel, he remained in Southeast Asia was captured and held as a Prisoner of War.
He is survived by his fa
ther, George Kelshaw, Sr. MD (ret) of Alexandria, Virginia and his sister Myra Kelshaw Klein and her husband Neil of McLean, Virginia.
Private services will be held at 1:00 PM on Wednesday, October 1, at the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church. Interment will be in Arlington National Cemetery. Remembrances may be given to the mission society of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church.
✽✽✽
Brad was deep in thought mulling over the events of the last few days while packing and the phone jarred him. Answering it quickly “Hello..”
“Brad, this is Olivia. Charlene just called to say how pleased she was that you had agreed to help her...” she paused, “With the letter from Paul.”
“Ah,” he stopped, and then responded with irritable discomfort. “Yes, yes, as I told you earlier we came to a mutual agreement and...”
“Never mind all that Brad,” she broke in, “Besides the letter from Paul which you haven’t told me about, Charlene asked a question that I would like you to answer for me. Did you know a man named George Kelshaw?”
She heard a sharp intake of breath, “Why do you ask me that? What did Charlene tell you?” he blustered.
“No need to use that tone with me, Bradley, I asked a simple question—did you or do you know George Kelshaw?”
She could hear his breathing, but no answer was forthcoming. She continued, “There is an obituary in the morning Journal for George Kelshaw, Jr., and it states among other things that he died in Seattle. Charlene told me that he tried to contact her and after that he was murdered. What do you know about this man, Brad? And what letter from Paul is she referring to?”
“I’ll have to call you later, Olivia. I must go now, I have an appointment.” He placed the phone gently in the cradle. Then picking it up again, called the desk and ordered The Washington Times and the Post to be delivered to his room along with The New York Times. Then he dialed Lyle Ramsey’s private number. “Lyle, this is Brad, we may have a problem; I want you to find out who claimed Kelshaw’s body and arranged for its transport back to DC.”
While Rome Was Sleeping Page 27
