While Rome Was Sleeping

by M. S. Forsythe

  Andrew obeyed slowly, wondering what was coming next.

  The deep voice droned on, “You know Andrew, I have lunch with your editor Joe Belmont once or twice a month, sometimes more often and I saw your publisher at round table just the other day. I’ve told them both on several occasions to keep an eye on you, you’re smart and you’re a comer. I enjoy most of your columns and I would like to see them continue. It would be a shame for you to let your career get bogged down in some less than plausible theory of international intrigue.” Carr’s voice oozed with deep concern.

  “Are you threatening me?” shock crossed Andrew’s face.

  “Threatening you...of course not, Mr. Kincaid, I’m an old man. Why would I do that?” Carr feigned incredulity, “I am only looking out for your welfare. I am very sure that you came here today to offer your condolences,” he stood; dumbfounded, Andrew shook the hand that was offered.

  Carr smiled, “Thank you for coming—when all this is over I will be glad to give you an in-depth interview about GCI. Yes, and have your business editor, Mr. Browne call me about an interview too-anytime, here is my card.”

  Slightly dazed, Andrew left astonished at what had just transpired in Carr’s office. “He did it...he killed Lyle Ramsey. He knows that I know he did it and he also knows that I can’t do anything about it.”

  Chapter 23

  Wednesday, October 8, 1980

  Lyle Ramsey was buried next to his father in the family plot at Evergreen-Washelli Cemetery. His funeral was attended by a host of prestigious individuals, many of whom were political leaders of past years and who were friends and associates of Lyle Ramsey, Sr., many trekking to the cemetery for a final farewell.

  As the casket was lowered, Harrison Carr leaned on Connie Porter’s arm for support walking from the graveside to the waiting limousine; his despair and grief visible to all those present.

  Andrew and Jim watched the procession from a distance.

  Jim commented, “Well they’ve put my prime suspect for Monte and George Kelshaw’s murders in the ground. Too bad he chose to end his own life. I would like to have seen the man sweat out his years in Walla Walla. I still feel sorry for old man Carr.”

  Andrew smiled sardonically, “I have a hunch he sweated some before he died,” he philosophized. “I’ve got to get going; I have to pick up Neil Klein at SeaTac, want to come? I could use a police escort,” he jibed.

  “No, Andy, but thanks for opportunity to use the bells and whistles. I think I’ll go back to my office and try to catch up on the mountain of paperwork on my desk,” Jim sighed.

  “Okay, but remember Klein is going to want to talk with both of us so don’t be too far out of reach.”

  ✽✽✽

  Andrew was waiting when Neil Klein’s plane touched down. This time there was no subterfuge, no Evan Scott scenario; the threat that had hung over them was gone. They greeted each other as old friends.

  “Neil, it’s good to see you...what brings you back to Seattle, GCI?”

  “In a way, Andrew...it’s good to see you too—I came mostly to meet with you and Father Ben and Charlene Thayer and I’d like to see Jim Savalza as well. I will see some of you together and some individually.” As an afterthought, Neil asked, “By the way, is Jack Hubbard still in town? I would very much like to talk with him about George and to thank him for all of his help.”

  “Yes, Neil, as a matter of fact he has been crashing at my place off and on; I’ll have him call you. I’ve made a reservation for you at the WAC if that’s all right.”

  “Yes, Andrew it is and hopefully under my own name.”

  “That’s how you’re booked.

  Andrew delivered Neil to the Washington Athletic Club and after registering, Neil said, “Join me for a drink, Andrew; I’d like to get caught up.”

  Their drinks were brought to their table; Neil leaned forward and spoke softly, “Tell me about Ramsey’s suicide, Andy.”

  “It wasn’t suicide, Neil—but there’s no way to prove it. It was the perfect crime. I’m the only one who doesn’t believe that Ramsey took his own life. Savalza and the coroner are convinced that it was suicide; the note was handwritten and signed by Ramsey and there was no indication of duress.”

  “Then why do you think it wasn’t, Andrew?”

  “I had a gut feeling; so I went to see Carr and it was clear, he did it. I accused him and he didn’t deny it, but he let me know that my bread is buttered by virtue of his pleasure. He pulls some powerful strings and the powers in the Seattle Times dance. He knows that I can’t prove he did it. He isn’t worried.”

  Neil was struck by Andrew’s temerity, “So now what? What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing,” Andrew took a deep breath took a long drink and looked steadily at Neil, “There is nothing that I can do, the old man got away with murder. Sometimes it happens,” he shrugged. “Now, what about Coleman? What did you find out? He was tied to GCI wasn’t he?”

  “Yes Andy, he was, and my boss and the Secretary have given us the green light to turn the information from George Kelshaw and Chernakov over to the Armed Services Committee. Senator Ken Stone who has worked with us on the POW/MIA issue for years is on that committee along with Senator Mike Owens who chairs it.

  “I expect there will be a Senate Hearing on this whole mess and I also expect a number of subpoenas will be issued to key individuals.”

  “How will that affect Coleman?” Andrew’s frustration level was growing.

  “Patience Andrew, General Coleman is going to have to explain his failure at DIA to the Senate Armed Services Committee and why DIA ignored the reports of POWs being used as slave labor; he will have to answer to Senator Mike Owens and I think that will be a little hard for General Coleman.

  “He will also be asked to explain his ties with GCI and Lyle Ramsey. However, now with Lyle Ramsey dead, it complicates things a little more; he was the only tangible GCI tie we had to Coleman.”

  “What about the attempt to kill Charlene and me—is he going to get away with that too?”

  “I confronted him, Andrew, and like you and Harrison Carr, I can’t prove it, but he knows that I know he was behind it and that I know he was behind Kelshaw’s murder also. Unlike Carr, Coleman is very worried. I will leave it to your discretion whether or not you tell Charlene Thayer.”

  Andrew thought about Olivia Coleman and Charlene’s friendship and said, “Maybe some secrets should be left alone, Neil. What about Harrison Carr and GCI? Carr used his influence to kill our Times story unveiling GCI.”

  “I’m not surprised. Harrison Carr will no doubt be asked to testify before the Senate as the United States member of the GCI Board of Directors. GCI will insulate Carr and Carr will insulate GCI ... it’s the way it works, Andrew.

  “There are some fights that no matter how hard you try, you can’t win totally. This thing with GCI is one of them.

  “The good news is that the evidence we will present regarding GCI’s use of POW’s will undoubtedly wind up before the International Court of Justice or the United Nations, eventually. I believe that when all of the information on the POW slave labor issue sees the light of day and receives the well deserved adverse publicity, GCI itself will make the necessary changes.

  “Don’t worry, Andrew, the papers will get the story and then maybe you can try again, although The Washington Post and the New York Times may be the ones who initially break the story.

  “Our office will continue to track and trace any reports of POW sightings; and because of Coleman, the DIA will take the brunt of the failure to do a good job of follow-up on such sightings.”

  “So that’s it then, Neil, we all compromise; everybody gets a slap on the wrist and we all go home; George Kelshaw gives his life,” he paused, “For this? It stinks!”

  “Yes it does, Andrew; but as for George, the information he gave us is invaluable and I don’t believe he would have it any other way. George was a realist; it’s the world we live in and he knew that very
well. All in all we haven’t done too badly considering what we’re up against.

  “You know, Andrew, one of the greatest empires in history slept in the comfort of wealth and stagnation and ignored the ‘little stuff’. If you don’t pay attention to the ‘little stuff’, big stuff happens, and then its too late..., the foundation has crumbled. But the good guys still have to try, Andrew, compromises or not.”

  Andrew was thoughtful then said, “You once commented that I should run for public office, maybe that’s a good plan and if I do, I think I’ll do it right here in my own back yard.”

  “Not the House or Senate to start?”

  “Nope, maybe someday, but I think I’ll start with the ‘little stuff’... then maybe governor.”

  ✽✽✽

  Breakfast at the Convent was nearly over when Charlene announced, “Sister Ruth, you have to go back to the Seamen’s Center; I know Father Ben needs you, and its time for me to go home. You have all been so good to me and so gracious to my dear friend, Olivia. I can’t thank you enough,” she spoke appreciatively to the three nuns at the table. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, Sister Cecelia, Sister Margaret and you, dear Sister Ruth.”

  Sister Ruth sighed, “Yes, dear I know, we all do, that you want to go home—and yes, I must go back to work at the Center and make sure everyone is doing what should be done. You know Father Ben can get himself into so much trouble,” she said with an impish grin. “It has been lovely having you with us, dear, you brighten up our table. If you like, I’ll drive you home right after lunch, by then Sister Rose and Sister Angela will be here to say goodbye.”

  As Charlene was packing, Sister Ruth called her to the phone; it was Neil Klein.

  “Hello, Charlene, I’m in town for a short time and I would like you to have dinner with me tonight. I have some things to tell you. I’m staying at the Washington Athletic Club so we can meet here or somewhere else if you prefer.”

  “No Neil, the WAC will be fine. What time and are we meeting alone?”

  “Let’s try for 6:00 and yes, at first; if you like I will ask Andrew and Father Ben to join us for dessert, but I want some time to speak to you alone.”

  ✽✽✽

  Promptly at 6:00 PM Neil and Charlene were seated in the dining room at the WAC at the table where Neil had met with Andrew, Father Ben and Charlene a few weeks before.

  Looking at Neil Charlene said simply, “I assume by this meeting you have some answers for me about Paul.”

  He smiled at her candor, “Charlene, I promised you that if I could, I would tell you when we found out who betrayed Paul and General Chernakov. At the time I was deeply concerned about your friendship with General Coleman because,” he paused, “because I was convinced that it was he. That conviction was strengthened by Coleman’s denial of knowing George Kelshaw—the truth is that while Coleman lied about Kelshaw, it had nothing to do with the betrayal of your husband. Coleman is guilty of many other things but not the murder of Paul Thayer.

  “The man responsible was a double agent working for the CIA, and in reality was Soviet KGB. He also murdered the CIA station chief at Udorn, Thailand, along with the Hmong who carried the information and Paul’s letter to George Kelshaw.

  “Kelshaw was wounded in the encounter. From then on the story is one of Kelshaw’s searching and hunting this man until his own capture.” Charlene listened without interruption and then said, “Thank you...”

  “Wait, Charlene, there is more that I want to say. At the time Paul was sent on the mission, we were unaware of the car bombing. The next day when it was thought that Paul Thayer was the victim, it was an easy way of explaining his sudden absence from Saigon and it protected the mission, but...,” the thought was incomplete.

  “You were concerned about the body in Paul’s grave—we now believe it was an AWOL sailor who had run afoul of the military in drug trafficking and black market dealings and that in the attempt to steal the vehicle he was killed by a bomb set for your husband. What you do with this information now is entirely up to you, Charlene. I will help any way I can if you decide to exhume the body.”

  She spoke tenuously, “I-I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it. Did Brad know?”

  “Not for a long time as it turns out. He really believed that Paul was in that car. I’m the one that knew, Charlene, I knew almost right away; I couldn’t tell you until now.”

  Charlene dabbed at her eyes and took a deep breath, her voice soft with emotion, “Thank you Neil, for at least being honest with me now. It helps me to understand Paul’s letter a little more. And thank you for telling me that it wasn’t Brad. You see, I was afraid it might have been.

  “He is in serious trouble isn’t he?” she looked at Klein who nodded, yes.

  “What’s going to happen to him?”

  “I really don’t know, Charlene. As the inquiries unfold we’ll get a better picture,” Neil responded.

  “I’m glad Olivia came to see me...,” she said softly.

  Neil surmised, “I understand why. I met her on Wednesday last at George’s service; she came with my father-in-law, Dr. Kelshaw; she appeared to be a very fine and compassionate person--I was impressed.”

  “She’s a special friend and will always be; Brad is fortunate to have her in his corner.”

  “There will be some tough times ahead for her in that corner. Well, Charlene our time alone is up, here come Father Ben and Andrew to join us for dessert. I just might have some frosting to put on Father Ben’s cake,” he smiled.

  Charlene looked puzzled as Andrew and Ben made their way to the table.

  “I hope we are interrupting, Neil, you stole my girl for dinner, now I get her for dessert and the rest of the evening if she says its okay,” Andrew leaned over and brushed a kiss on her cheek.

  Charlene smiled and whispered, “Yes, definitely.”

  Father Ben ordered hot tea and Andrew, Neil and Charlene ordered coffee with their desserts.

  Neil studied Father Ben a moment before saying, “Father Ben do you recall when we were all here at dinner together, you inquired if I could tell you about a man whose name was Lu Chan from your village in China, do you remember?”

  Ben nodded his head, “Yes Neil, I do remember, you said you were unable to do so.”

  “I also told you Father Ben, that as things unfolded perhaps you would receive news of him. I believe Lu Chan will be seeing you in person, very soon perhaps in the next few days.”

  Ben’s face broke into a broad smile, turning to Andrew, he said excitedly, “Did you hear, Andrew, do you remember? Lu Chan was the reason that I came to know you. And now he will come and we can talk...I am so eager to see him, Neil. Is he a merchant seaman still?”

  “He’ll tell you some surprising things, Father.”

  Neil cleared his throat, “Now I would like to propose a toast, I’ll start with you Charlene, a most unusual and courageous lady, it has been a pleasure to know you; and to you Andrew, as a friend and member of the press, I toast your ingenuity and your honesty, it has also been an education,” he laughed, “And to you Father Ben, a most humble servant; all who know you profit by your quiet strength and goodness.” Neil raised his glass, “You have all renewed and broadened a dimension of my life that began when I first encountered my friend, George Kelshaw. Thank you for restoring it to me.” They drank the toast; then Andrew raised his glass, “To George Kelshaw.”

  “To George Kelshaw!” echoed the voices.

  Epilogue

  Thursday, October 9, 1980

  It was a perfect autumn day—the sky was cobalt blue and the air was crisp in the October sunshine. The deciduous trees still clung to leaves that had turned gold and some were tinged with red.

  A group of people were huddled around a voluminous object covered by a tarp in the Seattle Times parking lot; it was guarded by two uniformed Seattle Policemen.

  Some of the members of the group seemed to be engaged in guessing and attempting to peek under the cov
ering only to be chased off by the police guards.

  Among those gathered was Harry Browne, the Times business editor standing beside Charlene Thayer who was holding a camera; standing next to International Press correspondent, Jack Hubbard, was Father Ben Lee from the Seattle Seamen’s Center and a man who identified himself only as Neil Klein. A number of the Times reporters and editors Jim Griswold and Bill Cunningham were also present all equally inquisitive about the tarped lump in the center of the lot.

  Wendy the Times receptionist had just joined the group telling Harry that Andrew and Detective Savalza would be arriving there any minute.

  A Seattle police car with flashing lights pulled into the lot and Jim Savalza stepped out of the car followed by a bewildered looking Andrew Kincaid.

  Click! Charlene captured the look on Andrew’s face as he surveyed the faces and the covered mass behind them.

  Jim talked with Charlene briefly and turned around to face the group, raising his hands for everyone to attain silence, saying, “We are gathered here in honor of a man who never does anything half-way,” Jim said in a semi-serious tone. Looking at Andrew he continued, “For me, Andy, knowing you has been pure pleasure and pure pain. I think I speak for all who are gathered here who know you and love you, with the possible exception of Charlene Thayer who may or may not love you...be that as it may; we want you to know that we care! And this is a token of that caring.” To the officers, he said, “You may step aside now... Andrew step forward and unveil this thing.”

  Andrew Kincaid was totally unprepared for what was under the tarp. As he pulled it away he caught sight of a large red ribbon attached to the windscreen of his 1972 Toyota Land Cruiser, fully restored. A large cardboard poster stuck to the door emblazoned in large letters, ‘Andrew Kincaid for (political office Andy, you fill in the blank), and the card attached read, ‘for service above and beyond, in appreciation and with love, from all your friends.

  Flabbergasted, Andrew was looking at his friends trying to overcome the large lump in his throat. Jim Savalza put his hand on Andrew’s shoulder. Click! A camera recorded the moment for posterity.