M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“Sure, Jim, I’ll give you the weekend and then I want him on Monday. Right now I’d better call the story in to the Times. Ramsey’s suicide will be headlines tomorrow.”

Saturday October 4, 1980

Neil heard Andrew Kincaid’s voice on the early morning call he had initiated. “Good morning, Andrew, I apologize for not getting back to you yesterday. First of all I want to thank you for your persistence regarding Aunt Martha’s luggage—there was a great deal more information George wanted us to have.”

“Did it nail Coleman?”

“In a way, Andrew, but not in the way that I had anticipated,” Neil said guardedly. “We had an unexpected discovery; one of our contacts was able to conclude the final chapter in the Thayer Chernakov story. I will fill you in when I return to Seattle in a few days. What was the purpose of your call yesterday?”

“Things have changed radically since I placed the call to you yesterday. The wire services probably already have the news, Neil; Lyle Ramsey was found dead in his office last night. The police think it was suicide—he left a note that talked about his ‘serious errors in judgment’ in relation to GCI.

“Its funny, Neil, Jim Savalza and I went to see Ramsey midday yesterday. Jim openly accused Ramsey of the murders of Maxwell and Kelshaw. Then I hit Ramsey with the suggestion of an interview with him and Harrison Carr regarding GCI. Neil, did you know that Harrison Carr is on GCI’s International Board of Directors?”

Yes, Andrew, after we examined the film in Aunt Martha’s luggage there was the description of the entire GCI family. How did you learn about it?”

“Never underestimate the resources of the news industry, Neil.”

“All right Andrew, I’ll take your word for it. So Ramsey committed suicide, hmnn, I’ll have to digest this in light of what we’ve already learned. On another subject, how is Charlene Thayer?”

“She’s great! The bandages are gone and she can see just fine. Thanks for asking, I’ll tell her. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you here,” Andrew offered.

“It’s good news about Charlene. Yes, I will; I’ll be in touch,” he said ending the call abruptly.

10:30 AM

Olivia Coleman had said goodbye to her parents at the airport in Philadelphia where she had gone after George Kelshaw’s funeral. Her heart was heavy—she had not shared with them the difficulties in hers and Brad’s marriage. She found it almost unbearable to pretend that all was well.

Her mother sensed the unrest in their daughter and told Clyde as they drove away from the terminal that she thought Brad’s military obligations were taking their toll on the marriage. Her husband nodded in agreement for he too sensed the change in Olivia.

It was 10:30 Saturday morning when Olivia rang the doorbell at the Convent of St. Helena. She had arrived in Seattle late on Friday and had taken a room for the night in preparation for her reunion with Charlene Thayer. She knew it would be bittersweet.

The door opened and a round bodied, blue and white garbed nun greeted her.

“You must be Sister Ruth,” Olivia guessed. “I am Olivia Coleman and I spoke with you the other day.”

“Sister Ruth smiled at the lovely dark haired woman in front of her and said, “Yes, indeed I am and welcome! Do come in and I will tell Charlene that you are here.”

Hurrying up the stairs, Ruth tapped lightly on Charlene’s door, “There’s someone downstairs to see you in the parlor, dear.”

Andrew and Harry Browne were putting the finishing touches on the first part of the GCI story for the Sunday Times. Stories about GCI would ultimately occupy the nation’s news media for months to come.

The headline for the Sunday business page was ‘When Business Isn’t Good for any Country,’ By Harry Browne with Andrew Kincaid. The article began: ‘Exposing the dark side, indeed the malevolent side of business is not generally what this column does. And it isn’t often that a major international business that is thought of in terms of almost holy, large scale humanitarianism becomes the subject of this column, that is, not until today.

GCI or Global Construction International has always been controversial in international business circles. The determination of its leadership has left little doubt in anyone’s mind that GCI would do whatever GCI was contracted to do regardless of political climates, blockades, piracy or embargoes.

The GCI approach to attending to some of the world’s most devastating calamities has been to offer immediate humanitarian aid and reconstruction while world governments wrung their hands and argued over who would do what and where. The corporation has remained largely impervious to outside criticism from world governments and corporations due to its well connected international Board of Directors. This powerful group of twelve nations’ representatives, including the United States, has insulated GCI and its Swiss CEO international banker, Karel Schneiderman, from any and all attacks.

But beneath the beating heart of GCI humanitarianism there is a much darker element one that most world governments and representatives are being called upon to excise; that is the use of prisoners of war, some Americans, as slave labor in Southeast Asia.

The column continued outlining the shocking practice and the world areas where it was happening… Andrew and Harry concluded the piece and sent it forward to Joe Belmont, the editor-in-chief for final approval.

Andy yawned and looked at Harry, “Well my friend, you got your story, now let’s see what happens. By doing a three part series the dust can settle in between. I’m going home and actually put my feet up.”

Harry nodded agreement, “I’ll stick around for awhile… it will be interesting to see what happens now. You know we stepped on a few toes in our ‘sensitive text’,” he laughed then more seriously stated, “I guess from what you’ve told me, Andy, this is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“There will be more, Harry and there will probably be repercussions.”

Sunday morning

October 5, 1980

It was 7:30 AM when Andrew opened his apartment door collected the Times and made coffee before sitting down with the Sunday paper. Andrew scanned the Sunday Times for his and Harry Browne’s Headline story the first of three articles on the expose of Global Construction International. It wasn’t there—Andrew went through the paper three times to no avail. As he reached for the phone it rang, “Andy, its Harry…”

“Harry where’s our story?” Andrew exclaimed.

“They killed it, Andy!” Harry sounded sick.

“What do you mean they killed it, Harry?”

“I mean the managing editor and the publisher—it was too inflammatory—that’s what they said.”

“Since when does a newspaper worry about a story being too inflammatory if it’s the truth?” Andrew remonstrated.

“Don’t ask me, Andy; we didn’t attack the Pope, I think we might have gotten away with that. There’s something rotten here, Andy, I can smell it!”

“You’re right, Harry; there is something very wrong, I think we’ve learned a lesson about power in this town. Someone has put the squeeze on, but I’m not going to deal with right it now. I’m going to pick up someone for Church.”

“Good; better say a prayer for us too, Andy; we’re going to need it!”

Andrew met Olivia Coleman when he arrived at the Convent to pick up Charlene and accompany her to St. Mark’s. He noted that the two friends were happy and comfortable in each other’s company, putting to rest his concern that Olivia’s visit might be stressful for Charlene given her encounter with Brad Coleman. In fact, watching them together he was thinking there was an element of wholeness brought about by their friendship.