M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“George was in contact with me. He had identified you as a possible contact through one of your colleagues, Jack Hubbard.”

“Oh, yeah,” Andrew replied. “On that subject I want to say this; there are some things I want to know and some things I don’t,” he stated emphatically, “I don’t want to know if Jack Hubbard is in any way connected to any covert activities!”

Neil was taken aback by Andrew’s controlled vehemence. “Why?” he asked, truly surprised.

“Because,” Andrew responded, “Jack is… was… a friend and a damned good journalist and that’s the way it should be. I don’t want to know if he crossed the line and got tangled up with some spook operation. I just want to know the barest details of how Kelshaw and Jack Hubbard hooked up; beyond that, I don’t need to know anything else!”

“That’s fine,” Neil answered looking around to see if anyone in the dining room noticed Andrew’s intensity. “That’s fair, but you asked me, and that’s how I knew. Let me make it easy for you, Andrew,” Neil went on. “I can assure you that Jack Hubbard was not and is not a CIA agent. However, in the real world, as I’m sure you can appreciate, situations often dictate the responses, and lines sometimes get blurred for the sake of a greater good. Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked. Not waiting for Andrew’s response, he went on, “Now tell me about yourself and what has happened since George was killed.”

Andrew felt slightly shot down, but relieved. “Well that could take the better part of the afternoon, but I’ll give you the highlights. I write a bi-weekly column for the Seattle Times and do a five day, hour long, radio talk show on station KGM. It’s sometimes political, sometimes focuses on local problems, but,” he paused “I have a feeling you already know more about me than I would be comfortable knowing soooo… back to the events of last Tuesday,” he drew a deep breath. Had it only been Tuesday of this week?

“I do know a little about you,” Neil smiled. “For example I know that you have done some excellent investigative reporting as well.”

“I was born with insatiable curiosity; in other words I’m a natural snoop,” Andrew responded with amusement. He wondered where Neil got his information.

After filling Neil in about Kelshaw’s murder, the burglary and trashing of the Center, he looked up and saw Ben crossing the dining room to their table. “Here comes Father Ben now.”

A slightly built Chinese man in clerics’ clothing was approaching them. He was about 5’6”, and probably in his fifties, Neil estimated. His black hair was graying at the temples. Both men stood as Father Ben approached.

“Father Ben Lee, meet Evan Scott.”

Ben bowed slightly, “I am honored,” Ben said graciously.

“I, too, am honored,” Neil answered.

“Sit here, Father Ben,” Andrew had pulled out a chair.

Ben smiled, “Thank you. Andrew I trust you and Mr. Scott have had an opportunity to discuss some of the events of this week.” Andrew nodded as Ben turned to Neil. “I hope your flight was satisfactory. I am certain Andrew has told you that if there is anything we can do to accommodate your needs, you have but to ask.”

Neil noted the sincerity in Ben’s eyes that radiated warmth, friendship and compassion. He responded, “Absolutely,” appreciatively, while thinking how glad he was that this man was with George at the end of his life.

Andrew was speaking, “I have tried to bring Evan up to speed on some of what has happened since Tuesday, but not all; and we haven’t talked about Detective Savalza.” He looked squarely at Ben who returned his gaze with a little nod of his head.

Neil’s eyes narrowed and he asked with some apprehension, “Who is Detective Savalza? You didn’t…?”

“No, don’t get excited. Jim Savalza is the police detective investigating Kelshaw’s murder. He’s a friend; a good guy and very good cop.” Reading Neil’s face, Andrew was quick to allay his concerns. “He knows that Kelshaw was CIA, but he doesn’t know anything about Aunt Martha’s luggage. He has read the letters to Ben and the letter he carried for Charlene Thayer. He was and is concerned about the implied danger to the three of us that is mentioned in Ben’s letter.”

Andrew paused, “I know him pretty well, he’s a tough investigator and he won’t quit until he has some answers. I think it would be to your advantage to include him in these discussions. How long will it be before the Feds get wind of this and step in to run the investigation? Right now, I don’t think anyone has officially identified George Kelshaw, but it will happen.”

Neil nodded, “Ordinarily our Detective Savalza will be required to report George’s connection. You’re right, better to bring him on board, but tomorrow.” Looking at Andrew, “I’ll ask you to take care of it.”

Father Ben was nodding agreement with what had been said adding, “It would be well if we could meet at the Center tomorrow, Ben offered. It will be closed for the day and I am certain we will not be disturbed. Perhaps we should wait to discuss more details of Mr. Kelshaw until then,” he said to Neil.

“I will agree to that, Father, if Andrew has no objections. I would like to know about Charlene Thayer. Was George able to speak with her before…?”

“No,” Andrew responded. “When Kelshaw called her, she thought it was a crank call and hung up on him. I delivered a letter he had been carrying for years from her husband, Paul, to her.”

“That must have been very difficult,” Neil said knowingly.

“I don’t think I have ever felt more helpless, than I did at that moment. I didn’t know it at the time, it wasn’t just the letter, but the strange fact that it was written nearly a year after she had been notified of his death. There were other things in that letter that were very strange as well; some things in it about being betrayed and a very interesting line about being with a Soviet officer, one Pyotr Chernakov who had defected. If I’m not mistaken he was some kind of Soviet national hero, so how did he wind up with Thayer?”

“She let you read the letter?” Neil asked curiously, disregarding Andrew’s question.

“Yes, but not until the next morning; that night after reading it she got up and ran out of the restaurant where we met. The next day I went to her house. I had to see if there was something I could do to…, I don’t know, just to help if I could,” Andrew rationalized.

“Did she say anything at all about Kelshaw?”

“Yes, when I asked her, she said she didn’t know who he was.”

Jim Savalza returned to his office from the Washington Athletic Club in an optimistic mood. He felt he was on the verge of a breakthrough in the Kelshaw murder after seeing Andrew, Father Ben and Evan Scott in some kind of pow-wow. It would just take a little time to sort everything out.

Jim liked to work each case as a puzzle to be put together; finding a major piece and fitting it with another was exciting and challenging.

He decided he would visit the Department’s Property Room and check out what items might be there that had belonged to Kelshaw. There could be something that might shine more light on this case—maybe, he thought.

“Hi, Jim, what brings you here?” Carl Cramer was on duty in the Property Room. Carl was a good man who always paid attention to details. Jim liked that. Carl would be retiring soon and Jim would miss him.

“Carl, I want to look at any personal property that belonged to George Kelshaw, the guy who was stabbed outside the Seamen’s Center last Tuesday. What do you have?”

“Not much,” Carl told him. “A watch and his clothes are all. Here they are,” he offered the itemized bag. He watched as Jim looked through the clothing and examined the watch. “Strange,” Cramer commented, “you’d think a man would have more on him than that, like a wallet unless that was stolen, and some kind of identification.”