M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“Just make it numb, huh? With that stuff?” Andrew pointed to the nearly empty Scotch bottle.

“It helps, for awhile,” Jack responded.

Andrew was silent for a few moments then, “You know, Jack, you should meet, my friend Father Ben Lee.”

“Oh now wait a minute, Andy, I’m not in need of a chaplain if that’s what you’re trying to set up.”

“No, not at all, I just think that you might find talking with him interesting. George Kelshaw spent the last hours of his life with Ben. In fact, he gave Kelshaw last rites at the hospital; he didn’t even know whether George was Catholic or even a Christian for that matter. He’s not a holier than thou type. He’s been a good friend to me as well. Who knows, he might be able to help you find another way to turn your mind off. The alternative isn’t working too well, is it?” Andrew asked ponderously.

Jack was quiet.

“Okay,” Andrew closed the subject. “Now how about some breakfast and then I want to know what Kelshaw wanted you to do for him and what you got out of the deal.”

Jack drained his coffee cup, set it down and nodded as Andrew moved to start breakfast. “First, I think I’ll grab a shower, if you don’t mind. Hold the eggs until I come back.” He yawned and stretched as he moved toward the bathroom.

“Good plan,” I have to make a call.” Andrew quickly dialed Charlene. “Good morning,” he said pleasantly, hearing her say “hello.”

“Good morning to you,” she said warmly. “I heard your last show yesterday; I wondered…” She waited.

“I hoped you heard; I called Father Ben. I thought about calling you, but I wanted to see you in person and talk about it. That’s really why I phoned; I’d like to set something up for tomorrow or maybe even later on today?”

“Yes, either way. Later today would work too. If not then, pick me up at St. Mark’s about the same time as before. What’s going on?” she asked, slightly puzzled.

“My friend, Jack Hubbard, blew into town and dropped in on me yesterday and we spent most of last night swapping stories. I’m not sure how long he’ll be here so that’s why I’m a little vague; I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Andy. I know who Jack Hubbard is; I’ve read quite a few of his pieces. Have fun and enjoy your time together. Call me later and we’ll go from there; just let me know. Bye now.” She said lightly. She had wondered about his departure from KGM and looked forward to learning the details. “Oh well,” she thought,

“I can’t compete with Jack Hubbard, sooo… I have other things to do.”

“Yeah, ‘bye, I’ll definitely call later.” Andrew gently laid the phone in the cradle as Jack reappeared. This time he looked genuinely refreshed. “I borrowed your razor,” he said stroking his face. “Now I’ll have that breakfast.” Eyeing the phone, “I hope I didn’t interrupt. Someone special?” he asked.

“Scrambled eggs and bacon coming up,” Andrew cleared his throat, “She’s pretty special.” He wished his stomach would stop feeling like a teenager with a first time crush.

Jack pulled out a stool at the counter and studied Andrew, then said. “Does she, by any chance, have any influence on your decision about the future?”

“Not about my professional goals, if that’s what you’re asking. Personal future is another matter. It’s Charlene Thayer.”

“Ahhhh, the widow Thayer?” Jack bit into his toast and chewed thoughtfully, looking out the window. “A little sudden isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, and yes, it is sudden, but it’s real. Well, go ahead; aren’t you going to pontificate with your usual sage wisdom?” Andrew asked with slight irritation.

“Oh no, Andrew, my friend, I’m afraid romance is not my forte. Just watch yourself in the clinches,” Jack smiled knowingly.

“Now let’s talk about Kelshaw. You asked what he wanted me to do for him and conversely, what I wanted him to do for me.”

“That’s right.”

“Simply stated, George wanted me to be a safe conduit for information to Neil Klein. He wasn’t certain who to trust. He already knew there was one double agent operating in the CIA arena and couldn’t afford to take chances.

“My request was simple as well; I told him I wanted to go along with him on his search.”

“What did he say?” Andrew asked with a laugh.

“At first he said no, then, that he would consider it. I told him it was my way or no way , and I wanted an exclusive story, of course. I didn’t hear from him for a couple of days, and then one night he showed up in the hotel bar. He just nodded his head and we met the following afternoon at the monastery to work out the details.”

“Jack, what do you know about General Bradley Coleman and his time in Vietnam?” Andrew asked casually.

“Oh, you mean the guy who is now Deputy in the DIA?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Well, he was there when I was. He was a full bird-colonel then. I saw him at press conferences now and again. He was a J-3 directly under Westmoreland, I think. Why do you ask about him?”

“Did you know that he had an affair with Lia Duprè?”

“No—who told you that, Andy?” Jack asked surprised.

“Neil Klein,”

Jack paused and then slowly nodded his head as memories returned. “Maybe…, I recall now that I did see them together a few times, but I didn’t think too much of it.

She was always with someone of rank or privilege. Like other correspondents, I was in an out of Saigon, and much of that kind of gossip escaped my notice.

“It’s interesting that you mention Coleman, though. There was a car bombing that happened sometime, maybe March or April of 1970. Curiously the officer inside was identified as Paul Thayer and was supposedly a close friend of Coleman’s. Coleman left to accompany what was left of the body home.”

“You knew?” Andrew exclaimed.

“About Thayer? Yes,” Shrugging, Jack said. “Yes, I knew, I was there. It was quite a surprise to me to hear about the death of Paul Thayer again — this time in Laos. And, this time, through Kelshaw and Klein. Nobody knew who died in the car or who planted the bomb; and nobody ever saw Thayer again in Saigon. That said, how much does Charlene Thayer know?”

“Only that whoever is buried in Thayer’s grave isn’t Thayer. Klein didn’t tell her anything definitive; only that he was aware of the discrepancy. Is that what you meant about Klein being almost one of the good guys?”

“Yeah,” Jack responded. “Discrepancy! Is that what he called it? He knew Thayer was alive and well, temporarily at least, and was incommunicado in Laos, by his orders. I don’t know why I should have been surprised; the intelligence clowns were always playing some clandestine spook game but this seemed to be over the top. Although the stakes were high as it turned out, if they could have gotten Chernakov out…” He didn’t finish.

“It’s strange you didn’t meet Kelshaw in Saigon at that time, but you met Neil Klein.”

Jack shrugged, “I don’t know if you could call it strange, I’m sure it was just coincidental that our paths didn’t cross, there were always officials coming and going. Klein was with the State Department, an official face, so everyone in the press corps was aware of him. Kelshaw, on the other hand, would have been just another military face and in and out all the time as well.

“Why do you ask about Coleman, Andy?”

“I’ll go into that later; but right now I want to hear what happened with you and Kelshaw.”

“As I told you, Kelshaw was doing detective work in Thailand and Laos for a little less than two years. Some of that time he was hidden in a village recovering from the bullet wounds he picked up at Udorn. When he left Udorn, he was trailing the agent who killed Blair and the Meo, his own wounds had only been superficially treated. He had lost a lot of blood and within a short time his shoulder became badly infected.