M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“Livy, what are you going to do?” Brad was visibly shaken. Brad had not addressed her by the pet name since Hawaii.

She paused for a moment, her hand on the back of his chair and then stated, “Right now I’m going to bed… you can have the guest room. I don’t know yet what I’m going to do.”

Instead of the guest room, Brad remained slumped morosely in the chair in the den. His marriage, his world was falling apart. He couldn’t let it happen. He would plead with her and beg her forgiveness. She must forgive him.

The memories of Vietnam seemed so fresh. He had returned to Saigon in September of 1970 a few months after Paul’s death. He looked forward to leaving Vietnam for the last time. He and Olivia would be going to Germany. Now he would finalize his MACV responsibilities in Saigon and this time he wouldn’t have to deal with Lia; he had gotten rid of her just in time.

He was shocked when he returned to the embassy compound to find an angry T. R. Perkins packing his office getting ready to leave.

“What’s going on, T. R.? Are you really retiring?” Brad asked incredulously.

“Retiring, hell, I’ve been fired!” He spit the words out with acute intensity. “They call it retiring, but I know they’re pulling my ticket.”

“Fired—why? What’s happened? I heard that someone killed Lia Duprè,” Brad declared innocently.

“That’s right, Coleman, someone did and I still can’t believe it. Her family is devastated. We, her dad and I, sure as hell looked for whoever did it, but in the meantime I found out that she really was a damned spy. She had been passing information to the Russian Commies… so maybe one of them shot her.”

“How did you find that out… what convinced you she was a spy?” Brad asked inquisitively.

“Phillip Durkan caught her. He found out she had some major ties in Moscow as well as Hanoi. Durkan is a good man. They wanted him to fill in until H-Q assigns someone else to take over for me, but he said no. I think he’d really rather stay in the field and not be tied to a desk. He always reminded me of a caged cat after a few days in the office.”

Perkins continued, “Oh, yeah, you might be interested to know that the body you took back to the states might not be Thayer.”

“What are you talking about, T. R.? Did Durkan tell you that too? Who do they think it was and if true where is Paul Thayer?” Brad was stunned.

“Yeah, Durkan did tell me that. We don’t know the answer to either question. Thayer took orders from someone in the Pentagon and they didn’t bother to let our office know who. I have a hunch he and Kelshaw were hooked up with the same gang and probably with Neil Klein too.

“Word is that a high level Soviet General was looking to defect. Apparently somebody didn’t think my office should handle it… maybe Klein; I think he’s a climber… wants the recognition and you can bet your ass he knew who, where and what was coming down. I was really pissed-off for awhile. Now I say screw ‘em; I don’t need the goddamned cloak and dagger crap anymore!”

Perkins went on, “Oh yeah, about the guy that bought it in the car bombing, personally, I think it was an AWOL S.O.B, Bos Anderson. He was a low-life enlisted type that the Navy hadn’t weeded out. He got a scratch on a routine river mission and afterwards told a corpsman that he could make more money and have more fun in the black market and that no matter what, he wasn’t going back to combat.

“But who knows, Coleman? Maybe it was Thayer in the car after all. Anyway, good luck, Colonel; maybe our paths will cross stateside,” T. R. philosophized as he threw the last bit of paraphernalia from his desk into a box.

“Where’s Durkan now?” Brad queried.

“Who knows? I don’t know and I don’t care,” Perkins responded lightly. “I just want to pull my stuff together and move outta’ here. It’s been fun, but the fun’s done,” he quipped.

Brad offered, “I’m getting my ‘stuff’ together to go home too, T. R. and I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been here too long.”

Sunday, September 28, 1980

Arriving at St. Mark’s shortly before services were over; Andrew had found a parking place close to the front of the Cathedral. While he waited in the car for Charlene, he pondered his and Jack’s conversations of yesterday. He thought about the listening device in his apartment, wondering what information had been heard. He and Jack had covered a lot of ground. What had Jim said? “Very sophisticated devices…”

His thoughts focused on Jack. He was seeing Jack in a different light. He was sure Hubbard was experiencing some sort of burnout, but the drinking was just a symptom of something much deeper. He hadn’t heard the rest of the story of Jack’s time with Kelshaw. He resolved to help his friend and mentor if he could.

With a sardonic chuckle he was thinking of what an unlikely turn his and Jack’s friendship had taken when he saw Charlene coming through the front doors of St. Mark’s. She was with a crowd of people who were stopping to greet and shake hands with the priest. She warmly greeted the cleric and smiled and exchanged pleasantries with some of the other members of the congregation.

When she saw Andrew she hurried to the car and said, “Just a minute while I get my tote from my car. I thought after we had talked with Father Ben we might take advantage of the sunshine and take a walk on the beach or something. By the way, it’s good to see you, Andy.” She ran to her car and grabbed a tote bag from the back seat and rejoined Andrew.

“Sounds like a good plan,” he said pleasantly. “It’s good to see you too. Let’s see,” he said looking at his watch, “It’s about 12:15 we have some time if you’d like to have lunch now.”

“Definitely, I’m starving,” she said cheerfully. “But I am holding out for a walk along the beach later unless you and Mr. Hubbard have another session scheduled for today.”

“Oh, no, no, Jack needed some time to regroup and then he was going to get together with a couple of the news editors today, socially I think. Besides, I needed to see you. We have a lot to talk about.” He took her hand and held it momentarily before backing out of the parking space and leaving St. Mark’s.

Over lunch he told her of Jim’s visit and what he had found, saving the discussion of his departure from the station until after their visit to the Center and their conversation with Neil Klein.

Promptly at 2:00 the Seamen’s Center telephone rang. Father Ben answered and spoke briefly with Neil Klein before handing the phone to Charlene. She was still dismayed that their privacy could have been violated when Andrew told her the reason for the call taking place at the Center.

Taking the phone and saying, “Hello,” she heard the familiar voice of Evan Scott responding,

“Hello, Charlene, you met me as Evan Scott, but before we go any further I want to introduce myself, my real name is Neil Klein and I am the Assistant Secretary for Intelligence and Research for the US State Department.”

A moment of silence was followed by, “Oh so that’s who you are. Thank you for telling me. Why the call, Mr. Klein?”

“I have some things to tell you and I want you to listen to me very carefully. First, I want you to know how very sorry I am to keep you in the dark on some of the issues we spoke about, but for the time being it’s the way it has to be.

“You know that George Kelshaw’s death was related to his work and he was deliberately targeted.”

Charlene listened and then asked, “Of course, but what did his work have to do with me, with us? Other than Paul’s letter why are we affected by all this? And how long will this go on?” referring to the electronic surveillance.