While Rome Was Sleeping

by M. S. Forsythe

  “Yes, he returned my call Sunday morning.”

  “What did you tell him?” Evan asked.

  Charlene sighed, “Actually, I didn’t say very much–I told him about the letter and that I knew it was authentic, that I recognized Paul’s writing. I told him I wasn’t comfortable talking about it on the phone and offered to fly back to Washington to meet with him. But he said he was scheduled to come out to the Coast and he would move his trip up a day in order to help me. You see, Brad and his wife, Olivia, and Paul and I once were very close friends. Paul introduced Brad to Olivia. Paul and Brad knew each other at West Point.”

  That was a piece of information Andrew didn’t have. He had been quietly listening and watching Evan’s face as Charlene told him of her call to the Defense Intelligence Agency. Andrew didn’t detect any change of expression although he did note a change in tone in Evan’s voice when he asked what she had told the General.

  “Mrs. Thayer, I understand your need to get to the bottom of the discrepancy in the dates of your husband’s death, but I am going to ask that you not share any of the conversation we have had tonight with General Coleman. You must understand that the person or persons involved in the betrayal of your husband and Pyotr Chernakov have not been identified, but we know they are very highly placed! It is imperative that no one in the Pentagon or the White House is in any way given access to the information you have received tonight. You may not believe it, but leaks from within those establishments have become relatively commonplace. ”

  It seemed incongruous that he risk so much information to the three ordinary people at the table with him; that they would be hearing something so confidential

  Evan paused and looking into each of their faces, as if reading their thoughts, he continued. “The only reason I have risked telling you this much is that you each had a link with George Kelshaw. Those links are part of a chain of information that we believe will give us the answers we’ve been looking for.”

  They were solemn as they said goodnight to Evan. He took the opportunity of a minute alone with Andrew saying, “After you take Mrs. Thayer home, please come back. We need to talk.”

  The drive home was tense.

  “Was he telling me in so many words not to talk with Brad?” Charlene asked.

  “No,” Andrew responded. “He knows that you will have to talk with Coleman about your letter and the discrepancy. You have already opened that door. No, my take on this is that he would prefer that you not talk about Paul and Chernakov or anything connected with Laos.”

  “But surely Brad would know about that... he was there.”

  “Charlene, he wouldn’t necessarily know about a covert operation that was so hush-hush that even the White House didn’t know. We need to respect Scott’s wishes on this!” Andrew said firmly. “Remember I told you that something heavy duty was going on. I think we need to be very careful. It could jeopardize Scott if we say too much.”

  Charlene nodded in agreement. All right. But Andrew, who is Evan Scott?”

  Andrew looked at her and smiled slightly. “He told you, he works for the State Department.”

  “You tell me who he works for; he is not just some State Department clerk; what office does he work in? He has some horsepower, otherwise he wouldn’t have so much information,” she insisted.

  “As far as I know he just works for the State Department; isn’t that enough for you? Here we are-–you’re home,” he announced, relieved to stop the conversation.

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek, “Why don’t you come in? I’ll make some coffee and we can talk some more.”

  He was thinking, nice try Mata Hari, invite me in to try to pry secrets, uh uh. “I’m sorry, Charlene, I’ve got an early get up and I need to go home and see if my bed is still there; after the events of last night, who knows?”

  “Are you upset about this afternoon?” She queried.

  “No, definitely not,” he said emphatically. “I thought you knew that when I told you earlier that I was sorry, I just can’t do this tonight. I really have to go.” He walked her to the door and kissed her and she returned the favor. He hurried to his car before he changed his mind.

  “Why did Klein want to talk tonight? On the other hand...”

  He found Neil waiting in the lobby of the WAC reading the Seattle Times. Pointing to Andy’s column he commented, “You have a keen and analytical mind, Kincaid. You should consider politics.”

  “Thanks, I might look at that possibility in a few years,” he said as they walked to Neil’s room.

  “Sorry to take you away from Charlene Thayer. I sense there is some interest there. Is it mutual?”

  Andrew shrugged, “Maybe. I’ve come close to finding out, but the boat always leaves without me...”

  “What’s that about?”

  “Nothing, it was a poor analogy; truth is I get just so close and then something interrupts and the moment slips away.”

  “I see,” Neil gestured to a chair and seated opposite he continued,” As I said I am sorry to bring you back here, but I want to give you a warning of concern that I have before I leave. You know that Coleman was in Saigon at the same time as Thayer.”

  “Yes,” Andrew stated. “I did know that. That’s why Charlene felt that he could help solve the mystery of the dates. Now, I have a question for you. Are you or are you not going to tell her how you knew about the discrepancy of the dates of Paul Thayer’s death? She’s counting on Coleman helping her get to the bottom of the problem.”

  “In answer to your question, no, I am not going to tell her. And as for Coleman helping her, he very well could, if he will. However, there’s a rub, he had a liaison with a woman who worked in the US Embassy in Saigon. Coincidentally it was in the same time frame as Paul Thayer’s and Kelshaw’s time there.

  “She was high on a CIA watch list. It was later confirmed that she had serious ties with Moscow and the KGB. Kelshaw knew about her and it’s a good bet that Coleman knew she was on that list as well. His job would have demanded that he be notified of any security threat. This was a very beautiful and well educated Eurasian woman. Rumor is that things were hot and heavy between them.

  “It could mean something or not. I’m telling you so that you will try to keep Mrs. Thayer from saying anything to Coleman about my visit. It would have been better if she had not discussed the letter with him, but I don’t imagine it’s possible to keep him from reading the letter.”

  “Are you suggesting that he is a suspect in what happened to Paul Thayer? Surely if he knew about a security threat he wouldn’t have risked his career on some cheap affair would he?”

  “Hardly cheap, Andrew, hardly cheap, but I won’t say anymore now; and I’m not suggesting, I’m cautioning. “Coleman knows a lot of people in Washington. We will need to unpack “Aunt Martha’s luggage,” and when we do—as I said, I believe that will help us identify our traitor.” Just now Charlene Thayer could be a weak link for us because of her connection to Coleman. Just keep an eye on her, and keep your own eyes open. Oh, I don’t have to tell you that this is off the record, right?”

  “No, you don’t; anyway don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to burst her bubble about Coleman not being perfect.” Then he added, “Before we end this conversation there’s something you should know. Savalza stopped by my place this afternoon to let me know that my apartment had been burgled by a rogue Seattle PD detective named Monte Maxwell. Savalza’s convinced that he is somehow tied to Kelshaw’s murder and probably to the deaths of the two window washers.

  “The problem is that Maxwell has gone missing, so we don’t have any answers yet. We do know that Maxwell didn’t do this on his own, which supports your theory pointing to someone large and local and possibly still watching. We just need to get our hands on Maxwell.”

  Neil had listened with interest nodding soberly, “You’d better hope he’s found soon and that he’s able to talk.”

  Andy sat thinking, how did I get into this? “What was it
I told you, Neil, about journalists being neutral? I think your point that day is well taken. I feel like I’ve invited the Trojan horse to dinner.”

  Neil looked at him and almost chuckled, “Andrew ...your analogies are truly interesting.”

  Andrew drew a deep breath. “Yeah, well you do know that I won’t be invited to any discussions Charlene will have with General Coleman? Quite honestly that suits me just fine, but I don’t think I can be much help to you on this. All I can do is reinforce what I’ve already done, which is to ask her to respect your request based on the risk you took in telling us all that you did. I doubt that I could convince her to keep the letter from him.”

  “Then that will have to be good enough.” Standing, Neil extended his hand to Andrew. “Tomorrow I will be arranging for George’s body to be flown back to D.C. and I want to thank you, personally, for everything you have done for ‘Aunt Martha’ and her nephew ‘Evan Scott’. Be careful, Andrew. If I don’t see you tomorrow, I will call you later in the week to follow up on the visit from the General.”

  ✽✽✽

  After Andrew left, Neil reflected on his time with Andrew Kincaid, Charlene Thayer and Father Ben Lee. He sighed as he reached for the telephone and dialed an unlisted number in Virginia. He would let Myra know that he and George would be home in a few days. He would go home and unpack “Aunt Martha’s luggage”.

  Chapter 9

  Tuesday,September 23, 1980

  9:30 AM

  The Kent Valley was peaceful on this sunny September morning. Joe Kearney’s 40 acres were broken into two pieces along Russell Road paralleling the Green River. Joe farmed the acreage providing produce to several of the outlets at the Pike Street Market in Seattle through the main growing season. In the fall he harvested 8 acres of pumpkins in preparation for holiday cooking and Halloween carving. The rest he gave to a local dairy farm for cow feed.

  There was little traffic on Russell Road this morning. On his way to the pumpkin field Joe drove the tractor and wagon leisurely, enjoying the sunshine and admiring the view of what open areas were left in the valley. Sadly, he knew it was only a matter of time before it all would be turned into malls and industrial complexes.

  He was watching a flock of birds circle toward the river when a shiny reflection caught his eye and vanished. As soon as he turned his head he caught it again...there it was again and then gone. Joe slowed the tractor; it seemed to be something in the river or close to the bank. His curiosity got the better of him and he decided to investigate. Stopping the tractor altogether, he hopped down; walking across the road to get a better look, he noticed the guardrail was broken and bent. Looking down from where the reflection came, he spotted the rear end of a car. The reflection had come from the sun shining on the antennae sticking out of the water...the front end of the car was submerged.

  Joe looked up and down the road for some type of vehicle to flag but he realized he was alone. Getting back on the tractor he turned around and drove back home to call the Sheriff’s Department.

  “This is Joe Kearney out here on Russell Road..., you know where the road goes by all those curves along the river? Well it looks like there’s been an accident and there’s a car down the bank in the river! And I don’t see anyone around.”

  Responding to the call, the dispatcher said, “Stay on the line Mr. Kearney; I’ll be back with you right away.” Notifying the deputy closest to the Kearney farm the dispatcher patched Joe through to the deputy who got Joe’s address and told him he would pick him up.

  When they got to the place where Joe had spotted the vehicle, both the deputy and Joe climbed down the bank to the car. It was evident that if anyone was still inside they were dead. The sheriff’s deputy took the license number and climbing back up the bank called in the number and called for a tow truck.

  A short time later King County Sheriff Dan Halverson arrived. “There is an All Points Bulletin out for a Seattle cop this car is registered to,” he said dryly. “I’ve notified Seattle. We’ll wait for the Seattle PD to get here and probably the Coroner, too.”

  Captain Martin arrived alone followed by Jim Savalza and Ed Peterson as the wrecker was pulling the car up to the surface of the road. The Coroner’s car was close behind them.

  The windshield was shattered and Monte was slumped to the side, one arm and shoulder lying over the top of his briefcase.

  Captain Martin looked dejected as he viewed the body of the late Detective Monte Maxwell. Jim and Ed were silent for a moment. The Captain gently removed Monte’s shield and the gun that was still holstered. The body was removed from the car and laid on the coroner’s gurney; the detectives could see a bullet had entered Monte’s forehead between the eyes.

  The Coroner estimated that Monte had been dead about 24 hours but told Jim and Ed, “We can’t be sure until we’ve done the autopsy.”

  Ed remarked as they went back to examine the car and briefcase, “Looks like an execution to me..., whoever did this wasn’t interested in anything in the car, only making sure Monte was dead.”

  Jim agreed, “Yeah, that’s obvious. Monte didn’t suspect anything, he didn’t even have his weapon out,” Jim observed as he carefully opened the briefcase. They found it was full of money and there on the bottom was a wide black belt coiled loosely. Ed noticed the back of the belt appeared thicker than the ends. Upon closer examination he found it to have a zippered compartment holding thousand dollar bills.

  “Whew,” Jim whistled. “Now we know why Monte swapped belts.”

  Captain Martin who had come over to look at the car and was standing next to Jim, gave a tired sigh. “Nothing more we can do here; and we won’t have the whole picture until we have the Coroner’s report. I’d better see about notifying Dora,” he said grimly. “See you back at the Department.” Removing his cap and laying it on the seat beside him, he slowly drove away. He was thinking how glad he was that no reporters were there. “They’ll have a field day tomorrow.”

  Sheriff Halverson was standing next to his car as the Captain drove past, forlornly raising his hand in a partial salute. The Sheriff said to Jim and Ed, “This is rough on you guys, and I’m sorry. Let me know if you need anything from us.”

  The sky had clouded over and there was a chill in the air as Ed and Jim returned to Seattle. Ed had been looking out the window of the car and said finally, “I feel sorry for the ‘Old Man’, but you know, Jim, in some ways maybe this is a better solution to Monte’s problems; at least Dora will not have to know about--you know, Monte being involved in stealing and all that.”

  “Yeah, Ed, and how are we supposed to avoid it?” Jim asked irritably. “I don’t like it either, but I don’t think that this is going to go away quietly. Internal Affairs is going to get into it; you can be sure of that. “The Captain isn’t going to dodge either IA or the media. If he did they would crucify him and the Department and I’ll bet money that he’s leveling with Dora right now. Did you see the look on his face as he left? He looked like someone had kicked him in the gut. I would also bet that this will go all the way to City Hall before we’re done.”

  Ed didn’t reply, just sighed and nodded as they drove into the police garage.

  Ed unfastened his seatbelt and opened the door to get out, but Jim stayed behind the wheel not turning off the ignition. “I’ll be back later, Ed. Tell the Captain when he gets in. I think I’d better talk to Andrew Kincaid and let him know about Monte.”

  Jim drove to the Seattle Times. He was sure he’d find Andrew there probably working on his Friday column. He stopped at the reception desk and Wendy looked up from her typing, surprised to see a smiling and rather attractive dark Hispanic man asking directions to Andrew Kincaid. Wendy, wanting to be diplomatic, swallowed hard before she said quietly, “Mr. Kincaid isn’t available to visitors right now, but I’d be glad to give him a message for you, Mr. ah, what did you say your name was..?”

  “Sorry, Miss,” Jim showed his shield, “I should have told you right away--now if I may see Mr.
Kincaid?” he said apologetically.

  “Oh, yes, of course, Detective, in fact I’ll take you to him myself.” Wendy fluttered eagerly.

  Andrew was at his desk, shirtsleeves rolled up, pencil between his teeth, typing rapidly; he looked up to see Wendy approaching with Jim in tow. He swiveled in his chair and rose to greet Savalza with a quizzical look. “Hi, what’s up?” He added, “Thanks, Wendy, for bringing Detective Savalza up.”

  Noticing the moonstruck look on Wendy’s face as she left he grinned at Jim, “I see you have a fan,” nodding toward Wendy. “It must be that Latin charm.”

  “Let it go, Andy, I’m in no mood... she’s just an impressionable kid...it’s the badge and all...”

  “Yeah, well, I figure I owe you after the routine of the other morning regarding Charlene Thayer. I wonder what your wife would think about you dazzling our receptionist,” Andy added with a self-satisfied grin.

  Jim came back, “I wasn’t entirely wrong though, was I? And don’t you carry any tales to Jean Ann. I can manage to get into enough hot water without your help. Look, Kincaid, I came here to give you some information and maybe even ask for your help.

  “We pulled Monte Maxwell out of the Green River this morning. He‘d been shot through the head and the car had obviously been pushed into the river. It looks very much like an execution. His .38 was still holstered and a briefcase with lots of money was on the seat beside him.”

  “Wow! Well that about wipes out all of the suspects connected with the Kelshaw killing doesn’t it? So how can I help you?”

  “I don’t know that you can, but the “you-know-what” is going to hit the fan when word gets out about Maxwell’s theft and murder. The last thing our Department wants is a cover-up, but I don’t like to see us getting a major black eye and having this turn into a political feeding-frenzy either. The press will have fun with this; of course you know all about that. There will be a lot of digging. I just thought maybe your column or radio program might, you know, bring some perspective. Captain Martin is taking this hard,” Jim said somberly.