While Rome Was Sleeping

by M. S. Forsythe

  “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 Dupre’?”

  “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.

  “He remembered a village where his parents had worked and made his way there on a chance that someone would have knowledge of them. George’s language skills were one of his best assets. The Laotian language is very difficult, Andy, there are many different dialects and the same words have different meanings depending on the intonations. I was always awed by his knowledge and ability to speak that very complex language as comfortably as a native. Anyway, some of the older people in the village knew the name “Kelshaw” and hid him and nursed him back to health.

  “As soon as he was able, he took up the chase again and acquired a lot of information from some of the other CIA outposts. The agent he was trailing dropped off the radar for a time.

  Then he got word that someone was trying to make contact with General Vang Pao, the Hmong tribesman who had been working with the U.S. in Northern Laos. Vang Pao truly hated the Pathet Lao and the North Vietnamese. George was worried; he knew if the wrong guy could locate him, Vang Pao’s days could be numbered too.

  “He figured the agent he was trailing had made his recent contacts in Vientiane so that appeared to be the best jumping off point for his next move. That’s where I came in.

  “George wanted me to guarantee the delivery of the information he collected, to Neil Klein, in the event that something should happen to him. He was counting on my ability as a correspondent to send communications without being intercepted, and/or to get word to the ambassador in Vientiane if necessary. I told him I would do it. He agreed to my terms,” Jack paused.

  “Go on,” Andrew urged. “What happened next?”

  “George arranged a contact with Vang Pao, and they agreed to a meeting place near Sam Neua right in the middle of enemy territory. George had a map of villages and a mental list of persons who he had been told he could trust, who would help him.

  “I know that I complicated his life; George was built slighter than I, not to mention the difference in our heights, and I know that I slowed him up. He moved through the jungle with the ease of a native. I felt like a giraffe traveling with him. Plus, I didn’t understand any of the language other than a few words here and there. He was good at finding trails and avoiding the Pathet Lao and the NV guerillas; I spent a lot of time hunching along behind, trying to make myself less visible.

  “It was amazing, moving around that country with George. He could tell just by observing a village for a time, whether or not it was safe for us to enter. It was uncanny, when we would finally enter it, George would seek out the oldest inhabitants and before long they were old friends. Occasionally, we would find a village elder who remembered George’s parents. It was like that until just before we got to Sam Neua,” Jack said thoughtfully.

  “We had come to the rendezvous point where we were to hook up with Vang Pao’s people, and suddenly we were looking into the muzzles of five North Vietnamese weapons pointing at us. George started talking and gesturing, telling them that we were journalists and were lost. It was silly, he knew arg
uing was hopeless...they kept shouting in Vietnamese, “CIA and something else that I couldn’t understand. George kept telling them, “No, no, Journalists, news correspondents,” over and over. The long and the short of it was that they didn’t believe him or didn’t care and they were getting madder by the minute. I remember saying to George, “Let’s just do as they say!” I was scared.

  “They kept prodding us with their weapons and gesturing for us to start walking down the trail. So we did; we‘d gone about fifty yards and there were shots. At first I thought we’d bought it—we dove into the jungle beside the trail. When we looked, the North Vietnamese troops were dead and we were surrounded again, but this time by Vang Pao’s men.

  “George looked at me, I think I must have been shaking all over like a leaf, and he calmly asked, “Is this enough adventure for you, Hubbard?” Then he laughed.”

  “With you gone from Vientiane with Kelshaw, what happened with the Peace Negotiation assignment?” Andrew questioned.

  The phone was ringing, he frowned, hesitating to answer it before Jack could respond, but reached for it and reluctantly said, “Hello.”

  “Hi, Andy, it’s Jim. I’ll be in your neighborhood in about ten minutes. Meet me downstairs, I’m on a short leash and haven’t time to park and come up. It’s Saturday, you know. I’m on my way to a Scout thing for one of the kids, but I have this present to deliver to you, so I’ll put it in your hands and go on my way. Okay?”

  “Fine.” Andrew responded. “I have a friend here with me, so a drive by will work perfectly.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Andrew told Jack. “I have to meet a guy downstairs who has something for me,” he said vaguely.

  An unsmiling Detective Savalza was standing at the entrance by the time Andrew opened the front door of the apartment house. “You’re here already! That was fast. What do you have for me?” Andrew asked, noting Jim’s frown and the empty hands.

  Jim said grimly, “Here’s your present. We did the sweep of your apartment and Ms. Thayer’s house. There are taps on your phones and there are also some very exotic listening devices in each of your homes. In fact, the guy who did the sweep said the ‘stuff’ is so sophisticated that whoever has access to it would have to be connected to, or be part of a high level intelligence agency.” Lowering his voice, he asked with urgency, “Andy, for crying out loud, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  Andrew shrugged, “I don’t know, Jim, but I’m working on finding out. Thanks for the report. I’ll talk with Charlene later and I’ll be in touch with Evan Scott also, by the way, Scott’s real name is Neil Klein.” He was thinking about his and Jack’s conversations of last night and this morning, and wondering who might have been tuned in.

  “Neil Klein, uh huh, okay, take care of yourself, Andy. If you need anything, holler,” Jim said as he walked to his car.

  Sticking his head in the door of the apartment, Andrew motioned for Jack to follow him. He led the way to the elevator and pushed the button to the garage. On the way down Andrew explained the reason for Jim’s visit and the sudden change in his behavior.

  Jack commented, “I wonder who you’ve ticked off so much that they want to hear every tiny little word, Andy. This has got to be linked to Kelshaw.”

  “Probably and there is one person I can think of that just might fit that profile,” Andy said.

  Jack offered,” Before we get back to your pad, in answer to your question about the assignment, as it turned out the experience with Kelshaw became far more relevant than any possible source of coverage on Peace Negotiations in Vientiane. But we’ll have to go into that later.”

  Andrew nodded, “We will, I want to know all about that, but right now I’d better make a few calls.”

  ✽✽✽

  Washington, D.C.

  Saturday afternoon, 4:30PM

  When Brad’s plane landed in Washington, he anxiously looked for Olivia at the gate, but as he entered the terminal he was intercepted by his DIA aide, Lieutenant John Carswell, who handed him an urgent message. As she hurried toward him, Olivia saw the officer hand Brad the message and noted the look of anger and then concern cross his face as he read it.

  Seeing her he quickly forced a smile and opened his arms to warmly greet her, “Olivia,” he started to kiss her, but she turned her cheek to his lips. “It’s so good to see you, my dear,” he said attempting to overcome the chill.

  “How are you, Brad,” she asked coolly. “How was your flight?” She restrained herself from asking about the exchange with the aide.

  “Fine; Olivia, please...my dear, let’s not have this kind of unpleasantness when I arrive home,” he pleaded. “Please.”

  She sighed, “I’m sorry, but sadly too much has happened that must be addressed before the ‘unpleasantness’ will end, Brad. When we get home we have to talk. There are serious questions that must be answered.”

  “Yes, Olivia, you’re right; we do have to talk and I promise you all of the questions will be answered to your satisfaction. But it will have to wait. An urgent matter has come up and I must take care of it. I will have John take you home and I will drive myself to the office and be home as soon as possible. This should not take long. I promise we’ll talk just as soon as I get there and for as long as you want.” He kissed her cheek and instructed Carswell to escort Mrs. Coleman to their home.

  Brad’s attempt to exude the old self-confidence he often used in dealing with Olivia’s doubts or concerns felt hollow. He was having trouble convincing himself. The message his aide had handed him was from Dolliver reporting conversations picked up in Andrew Kincaid’s apartment between Kincaid and Jack Hubbard the night before and earlier in the day.

  In his office Brad quickly returned Dolliver’s call. His anxiety level rose hearing the content of the recorded conversation. His own name connected with Lia Dupre` had been a major topic in their talk together.

  He listened to the information about Kelshaw and Thayer and the plan to get Chernakov. Kelshaw had told Hubbard what had happened to Chernakov and Thayer. Brad learned that Neil Klein was still a player in the Kelshaw matter. He was now certain that whoever Evan Scott was, that he must be connected to Neil Klein.

  Brad intensely disliked Neil Klein and those of the State Department hierarchy who had continued to declare a “cover-up” regarding the Southeast Asia prisoner exchanges and MIAs. The controversy with Klein over POWs continued even now. His investigations and probing had caused a major problem with key senators in voting money to help rebuild North Vietnam.

  Brad’s apprehensions were further raised knowing that now Neil Klein was in contact with Andrew Kincaid. This knowledge heightened the fear that Kincaid along with Charlene Thayer would continue to probe into matters that could ultimately be disastrous for him. How much they already knew was unsettling.

  Ramsey had been badly mistaken. Kincaid had interacted with Kelshaw at some point before he died. Although not mentioned, the information that Kelshaw carried must have found its way through Kincaid or Charlene Thayer to Evan Scott and most probably to Neil Klein.

  Brad couldn’t afford to allow Kincaid’s and Charlene’s probing to continue. It had now involved Olivia. It would be next to impossible to control a nosey Seattle newspaper columnist and a woman determined to uncover a ten year old mistake. He knew it wouldn’t stop there. The potential of discovery could cost him everything.

  “Dolliver, we don’t need any more information. I want this taken care of immediately and finally. You know what has to be done.”

  “What about Hubbard, Sir?”

  “Not yet—just the first two.”

  “Yes Sir, it will be done as soon as possible, Sir”

  “I’m counting on it,” Brad said confidently.

  ✽✽✽

  It was late when Brad left his office in the Pentagon and he was tired as he started home to Alexandria. He dreaded facing Olivia. He hoped she would be in bed.

  On the drive, remembrance of Vietnam was once aga
in magnified in his mind. The headlights of the car caught an object on the edge of the roadway, startling him. He quickly recognized it as a rolled piece of plastic and cardboard that probably fell from some passing vehicle but it caused an image to flash into Brad’s mind of a body, that of Lia lying on the road to Bien Hoa. He swerved and missed hitting it, but it threw the memory front and center before his eyes and it sickened him. “I was a fool,” he said to himself.

  ✽✽✽

  Brad had been sexually addicted to Lia Dupre‘ he couldn’t help himself. Her artistic and rapacious love-making totally controlled him. When he was away from her he couldn’t think of anything else. By the time Brad found out that Lia was heavily involved in the Communist Peoples Liberation Party in Saigon it was almost too late to extricate himself from the affair. She had used her influence with CIA Station Chief T. R. Perkins and Brad to learn much about American operations in the area.

  At first he told himself that Lia might have been innocently duped by misplaced loyalties, but as subtle bits of information shared while in bed with Lia became known to the Viet Cong, he realized that this was a dangerous liaison.

  He remembered a meeting with George Kelshaw and T. R. Perkins discussing security breaches and an unofficial CIA watch list that had included Lia’s name. The list was the topic of a heated argument. T.R. adamantly insisted that Lia was not a security threat; that she was his right hand and he would trust her ‘with his life’. Kelshaw argued that too much evidence clearly proved otherwise. Brad had remained uncomfortably quiet, commenting only that further information had to be gathered before the list could be acted upon.

  The last straw was the discovery of a Viet Cong listening post outside Army Headquarters at Than Son Nhut Airport. Its discovery was discussed at a briefing with T. R. Perkins, Brad and George Kelshaw. Kelshaw made it clear that he believed Lia and her cohorts were behind its placement, in spite of T. R.’s objections. Kelshaw and Brad now knew that Lia had been passing damaging information to the enemy on a regular basis.