“Sister Ruth smiled at the lovely dark haired woman in front of her and said, “Yes, indeed I am and welcome! Do come in and I will tell Charlene that you are here.”
Hurrying up the stairs, Ruth tapped lightly on Charlene’s door, “There’s someone downstairs to see you in the parlor, dear.”
Andrew and Harry Browne were putting the finishing touches on the first part of the GCI story for the Sunday Times. Stories about GCI would ultimately occupy the nation’s news media for months to come.
The headline for the Sunday business page was ‘When Business Isn’t Good for any Country,’ By Harry Browne with Andrew Kincaid. The article began: ‘Exposing the dark side, indeed the malevolent side of business is not generally what this column does. And it isn’t often that a major international business that is thought of in terms of almost holy, large scale humanitarianism becomes the subject of this column, that is, not until today.
GCI or Global Construction International has always been controversial in international business circles. The determination of its leadership has left little doubt in anyone’s mind that GCI would do whatever GCI was contracted to do regardless of political climates, blockades, piracy or embargoes.
The GCI approach to attending to some of the world’s most devastating calamities has been to offer immediate humanitarian aid and reconstruction while world governments wrung their hands and argued over who would do what and where. The corporation has remained largely impervious to outside criticism from world governments and corporations due to its well connected international Board of Directors. This powerful group of twelve nations’ representatives, including the United States, has insulated GCI and its Swiss CEO international banker, Karel Schneiderman, from any and all attacks.
But beneath the beating heart of GCI humanitarianism there is a much darker element one that most world governments and representatives are being called upon to excise; that is the use of prisoners of war, some Americans, as slave labor in Southeast Asia.
The column continued outlining the shocking practice and the world areas where it was happening… Andrew and Harry concluded the piece and sent it forward to Joe Belmont, the editor-in-chief for final approval.
Andy yawned and looked at Harry, “Well my friend, you got your story, now let’s see what happens. By doing a three part series the dust can settle in between. I’m going home and actually put my feet up.”
Harry nodded agreement, “I’ll stick around for awhile… it will be interesting to see what happens now. You know we stepped on a few toes in our ‘sensitive text’,” he laughed then more seriously stated, “I guess from what you’ve told me, Andy, this is only the tip of the iceberg.”
“There will be more, Harry and there will probably be repercussions.”
Chapter 21
Sunday morning
October 5, 1980
It was 7:30 AM when Andrew opened his apartment door collected the Times and made coffee before sitting down with the Sunday paper. Andrew scanned the Sunday Times for his and Harry Browne’s Headline story the first of three articles on the expose of Global Construction International. It wasn’t there—Andrew went through the paper three times to no avail. As he reached for the phone it rang, “Andy, its Harry…”
“Harry where’s our story?” Andrew exclaimed.
“They killed it, Andy!” Harry sounded sick.
“What do you mean they killed it, Harry?”
“I mean the managing editor and the publisher—it was too inflammatory—that’s what they said.”
“Since when does a newspaper worry about a story being too inflammatory if it’s the truth?” Andrew remonstrated.
“Don’t ask me, Andy; we didn’t attack the Pope, I think we might have gotten away with that. There’s something rotten here, Andy, I can smell it!”
“You’re right, Harry; there is something very wrong, I think we’ve learned a lesson about power in this town. Someone has put the squeeze on, but I’m not going to deal with right it now. I’m going to pick up someone for Church.”
“Good; better say a prayer for us too, Andy; we’re going to need it!”
Andrew met Olivia Coleman when he arrived at the Convent to pick up Charlene and accompany her to St. Mark’s. He noted that the two friends were happy and comfortable in each other’s company, putting to rest his concern that Olivia’s visit might be stressful for Charlene given her encounter with Brad Coleman. In fact, watching them together he was thinking there was an element of wholeness brought about by their friendship.
Sitting quietly in the pew in the Cathedral, Andrew gave thanks that Charlene could really see Olivia. He thought about the women sitting next to him; Olivia Coleman reflected the quality of person that Charlene had described in Paul Thayer. It was that elusive substance that was the determining factor between the life of Brad Coleman and the exemplary life of Paul Thayer. Andrew understood their friendship.
Following the service Andrew said cheerfully, “I took the liberty of making a reservation for lunch at Ray’s Boat House and I asked father Ben to join us. He’ll meet us at the restaurant.”
When they arrived Father Ben was waiting for them and greeted them warmly saying to Charlene, “I assume this lady is your friend Olivia Coleman.”
Olivia smiled, “That’s right, I am,” extending her hand to Ben.
Seated at the table Father Ben looked at Andrew, “I understand from yesterday’s paper that Lyle Ramsey was found dead in his office. Is that why Jim Savalza called you and you left us so suddenly on Friday evening?” Then turning to Charlene and Olivia he said, “Forgive me, I am sorry to bring up such an unpleasant subject.”
Olivia gasped, “Dead—Lyle Ramsey of Ramsey and Carr-how?”
Andrew looked at her in surprise, “You knew Lyle Ramsey?”
“Yes, in a way; my husband worked very closely with Mr. Ramsey. We met a few times at social gatherings when he would visit Washington.”
Andrew looked at Charlene before responding, “He committed suicide, Olivia, I’m sorry,” he said with regret.
It was Charlene’s turn at surprise, “Andy, why did Jim call you?”
“Charlene,” he said uncomfortably, “Jim and I met with Ramsey earlier in the day on another matter—I can’t say anymore. I was there as a journalist seeking an interview. Remember I work for a newspaper, and as I said I can’t say anymore.”
She wouldn’t let go, “Andrew did yours and Jim’s visit have anything to do with George Kelshaw?”
“George Kelshaw?” Olivia’s hand went over her mouth, “I was at his funeral last Wednesday, with his father and his sister. Did you all know George Kelshaw?” she asked looking at Charlene, Andrew and Father Ben.
Andrew’s eyes were focused on Father Ben who would not return his gaze and busied himself with the menu and drinking his water. Finally looking up, he sheepishly met Andrew’s eyes whose expression was clear, “You got us into this, now what?”
Olivia came to the rescue by saying. “I would like to read the article if possible.”
“Sure,” Andrew nodded, “I’ll get a copy to you.”
Once again Ben avoided Andrew’s eyes as he asked Olivia, “Were you a close friend of Mr. Kelshaw’s family?”
Olivia answered, “In a way, Father Ben, old doctor Kelshaw, George’s father is a neighbor and a friend. He asked if I would accompany him to the service. He is a wonderful person, as is his daughter, George’s sister, Myra.”
Andrew was silently thinking, “Coleman had said he didn’t know George Kelshaw, but his wife would accompany Kelshaw’s father to his funeral, what a rat!” Andrew changed the subject. Looking at Ben he stated, “This is too nice a day to dwell on all this bad news, don’t you agree, Ben?” he said pointedly.