In June 1969 Charlene flew to San Francisco and met Paul as he came in to Travis Air Force Base. He was to be home for one month. At first they had some wonderful times; it was the old magic of just being together. But underneath there was a dark current.
He was different—often preoccupied. He slept poorly; sometimes she would wake to find him out of bed standing by the window or wandering through the house in the dark. If she asked what was wrong, he would simply say he drank coffee too late or that he wasn’t really tired. Or maybe it was the jet lag and he was adjusting his circadian rhythm. He would try to keep it light and gather her in his arms and they would make love and everything would be all right for a short time. But it wasn’t all right; she knew that now.
She said goodbye to him at McChord Air Force Base for the last time… the memory was so vivid. There was an unspoken fear that came over her. She had not remembered it until Evan Scott talked of the assignment. Did Paul know then? It didn’t matter anymore. The assignment must have taken Paul to Laos in order to meet Chernakov…
Evan was saying, “We needed good intelligence on what happened at Site 85 and it was a perfect cover for George and Paul to go to Laos; once there, Paul was to go on to a predetermined spot to meet Chernakov. From there the picture goes dark—you have more information in your letter about your husband’s last hours than we have, Charlene.
“I can tell you this; George Kelshaw received word of what had happened to Paul and the General. After some time he was able to contact us periodically. I am not at liberty to tell you how that came about. What is important for you to know is that George made it a personal undertaking to discover who betrayed Paul and Chernakov and the mission. Remember, George was a target as well, so there was personal risk.”
“Who?” The question was on each of their lips.
“We truthfully don’t know who betrayed them, only George knew,” Evan told them. “And whoever it was is still out there. You must, for your own safety, not discuss this with anyone. We have information now that I believe will tell us who we’re looking for.”
Father Ben asked softly, “I was wondering if you can tell me how Mr. Kelshaw was connected to a man from Yencheng, my village in China, whose name is Lu Chan? Mr. Kelshaw mentioned him in his letter to me.”
“I’m sorry, Father Ben—I can’t tell you. But as this all unfolds perhaps you will learn the answer to that question,” Evan promised.
“We may have an answer to one question sooner than you think, Mr. Scott, at least about the discrepancy in Paul’s death,” Charlene offered somewhat hesitantly. “You see, when I received this letter from Paul, I didn’t know what to think. I had to have some answers. So I called the only man who would know; he was Paul’s closest friend and had accompanied Paul’s body home. I called General Bradley Coleman. I felt that I should call Brad and see if he could help sort this situation out.”
Evan cleared his throat and nodded his head in understanding.
“Were you able to speak with the General about this?”
“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?”