Lia moved closer, “If you knew, why didn’t you do something to stop me, Baby?” she whispered huskily. “You and I both know why, don’t we?” she said as her hand caressed his thigh. “I told you before that it isn’t going to end unless I want it to and I don’t! Get used to it, Colonel Baby, I’ll be waiting when you get back… taking care of Paul Thayer was my pleasure,” She laughed.
“Brad had stopped the car. She saw the gun in his hand and began pleading. “No, Baby, no! You don’t want to do this. I won’t bother you more… please, please don’t.”
“Get out of the car,” he demanded angrily, “Now! I’ll be doing my country a favor. Go on get out!” She shook her head defiantly. Not waiting, he fired… the bullet entered her left side and her eyes widened in horror. She slumped as Brad reached across and opened the door and pushed her out. Getting out he walked around the car to where she lay on the ground; standing over her he muttered, “We could have ended this another way, but you wouldn’t listen, you stupid…” He fired again and prodded her body with the toe of his boot.
Lia lay crumpled in the red dirt at the side of the road. He fired once more saying, “That one was for Paul,” then Brad calmly returned to Saigon. He needed a shower and good night’s sleep before leaving with Paul’s body the next day.
It was after 10:00 PM when Brad drove into his driveway in Alexandria. He couldn’t put Olivia off any longer. “Maybe she’s gone to bed,” he said to himself.
Opening the front door he saw a light from a door ajar in the den.
“Is that you, Brad?” she called out.
“Yes Olivia, dear,” he said opening the door. He saw a small fire burning in the fireplace. Olivia was seated in a comfortable leather chair close to the fire. Her hair was loose like she worn it when they first met. He thought how really lovely she was. “You waited up… I’m sorry to be so late, but it was unavoidable.
“She nodded understanding, then said, “Sit down, Brad. Would you like a drink? I’m going to have one.”
Brad was surprised, his wife rarely decided to imbibe alone. He quickly moved across the room to a small bar saying, “Stay seated, I’ll fix us one; what would you like?”
“Bourbon and soda will be fine for me,” she said softly.
Brad prepared the drinks and handing her one he said lightly, “All right, my dear, you have some questions. I’ll be glad to clear up anything that I can, to ease your mind.” Brad took a long drink and waited.
She smiled, “Thank you, Brad. I want you to tell me about the letter from Paul that Charlene received and then I want you tell me about George Kelshaw. Most of all I want to know why you felt you had to lie to me.”
Brad was ready with his reply, “The problem Charlene called me about was a letter from Paul, but it was a letter written about a year after the car bomb that we assumed killed Paul in Saigon.
“At first I didn’t believe it could have been authentic and I didn’t want to upset you, but I have since have found out that it is. It was not Paul that was killed; he died on a black mission and no one knew.”
Olivia gasped, shocked to hear about Paul. “Wha-what about George Kelshaw?” she stammered. “Charlene told me he had been murdered in Seattle.”
Brad was rapidly thinking on his feet. “George Kelshaw apparently got to Seattle on a freighter from Southeast Asia. He was attacked and killed before anyone could speak with him. The Seattle Police Department ruled it as a robbery/homicide by persons unknown. Kelshaw was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Why did you lie and tell Charlene and me that you didn’t know George Kelshaw?”
“What did Charlene tell you?” Brad sounded annoyed.
“Never mind, Brad… I’m asking you,” she said with forced patience.
“I did know George Kelshaw, but it was unbelievable that he could be alive after all this time. The last I knew he’d been taken prisoner in Laos and we never heard more about him. When the war was over and the POWs were returned and his name wasn’t on any list, we all assumed that he was dead.
“So you see my dear, I did not lie to you. The whole story was so surrealistic that—well, Olivia you know that I am a logical, rational man. It took some serious thinking and investigating to conclude that the letter that Charlene received was genuine. We now know that it was; someone else was killed in the car.
“Now shall we go to bed—I’m very tired.”
“Thank you, Brad for your very thoroughly logical explanation… yes, it is late. I have only one more question, and then we can go to bed. Brad, who is Lia?”
Brad was stunned; he blanched, stammering, “Lia… what are you talking about, Olivia?” His mind was reeling. What could she know?
“I’m talking about the woman that you were sleeping with in Saigon. Don’t deny it, Brad, I have my sources of information. Washington and the Army are small communities and people talk; you were not exactly invisible, people know us.”
“Did Charlene Thayer tell you?”
“No, Brad, she didn’t. Does Charlene even know? Did Paul know?”
Brad sunk into a chair, shaking his head, “Paul knew. When he found out, we quarreled; he didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t think he told Charlene. I told him it was over,” Brad paused, “Why didn’t you say something?” he asked wearily rubbing his forehead.
“Because I loved you and I had decided to let it go as a casualty of war. Our time together in Hawaii was such a special healing time and I loved you enough to forgive you almost anything. But you’ve lied to me and after listening to your very logical explanation about Paul’s death and George Kelshaw, I realize I don’t know you anymore, Brad. I have forgiven you, but how can I trust you?”
“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.”