Andrew readily asked Father Lee to be his radio program guest and explain the merchant sailor’s plight to thousands of listeners. On the air Andrew found Father Ben to be both articulate and bright. He exuded uncommon compassion and dedication to his work helping merchant seamen far from their homes and loved ones.
As it turned out, the solution to the problem was relatively simple; and the flaws of inept bureaucrats, would be pointed out throughout Western Washington in embarrassingly succinct terms by Andrew Kincaid.
Three days following the broadcast, the sailor was dispatched to his ship and things were back to normal at the Seamen’s Center with the exception that now Father Ben had a new friend who would take each need the Center might have as a personal challenge.
The Seamen’s Center became a haven for Andrew when he wanted to ditch the rest of the world for a cup of not very good coffee, but excellent conversation and a chess game with Father Ben. The out of the way Center provided respite from his often punishing schedule. Over a period of more than two years and many cups of bad coffee, the journalist and the priest, became friends and confidants. Occasionally Andrew accompanied Father Ben on his visits to some of the ships when at times Ben conducted services for the crews.
Three volunteers regularly helped out at the Center each week. Sister Ruth Myers, a fiftyish member of the Episcopal Order of Saint Helena, kept the books for the center. Sister Ruth was five foot three inches tall and round. She dressed in a blue and white habit with a modified wimple that mostly covered her curly, iron gray hair. Her blue eyes were full of mischief and twinkled at a good joke, but those same sparkling eyes would snap and turn dark if anything jeopardized her work for she was deadly serious about her devotion to Father Ben and the Seamen’s Center.
Sixty five year old Byron Curtis, a retired banker, worked closely with Ruth on planning and managing the funding. A few inches taller than Father Lee, Byron was thin and round shouldered; he slightly resembled an ancient monk with a fringe of white hair circling a shiny pate. Nearly any day he could be found at the Center bent over his yellow pad of figures with arrows going this way and that on the page. Byron too, was fiercely dedicated to the Center and Father Ben Lee whom he had come to love and respect during his time there.
Davey Collins was the third and much appreciated member of the Seamen’s Center volunteer team. Davey was twenty three, had a slight developmental disability, but was able to assist in answering the telephones, stocking supplies and generally keeping the Center tidied up. He had a ready smile for all the visitors who came in and his sparkling brown eyes warmly greeted everyone making them feel welcome. He was Father Lee’s number one fan and would do anything he was asked if it was within his ability to do.
Father Ben noticed that the newcomer had finished writing letters and was no where in sight. Hoping to talk with him again before Andrew arrived, Ben looked around the nearly empty room “What happened to the man who was writing the letters over there?” he asked nodding toward the table where the man had been sitting. Davey was at the desk; he shrugged and said. “I don’t know, Father Ben, he left. Maybe to mail his letters,” he offered.
“Did he say anything?” Father Ben queried. “Wait!” Suddenly his attention was drawn to a commotion and shouts from outside the Center. Running out he and Davey saw the stranger struggling with two unknown men. The men had pinned the stranger in a recess in the wall of the building. One was attempting to immobilize him while the other wielded a knife striking the man again and again.
Ben shouted at them, “Let him go!” as he rushed to interdict the assault.
When the attackers saw Father Ben and Davey behind him, the man with the knife made one final slash before releasing the stranger. Escaping before Ben or Davey could see their faces they ran across the street into the shadows of the Alaskan Way Viaduct and were gone.
The stranger was hunched in a half sitting position on the sidewalk. It was clear he had been badly injured and as Father Ben knelt beside him he could see dark stains oozing their way to the surface of the man’s shirt. He had been stabbed several times. He was bleeding from a deep cut on his face and one hand had been slashed as he had tried to defend himself against the onslaught.
Davey ran back into the building and dialed 9-1-1. Ben tried to comfort the stranger who was attempting to speak. Davey grabbed a pillow from an old chair and hurried out, offering it to Father Ben who placed it behind the man’s head. “The ambulance is on the way,” Davey told him.
The wind and rain had stopped briefly for which Ben gave a silent thanksgiving. He laid a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder saying, “Save your strength–help is coming. Do you know who did this?”
The man shook his head adamantly, grabbing Ben’s hand. “Never mind” he choked, “It doesn’t matter.” He pushed a rumpled letter and a small oilskin packet into Ben’s hand saying, “Please get this letter to Mrs. Thayer… package to Kincaid,” he gasped. “I… I must talk to Andrew Kincaid. Please,” his voice trailing off.
Ben patted his shoulder and nodded saying,” Don’t excite yourself, please try to stay calm… I will go with you to the hospital. Don’t worry I will take care of everything.”
The police had arrived and an officer was standing by as the medics worked to stabilize the victim, Ben looked at the now blood smeared package and the letter in his hand and realized that he must let Andrew know what had occurred. One of the officers had drawn Davey aside and was questioning him. Ben pocketed the items and moved to intervene for Davey.
“Excuse me officer, I am Father Ben Lee from the Center. I promised that I would accompany the man to the hospital and I will need Davey inside the Center while I am away. Could I answer your questions at the hospital?” Turning toward his young volunteer he said, “Davey, come with me.” Leading a slightly crestfallen Davey, he quickly stepped back into the Center where he telephoned leaving a message for Andrew to meet him in Emergency at Harborview Hospital as soon as possible.
Addressing Davey in a gentle tone he said, “Davey, I know that you were giving the officer important information and I apologize for taking you away like that, but you see I need to have you close the Center and lock it for me tonight; Sister Ruth and Byron will not be back from their meeting. Can you do that?”
Davey couldn’t believe his ears. Father Ben was asking him to be responsible to lock up the Center. Davey nodded “yes” and threw his arms around Father Ben in an appreciative hug.
8:30 PM
Sitting alone in a corner of the waiting area at the hospital, Father Ben quietly prayed and mulled over the events of the day. His thoughts were scattered. What connection could this man possibly have with Charlene Thayer? Is it the same person he knew through the Church and Center? Of course it is—it has to be, but how? What and how does this man know about Andrew?
Ben’s thoughts were sharply interrupted by Andrew.
“Ben, you scared the hell out of me! I thought something had happened to you. Who’s here?”
“Andrew,” Ben announced calmly, “The man I talked to you about was set upon and stabbed this evening right outside the Center. Davey and I frightened the attackers off, but not before they had hurt him badly.”