Harry, fascinated, listened to Geoff having five Turkish bodyguards as he was the PLO’s number one target in Turkey. Like many people, she took our State Department for granted, not considering how lives could be at risk. Given the murder of Ambassador John Christopher Stevens in Benghazi, Libya, during Obama’s presidency, the dangers were apparent. What wasn’t apparent and what she was listening to was what happens when the secretary of state and then the president do not correctly evaluate information from abroad. The first step was that U.S. diplomatic efforts were weakened or undermined by enemies. The worst outcome was death.
Fortunately, few people in the foreign service are killed, but one receives postings and must go. A posting to Russia proves quite different from one to France. Both are vital.
Harry realized how naive she was.
Jan, wonderful to look at, was telling the group how the public and private sectors can cooperate. The leadership starts with the president.
“For instance, and I bet no one knows this except for Geoff and me, it was President Nixon who brought together the private and public sectors. He considered it important and part of our education. I wasn’t in service then, obviously, but I stepped into it as a young woman. A person like the president of Westinghouse might be sitting next to a senator from Utah. I always thought of it as cross-fertilization. Nixon would have meetings and he used state dinners to good effect. The big prize was a private lunch with him.”
“Good things.” Mary Reed smiled. “Don’t you think plenty of good things are still happening? The media focuses on the bad?”
“Fundamentally this is a Puritan society.” Susan, the history major, threw this out. “Bad news sells. Cromwell proved that.”
Everyone started talking at once.
Harry leaned toward Arlene, an old friend of the Ogdens. “Arlene, how did you meet the Ogdens?”
“They were back in Washington when I was at the Agency. The secretary of state’s office is on the seventh floor of the Harry S. Truman Building and I’d see Geoff in the elevators because sometimes I was called out there. We got to talking after many trips and I found out he foxhunted; he found out I beagled. Then he, Jan, and I hunted together. I’d follow the foxhounds by car. They’d join in on the beagling and basseting, and that’s how we all met Mary Reed. A former Vietnam combat helicopter pilot, Al Toews, was Master and huntsman of Ashland Bassets then, a big, tall—and I mean tall—fellow. What fun we had.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Al died of a heart attack on December twenty-first. I remember because it’s the winter solstice. Unexpected. Everyone came through, as you would expect. The hunting world is tight. Mary then took over. The club supported her, but what a shock.”
“I can imagine. It’s odd, isn’t it, how big and strong men are, but they go first. For the most part they do.”
Arlene nodded. “My mother used to say God gave women something extra.”
Harry laughed. Hours passed before anyone noticed.
Finally, Rachel couldn’t help herself as she asked Mary, “Nothing about Jason?”
“It is disturbing.”
“Murder is.” Geoff Ogden flatly spoke. “As the senior officer here,” he said with a smile, “I’d advise you all to have security.” He tapped the table with his forefinger. “You never really know, and both covered some sensitive areas.”
“Will you be here for the Hounds for Heroes?” Mary inquired.
“We’ll certainly try,” Geoff replied.
Harry sidestepped the Jason issue to ask Geoff, “Did you ever lose anyone in service?”
A silence followed this. “I’m not sure.”
All eyes turned to Jan and him.
Jeff Walker, Amy’s husband, a man who had spent time in Nepal, had a grasp of, if not foreign service, at least what can happen when one is immersed in another culture and another language. “That’s enigmatic.”
Geoff Ogden paused, his distinctive voice low but clear. “When I was in Istanbul I had an M.C., a minister counselor, Paula Devlin. A career officer, obviously. She’d spent four years in Helsinki, two in Cape Town, said it was beautiful, and another two in Vienna before being posted to Istanbul. Her specialty was economic development and the Turks needed that. She spoke good Turkish and worked well with her Turkish counterpart.”
“What happened?” Rachel wondered.
“That’s just it. I don’t know.” He looked to Mary.
“She hunted with Ashland Bassets after she retired. She and Al were great pals.”
“And?” Everyone looked at Mary.
Mary thought a moment, then spoke. “Al swore she was CIA. As a combat officer he had a nose for things. Like he could tell even before he was told if another person had seen combat. I don’t know, it was a sixth sense. And he seemed to have it about the CIA. Paula disappeared. Vanished. Not a trace.”
Jan added, “Apart from being a good Master and huntsman, Al did possess a sixth sense.”
“What did you think?” Arlene asked Geoff, adding, “I knew her from hunting. We discovered we both worked for the government. We didn’t usually discuss work. She asked me once about being wounded but we clicked. She was a lovely friend. We also talked with Clare about her shipboard days in the Gulf of Finland. She was a Russian expert and would listen to Russian chatter. For three women, and it was tougher then, we had good careers.”
“In any embassy or consulate there are CIA people. There have to be. And there are some telltale signs. They have money. Never run out. Maybe not lots of money, depending on their job, but money. If they are operating inside our borders, they usually have a business front. There are times when they can be opaque. If you’re smart, you don’t ask too much, women or men. For one thing, most government employees can’t tell you the truth.” Geoff looked outside the window into the darkness. “Still raining. Well, the ground should be good for the fundraiser.”
“Hope so.” Amy stood up as the others followed.
Rachel then asked, “No one ever found Paula?”
Jan said, “She didn’t come home. Her neighbors in Hume noticed. No sign of her. Just poof.”
Geoff added, “Her little dog didn’t come home either.” He held the chair for his wife. “Everyone got their umbrella?”
—
Back at the cabin, Harry and Susan took off their clothing. Harry snuggled into her comforter, Susan into her sleeping bag.
“Make room for me,” Pewter demanded.
Harry patted a place for Pewter and one for Mrs. Murphy. The dogs stretched out in front of the fire, which Harry had fed.
Ruffy slept with them.
22
October 1, 1787
Monday
Charles West designed and had a bench built so his wife and sister-in-law and whomever could quietly view the mountains and Isabelle’s lovely monument. Apart from Charles’s excellent education, the Baron had sent his sons on a Continental tour, considered vital for a young man of means. And so it was for Charles, who absorbed everything, most particularly loving Italy. Dutifully, he went into the Army, but he was an artist. No wonder he loved this new nation, for he could be what he was born to be.