Epilogue

  Bemus Point NY

  On a stunningly beautiful sunny afternoon in early fall, Shawn pulled his new white Mustang convertible into the small gravel parking lot of the bed and breakfast on Lake Chautauqua just outside of Bemus Point, NY. There were no parking spaces left in the parking lot, so he pulled into the grass, where a roped-off area held about thirty cars with license plates from all over the country. Shawn found an open spot next to a late-model silver Mercedes and pulled in next to it. He got out, looked at the old Victorian bed and breakfast, and was surprised by its size. Then he recalled Jesse telling him about the old home and all the work he and his parents had done to restore it, yet it was nothing like he imagined it would be. It was big and beautiful. The home looked like it had been freshly painted in three shades of various earth tones.

  The convertible top was down, and Shawn reached into the back seat and grabbed a decorative box containing some very old and expensive whiskey. He took a few steps, then stood and gazed in amazement at the manicured grounds swarming with people of all ages. His ears were filled with the sounds of ragtime music as an all-male quartet dressed in the 1920s period played on a sheltered bandstand not far from the lake. A dozen tables had been set up with white tablecloths filled with ribbons and flowers. Protecting the partygoers from the sun were brightly colored umbrellas perched above each table with ribbons on each outside point fluttering in the light breeze. The smell of meat cooking over charcoals whiffed into his nose, and he spotted the source. Several men wearing lone white aprons were basting a pig, slowly turning over a bed of coals not far from a buffet table filled with food. Down by the lake, he spotted canoes, kayaks, paddle boats, and a large dock with several boats moored to it.

  Shawn turned when he heard the sound of a car engine as it approached and parked next to him. As the car passed, a beautiful young woman wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap with a blond ponytail sticking out the back smiled and waved at him. Shawn guessed her to be in her early to mid-twenties. Sitting in the passenger’s seat next to her was an equally handsome blond man of approximately the same age with a short military haircut and the same smile. The two got out and approached him. The pair looked like they could be Icelandic models. In fact, their mother was from Iceland. The woman wore navy blue tennis shorts and a simple white cotton blouse. Her tall, well-tanned, shapely body accented her simple attire and blond hair perfectly, and Shawn found himself smiling at her as she approached. He paid little attention to the tall, very fit man carrying a bag of groceries that followed behind her.

  "Hi there…I assume you are here for the retirement party?" the lovely young girl asked.

  "Yes, I am."

  The young woman extended her hand and said, "I'm Stephanie Taylor, and this is my brother Joshua."

  Shawn reached out, took her soft hand, gently squeezed it, and looked into her big blue eyes and flawlessly smooth olive shin.

  "I'm Shawn Harris, and I'm very pleased to meet you. Your daddy never told me he had such a beautiful daughter."

  Stephanie's cheeks turned a shade of red, and she lowered her gaze to the ground for an instant.

  Joshua came alongside his sister, and he offered his hand.

  “It’s a great honor to meet you, sir. My father speaks very highly of you.”

  Shawn grinned, pulled Josh closer to him, and said in a lowered voice, “Well, don’t believe all the blarney that old bastard tells you.”

  “Is that your Shelby convertible?” Stephanie asked.

  “It’s only mine temporarily. I had my attorney purchase it from the Ford dealership in Jamestown, and the salesman delivered it to the Chautauqua County airport about a half hour ago when I arrived.”

  “That is one beautiful ride. You know that’s one of my dad’s favorite cars. He told us he had a 1966 Mustang convertible when he was young, and he was always sorry that he sold it,” Josh said.

  “Well, it seems I heard the same story once or twice myself,” Shawn said with a slight chuckle.

  “But this Mustang has more than three times the horsepower your dad’s six-banger had in his.”

  "Well, you certainly bought yourself a very nice car. I'm sure my dad would love to drive it sometime," Stephanie said.

  "Well, since I bought it for him as a retirement gift, he'll have plenty of opportunity, but let's just keep that to ourselves for now. We don't want to spoil the surprise."

  Neither Stephanie nor Josh said a word; they stood looking at each other and then at Shawn with their mouths open in complete amazement until Josh said, "Are you serious?"

  "Well, it was the least I could do after he saved my tired old ass."

  Shawn noticed the bit of confusion on their faces. He finally realized they probably had no idea what had happened in Phuket.

  "You know, back in Nam."

  Shawn was taken off guard when Stephanie put her arms around him, kissed him on his cheek, and said, "Well, you certainly don't look old and tired to me, and all I can say is that you must be one very good friend. I can also tell you that he'll be totally surprised. Although I don't think he will accept such an expensive gift."

  "I anticipated that, so I had the dealership register it in his name."

  Stephanie and Josh wanted to ask Shawn what he did for a living, but neither one felt that it was appropriate, or at least not until they got to know him better.

  “As you can see, Dad’s retirement party is in full swing.” Stephanie said, “Why don’t we go and see if we can find him? The last time I saw him, he was telling war stories with a bunch of very big men that looked like hired mercs.”

  “That sounds good to me. I’m always up for a party, especially when free food and booze are involved. By the way, this place is amazing. It must be a lot of work to keep it up.”

  “You have no idea,” Stephanie said as she rolled her eyes.

  Shawn turned and looked at Jesse, who had walked up behind him between two parked cars, followed closely by a gorgeous redhead. Jesse reached out his hand and was met with the firm grip of Shawn’s right hand.

  *****

  When Cara arrived, Jesse introduced the beautiful redhead to his daughter. Stephanie liked her immediately. After a few glasses of wine together, Cara got the courage to tell Stephanie of her affection for her father and that she had loved him from the first day she had met him. And now that he was retiring, she felt her chances with him were slipping away. Stephanie was overjoyed and her heart welled with emotion. She loved her mother, but she didn’t want her father to be alone after he retired, and she knew that her father wouldn’t answer any of the dating sites she had set up for him. She asked if she had told her father of her love for him. Not getting an answer, she assumed that she hadn’t. Then Stephanie told her what to do.

  “Have another glass of wine, go and tell him how you feel, and do it now before it’s too late.”

  Cara hugged her and told her that she would.

  Half an hour later, Stephanie watched in quiet reserve as Cara approached her father, who had just left a group of men and was walking to the bar.

  “Hello, Cara. Are you enjoying the party?” Jesse asked.

  “Yes, I am. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Absolutely, what’s on your mind?”

  Taking a sip of wine and lowering her eyes, she said just above a whisper, “I really don’t know how to say this, but if I don’t, I will regret it for the rest of my life. I’m in love with you, Jesse.”

  “I have loved you almost since the day we met, and I hoped that someday you would love me. And after talking to your daughter, I see the love that she has for you…well…I even love you more. She is such a wonderful young lady.”

  Cara turned her eyes up longingly and looked into Jesse’s smiling face.

  Without saying a word, Jesse reached down, took the glass of wine from her hand, and tossed it on the grass. He then bent down, took her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly.

  Cara had her back to Stephanie, and she could see her father’s face. It became a broad smile, and Cara spoke with her head down. Stephanie’s heart started to race, and her hand went to her mouth. A tear ran down her cheek, and she witnessed the two embrace and kiss. Stephanie then wiped her tears of joy away as a large black man with a black fedora came up behind her and put his arm around her shoulder. Stephanie turned and smiled at Ken Jackson, who said, “Well, it took him long enough,” looking at Jesse and Cara in the distance.

  *****

  “Thanks for coming, Shawn. I see you’ve met my offspring,” Jesse said, beaming with pride.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. But you must have adopted these two beautiful children because there is no way that you sired them.” Shawn said as he turned and winked at Stephanie and Josh.

  Jesse laughed, and Stephanie said, “Well, I can see why you like this guy, Dad. He’s very charming.”

  “CHARMING…that’s not exactly the word I would have chosen.

  Shawn was eyeing Cara and asked, “Who’s the lovely creature next to you Jesse?”

  “This beautiful lady is a very good friend of mine. Her name if Cara Connor. Cara this is Shawn Harris. We served together in Vietnam.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Shawn.”

  “No, the pleasure is mine Cara; you have the most dazzling green eyes I have ever seen.” Shawn said grinning from ear to ear.

  “Thank you Shawn; it’s a gift of my Irish heritage.” Cara answered returning his smile.

  Turning to his daughter Jesse said; “Stephanie why don’t you and Cara get to know each other better while I show Shawn around the place?”

  “I’d be happy to daddy.” Stephanie answered gleefully.

  When the two walked off Jesse said; “Come on, Shawn, I’ll buy you a drink and introduce you to some very unsavory people…you know…much like yourself.”

  Shawn looked at Jesse with a sly grin, “Is she with you?”

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  “Well…I’m hopeful…I’ll tell you about it later.”

  As they walked to the outdoor bar, Shawn handed Jesse a gift-wrapped bottle of whiskey and said, “Oh...I bought you a little present for that drink I promised to have in the crow’s nest, or whatever it is you call it.”

  “It’s a cupola, but crow’s nest is close enough.”

  *****

  They never made it to the crow’s nest that day.

  Cars continued to arrive throughout the day as the house was filled with friends from all walks of life, primarily current, former, and retired military members who had served with Jesse. General Bennett and his new bride showed up, and Mrs. Hottie had every man drooling over her. They ate, drank, and played lawn croquet, tennis, and volleyball. And as day turned to night, they told and retold old war stories and embellished everyone, much to the delight and laughter of all.

  The party lasted well into the night until, one by one, those who were lucky enough to have room staggered up to bed while the designated drivers took the ones who were too drunk to drive to the local motel that had every room booked for the occasion; Shawn and Cara where two of the lucky ones.

  *****

  Jesse was up early to see his guests off the following morning, but Shawn slept late.

  A breakfast buffet was set up with greasy fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, sausage links, homemade toasted bread, and steaming black coffee for everyone to enjoy.

  By mid-morning, a shuttle bus from the airport transported many of the guests to the company’s Gulfstream C-137A, which would take them back to DC. The jet made three short trips that day. Others departed in various vehicles to take advantage of the beautiful fall colors as they drove home.

  Jesse asked Cara to stay for a few days so they could get to know each other better, which she gladly accepted, even though she claimed she had nothing to wear, much to the delight of Stephanie and her brother.

  Many of the same quests would pack the bed and breakfast the following spring to celebrate the wedding of Jesse Taylor and Cara Connor, as well as Shawn Harris and Kim Lee.

  *****

  The late afternoon sun twinkled off the lake's surface as Jesse and Shawn sat in the large cupola and watched the sailboats glide effortlessly over the waters of Lake Chautauqua. Jesse opened the wooden box Shawn handed him and pulled out the crystal decanter that contained the Lalique six-pillar collection of "The Macallan," a 50-year-old single malt Scottish whiskey.

  “Wow, very nice. Can I ask you what this set you back?” Jesse said as he raised one eyebrow and looked at Shawn.

  Shawn grinned and said, “I really don’t know. My attorney picked it up for me while I was in New York.”

  And that was the truth. While Shawn and his attorney were reviewing his financial statements, he offhandedly asked him where he could purchase an expensive bottle of single malt whiskey for a friend as a gift. The attorney asked about the friend, and Shawn told him about the promise that he had made back in Vietnam. The attorney immediately got up and said the gift was on him. He called an exclusive dealer of rare distilled spirits, told him what he was looking for, and gave the man his American Express gold card number. The dealer returned his call a half hour later and informed him that he had acquired the item in Chicago. The lawyer was surprised it was still available. It was the same whiskey Shawn’s father had shared with him not long before his death. Only 470 numbered decanters were available worldwide.

  “You have an attorney in New York?” Jesse said with a surprised look.

  “Long story…but yes, he recently became my attorney.”

  Shawn hadn’t said a word to him about his father or his recent inheritance.

  “Well, I don’t buy much single malt, but it looks expensive. The decanter alone looks like a piece of art.” Jesse said.

  “Well, don’t just sit there and stare at it. Open it up, and let’s see if it’s any good.” Shawn said.

  Shawn had brought two highball glasses with him on the way to the top, and he now handed one to Jesse, who then poured two inches of the expensive liquid into the glass and handed it back to Shawn in exchange for the empty one. When both glasses were filled, Jesse set the decanter down, then held out his glass to Shawn and said. “Here’s to all the brave soldiers, sailors, and airmen who fought and died in Vietnam. May they rest in peace.”

  “Amen to that.”

  After the toast, both men took a small sip of their drinks.

  “My god, that’s smooth,” Shawn said.

  “That is some pretty good shit. Your attorney has good taste.” Jesse replied.

  A few minutes later, Shawn handed the empty glass to Jesse, and without saying a word, he refilled it.

  “So are you going to finally tell me what was in the letter Jensen wrote that almost got my ass killed, or is it still classified?” Shawn asked.

  “No, I was given permission to tell you. But since I don’t have a copy of the letter, I will have to paraphrase. First of all, Clayson was able to prove that Jensen was writing the letter to his father. He looked into his father’s service records and found he was a Military Intelligence Officer during the Korean War and an expert in encryption. Jensen was confessing to his father about crimes he was involved in and that he was sorry, although he didn’t elaborate on what crimes. He then went on to explain that he witnessed several murders and that he couldn’t live with that. The letter in itself doesn’t prove much because it doesn’t name the killer or who was supposedly murdered. The real damage was the photos I found in Jensen’s camera.”

  For the next few minutes, Jesse explained how he acquired Jensen’s camera, the film inside, and what the photos revealed.

  “So what you’re telling me is that the letter alone would not have removed her from office?”

  “Yes, it appears that way—not without the photos. If Sanders had turned it over to Tom Polgar, then they would have looked more closely into Jensen’s death and possibly the deaths of Senator Chandler and his staff. Then I’m sure Sidney would have been looked at very closely.”

  “And why do you think that?”

  “In his letter, Jensen indicated that he did what he did because he was in love with a woman he worked with. As you know, Sydney was the only female CIA agent stationed at Xuan Loc.”

  “Do you think she killed Jensen?” Shawn finally asked.

  Jesse shook his head, “I don’t honestly know, but after seeing the photos, I think she may have.

  After another moment of silence, Jesse said, “I got a call from the CIA director yesterday.”

  “Yeah, what did the top spook have to say?”

  “He called to wish me a well-earned retirement, but I don’t believe it was the real purpose of his call.”

  Shawn took another sip of his drink and waited for Jesse to elaborate.

  “He informed me that all the people that were involved in President Roberts’s assassination had been eliminated, but this information will never be published, and he never shared with me any of their names.”

  “What about Rakov? What happened to him?”

  Jesse slowly shook his head, “You don’t want to know.”

  “Ah yeah…I think I do.”

  “You’re not going to like this. The CIA cut a deal with him. For the information that he provided, they promised to cut him loose. And they did.”

  Shawn stared intently at Jesse; “What…you’ve got to be kidding me? I thought the bastard was wanted for murder in about twenty countries, including the United States?”

  “All I can tell you is they had to pick their poison?”

  “I understand that, but I don’t want to look over my shoulder the rest of my life looking for this guy to come back and finish the job.”

  “I don’t think that you have to worry about that.”

  “And just why is that?”

  “I had the same concern, but from what I was told, they surgically planted a tracking device in him and have him on a short leash. They didn’t want this man to disappear. He’s in Russia right now, but if he steps out of that country, he’ll be picked up.”

  “Well, that makes me feel a little better, but I still don’t trust the man.”

  “Through an anonymous source at the CIA, General Bennett was given some interesting information, which he shared with me. Apparently, Sydney’s Chief of Staff, Christopher Bell, committed suicide and left a note explaining his involvement and motives. Now, you have to take this with a grain of salt because, first of all, I don’t like notes left by dead men that can’t verify their validity. And secondly, it’s coming from an anonymous source at the CIA, whom I don’t have a lot of trust in to tell the truth.”

  “Ok, so what was in this note?”

  “Bell supposedly explained why he was involved and why he did what he did. The note said that he went along with Sydney because he was in love with her. The note also claimed that Sydney was being blackmailed into cooperating with the men who killed President Roberts. Bell claimed that these men had something that would ruin her, and she had no choice but to cooperate with them. Apparently, after she left Vietnam, she kept up her unsavory activity when she was stationed in the Middle East, which was captured on 8mm film. It appears the film was sold to a man who keeps files on many people, much like the founder of our FBI. And like J. Edger Hoover, he used all his resources to get his way. He probably had no idea when he bought the film that it would pay big dividends later. So when Sydney became Secretary of State, the man seized the opportunity.”

  “And just who is this guy?” Shawn asked.

  “That he didn’t tell me, but he did say that just one man was the mastermind and that he had very deep pockets.”

  “So we’re never going to find out who tried to kill me?”

  “Probably not, but I find it ironic that the very thing that this man was using to control Sydney was the very thing that brought him down. He didn’t count on anything else that would destroy her. That is until your file surfaced. Then he had to scramble to protect her from the same thing he was using against her.”

  Shawn got up and stretched his legs. He braced himself on one of the octagon posts that supported the roof and looked down on the manicured lawn and gardens.

  “So, who do you think killed Sydney?” Shawn asked quietly.

  “I asked Director Clayson that very same question. I didn’t expect an answer, but the answer that he gave me wasn’t what I expected. He told me that the grass and vegetation that was removed around the box that contained what was left of the rifle that killed Sydney had knitted to the surrounding soil. Tests of root growth samples from the same area proved that the box had been in the ground for at least five weeks and possibly longer. Very few people knew the dates of the trade conference or her itinerary, yet someone knew that she would be there. I don’t know why he told me this, but I suspect that he wanted to shift any suspicion away from the agency because, frankly, that’s who I suspected when I first heard the report of her death. I didn’t think they wanted to wait for her answer on her resignation. Cayson’s theory is that the man behind this felt the noose tightening around his neck and decided to cut his losses. Since I don’t know who this man is and I don’t know his motives, I can only assume that he used her for his personal or political agenda. At first glance, this makes sense. But the timeline doesn’t match what Clayson told me about the root growth. If what he said is true and I have no reason to doubt him. Then, neither the agency nor the man behind this could have planted the box in the ground because neither had a motive when the box was placed on that golf course. The agency didn’t know that Sydney was involved in Robert’s assassination, and the attacks on David Choi and General Bennett hadn’t taken place yet. Could the man have been proactive? It’s possible, but I don’t think so. He had too much invested.”

  “So, who does that leave us with?” Shawn asked.

  “The only people that knew about the trade summit dates and the golf outing on Sentosa were, of course, our State Department and the President’s staff, some members of Congress, the participants in the summit, and of course, the Singapore Officials and their security people. From what General Jackson gathered from his sources, everyone was questioned in The State Department and Singapore and cleared. That leaves the trade participants, which is a little trickier. From what I have been told, they have all cooperated except China. At this point, the FBI has no answers.”

  Neither said a word for a while. They sipped their whiskey and watched the sailboats. Finally, Shawn said, “I found out who my father was.”

  “Really,” Jesse said with a bit of surprise.

  Shawn told him everything that had transpired after he received the UPS mailer from his fathers and now his attorney. He also told him that while he was in New York City, he had made plans to liquidate all his father’s assets and give the money to various charities but mainly to orphanages, big brother programs, and exploited children’s help organizations around the globe, stating that he was happy with what he had. He didn’t need or want his father’s money. It would just complicate his life.

  As Jesse listened, he realized that Shawn’s emotional wounds were very deep, just as they were from the loss of his father. There was a question he wanted to ask Shawn, but he was positive he wouldn’t have the answer, but he asked it anyway.

  “Why do you think an obviously very successful and powerful man would have a problem with telling you that he was your father? If what your attorney is telling you is true, he loved your mother very much, and from what I can tell, he loved you also.”

  “I simply don’t know. But from what my attorney told me, the man was afraid of nothing except me. He said my father was riddled with guilt and shame for not standing up to his own father. He wanted to tell me many times, but the guilt and shame paralyzed him every time he tried. And as he got older and the years slipped by, he was just content to see me from a distance once a year at my club.”

  Jesse looked over at his old friend, held up the now half-empty bottle of whiskey, and said, “Are you ready for another refill?”

  Shawn looked at him with a sly grin and said, “Do bears shit in the woods?”

  *****

  For the next few hours the two men sat and simply enjoying each other’s company and the late evening breeze that was coming off the lake. They laughed often and talked about all the things that had formed and shaped their lives, until all the smooth whiskey had all but disappeared and the sun had finally set and the lights from the Chautauqua Institute shimmered on the surface of the water.

  *****

  Two days later, Shawn pulled his rental car into the small cemetery where his mother was buried. The weather had turned cold, and there was a threat of rain in the sky, but that didn’t deter him. It had been a long time since he had last set foot on this solemn ground. He parked his car near her grave and then stared at his surroundings. A lot of things had changed over the years. Trees, shrubs, and hedges had all matured, but he knew where to go. He exited the car with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and looked at all the grave markers as he passed them until he finally stood at the foot of her grave. Shawn bent down, cleaned the debris off his mother’s marker, and placed the flowers in front of it. For the next few minutes, he stood in silence and dwelled on the good and loving person that she was and wished she was still with him, but he knew deep in his heart that she was in a much better place. He finally thought back to the time just after he had left her final resting place for the first time, and he remembered seeing the only person still beside her grave that day.

  Now, Shawn knew that it was his father.

  He knelt beside her grave, picked a single white flower from the bouquet, and placed it on the freshly placed marker next to hers. As he did, a light rain started to fall to wash away his tears.

  Sean Patrick Kelly

  At rest beside My Only True Love