TOSSING AND TURNING

The one thing Stan liked about being based in the Hoover Building in D.C. was that his life was more 'contained' than when he and Sandra had lived in St. Louis. Now, the commute in from Falls Church was a regular, middle-class commute.

First of all, St. Louis had only been where Stan had spent his undercover, down time. Undercover 'work', it took him all over the Midwest. All he ever did was travel. As it was, he spent his St. Louis-down-time watching TV, drinking beer while settled in his hand-me-down, deceased dad's recliner. When 'on duty' under cover, he traveled between Minneapolis in the north, Denver to the west, and Tulsa to the south. All of it in the company of restless, despicable white nationalists.

So in Falls Church, he'd tried, he really had, to engage both Sandra as well as Matthew as normal as possible on his days off - it's just that he also needed time for himself… to process all the atrocities he'd witnessed and participated in, during four years with white-power crazies.

That was also the heyday of counterintelligence, what with newly minted President Reagan declaring war on the Soviet 'Evil Empire'.

Honestly, back in St. Louis he'd not even noticed that Matthew each time Stan got home from an extended stint with crazies, had grown another hand taller… it was only when he went into the kitchen for another beer, that he noticed the markings Sandra had done on the door jamb, of Matthew's increasing height! With his son in the room, Stan's mind was always elsewhere, too much to notice his family around him.

Okay, enough of that, thought Stan. It was now December 1987, modern settled times. But his former marriage, it was now gone. He was now with Renee. Being in Falls Church was better than St. Louis, by a mile. Except for with Sandra, as well as what had just befallen him across the street with his best friend, Philip Jennings.

It was 3:17 am according to the bright red digits on the clock on Renee's side of the bed. He'd promised himself he'd be on the road to New Hampshire as soon after 5 am as he could manage. His D.C. sphere of influence had just lost containment, what with Henry Jennings up at St. Edwards school - who according to the Academic Advisor, Wanda Chu, knew nothing of what had just happened with his parents, as well as his sister down there in Virginia.

Stan peered over his wife to check the clock again - it had seemed an eternity, but the red numerals now only said 3:19 am. Lowering his eyes to his new wife, Renee, his mind raced to that other tidbit that Philip Jennings had shot at him, his best friend's final parting words…..

I don't know how to say this… but I think there's a chance Renee may be one of us. I'm not sure.

Looking at the way Renee's chest made slight heaves with each shallow breath, made Stan think of - of all people - Frank Gaad, may he rest in peace. Stan had noted the change in Gaad's 'resting face', after finding out that his secretary, Martha Hanson, had been married to an undercover KGB agent.

Stan wondered if that was his own new 'resting-face', one that Renee might find odd.

STIRRING INTO PILLOW TALK

At that Renee stirred, turned towards him while she awoke. As she reached out for a cuddle, he found himself gently sidling away, not wanting to be touched.

Not finding him near, Renee opened her eyes and said, "hey, Stan. You awake? Going to get an early start?"

"Renee," Stan said with the conviction of a fully alert voice, "me, I'm a joke. I just hope this does not effect you down at Personnel."

"Hey, hey, hey," Renee said reassuringly, as she propped herself up on an elbow. Rubbing her eyes she continued, "I know you can't say anything, but they're tearing apart the Jennings across the street. You've said nothing about Paige…. and you're driving up to St. Edwards…"

Stan put a finger to her lips to silence her, looked into her eyes and asked, not having to fake raw vulnerability, "Renee, do you love me?"

Propping herself up more firmly she answered, "wow, Stan, you've never asked me that, not like that! Of course I do!"

He said, again almost pleadingly, "I need to know." He paused, looked away, then continued, "I frittered away Sandra… and Matthew. That was all on me."

"Hey, buddy!" Renee assured, "we both have baggage. We agreed that all of that is fair game, neither of us are in a position to judge. You and me, we'll just be us, okay? Everything is on the table - it's who we are."

"Is it, Renee?" Stan asked, not really wanting to 'go there'. "There's stuff about St. Louis I've not told anyone. I still don't know much about you and Seattle."

"Don't worry about it, Stan," she calmed. "I see St. Louis in you, every day. Janine Aderholt and I, we talk. Compare notes. Trust me, Stan, you see Seattle in me, every day."

Stan, ace counterintelligence Special Agent for the FBI, had never once seen Moscow in either Philip or Elizabeth. What was he supposed to see? Other than when they met, Philip back then had driven the same make, model, and colour of car once spotted with Nickolai Timoshev.

Stan kissed Renee on the forehead, then swung out of bed.

He said, "I can't sleep, and I won't. I'm going to get a start for St. Edwards."

Stan got dressed and threw some final things into a bag. Renee, she got up, put on a robe, went downstairs and put on coffee. She made some basic white-bread sandwiches and cut up some apple for the trip. By all appearances, she was enjoying being an American housewife.

At 4:00 am she accompanied him to the parking pad where she put his consumables and a thermos onto the passenger seat where he could get them.

She noticed that he'd not kissed her goodbye, probably because of the commotion across the street. At this early and dark hour, floodlights and yellow tape adorned the Jennings. Men with boxes and trash bags were everywhere. As Stan rolled out onto the otherwise calm suburban avenue, she stood there in her robe - making a mental calculation as to how long it'd take the FBI to strip the Jennings to their wires.

Depending on what he found when he got to St. Edwards, she would not know anything about Henry until he phoned, probably late evening. She wished she knew what Stan knew about the rest of the Jennings.

She had a report to write.

PRODIGAL

Every time Henry Jennings had come over to play that card-based football game with him, Stan quietly wondered why father-son things had not turned out like this with Matthew. Or why they had not worked out that way between Henry and his dad.

Equally baffling was when Henry let on to him about his first crush. (Full transparency: Henry had never told Stan about the pictures of Sandra Beeman he'd secreted away!) That first one had been a young teacher at Henry's school, a young lady with 'big bazooms', as Henry had put it.

In his own way, Henry had even been good for Stan about Sandra. Innocent Henry had drawn it out of him, the brief history of Stan's first marriage. 'She spilled something on me, we fell in love, we married, we had Matthew, and then we divorced.' That was as short as Stan was ever to make that trauma of his - and it took young Henry to bring it out of him. At least he'd now put words to it.

"Hey, Henry," Stan had asked, "do you ever talk to your dad about this stuff?" Henry never had - there wasn't even a particular reason why he'd not. All Henry had ever said about that was, 'dad is dad'.

Now speeding north to New Hampshire, as the eastern sky brightened, Stan sipped some more of Renee's coffee, and tried to clear his head, to concentrate on the road - starting to busy itself with its own traffic.

'Okay, Beeman,' Stan said to himself, 'focus, Beeman, focus.' He rehearsed what was coming, the first few minutes after rendezvous'ing with the school's Academic Advisor, still hours down the highway.

It was now far too late for Stan to have stopped at the Hoover Building where he could double-check things, who really knew what info had been gleaned overnight. Now? All he could do now was hope, that he would make it to St. Edwards before Aderholt, back in Washington, could contact the Boston Field Office to get some agents up to Henry's school.

Stan thought, 'Jesus, I have to get that diary before anyone else.' It wasn't just Philip Jennings broadside about Renee - now there was a written record of sorts, what other things had Paige Jennings written?…. obstensively about her life back in 1984…. had Wanda Chu read potentially damaging stuff about him, Philip's neighbour? She never said. Did Henry have access to other diaries?

And what was this about a cassette tape, the voice of an old Slavic woman? An old lady speaking to her daughter…..?

'Yessirree', thought Stan, 'I have to step on it. But not so much that some humourless State Trooper pulls me over. Where's that flashing, rooftop emergency cherry when you need one!'

Stan soon had a game plan for rendezvous'ing with Wanda Chu in a few hours - IF the Boston Field Office was not there first.

WORK HARDER THAN EVERONE ELSE

While she, herself, was driving to the school for her own appointment with the FBI - Wanda Chu reflected on first meeting Henry Jennings.

It had been September 1985, thankfully St. Edwards had clamped down that year on new-student hazing. Instead, the headmaster had instituted an 'orientation week', where newbies were focused upon - each had been paired with a senior to both explain things - as well as protect them from pranks.

Henry had been paired with Vance, who himself had been from the D.C. metro-area, as well as from a family of 'limited means'. Henry, he had come a long way from those first days when he was quiet and looked like a deer in the headlights.

Henry had also been one of the few students, new or otherwise, who rarely merited a visit from family. His dad had come up once, had engaged other parents like he knew them…. which he didn't. In the years since during his academic advising sessions, Henry let on that he had not been particularly close to family. To sister, Paige, yes - but mom and dad 'were always busy'.

'My sister, Paige, she practically raised me. I spent most of my time either at school or across the street at the neighbour's. Paige got involved in a church - one of those chain-yourself-to-army-base-fences churches. There was actually no real reason to be home most days. My home is here, at St. Edwards, Ms. Chu.'

Henry had just pulled his hockey jersey on, as his buddy Mitchel came into the locker-room. "Hey Jennings," Mitchel said putting his hockey bag down in front of his cubical. "Did you steal a key to the room?"

"Don't be ridiculous, dude," Henry retorted, "you heard Gretz after the Canada Cup, when Canada, him and Lemieux - kicked Soviet butt. Gretz had said, 'there'll always be people better than you, so don't ever let anyone ever outwork you.' That's what The Great One said."

Mitchel got out his skates as two or three others wandered in. "McClain, he's probably not coming back in January. Something about his parents. The buzz is that if McClain goes, coach makes you captain."

"Don't be mental, Mitchel," Henry quipped, "I'm a junior. They don't make juniors captains."

"Well, it's what I heard," Mitchel repeated. "By the way, the phone back in residence, it lit up for you this morning. No one would leave a message."

"Was it mom or dad?"

Mitchel said, "what!? I spend my time making you look good in games, now I'm your appointment secretary?"

At that, there was a knock on the dressing room door. This was his third season on the varsity team, and Henry had NEVER heard anyone knock to gain entry. For pete's sake, it was just a dressing room!

Mitchel was still in his socks so he went over. Opening the door Henry heard his name mentioned. Mitchel turned to him, and said, "Ms. Chu, she wants to see you before practise. She'll wait for you out at the bench."

Which his where she was when Henry emerged to set foot on the ice, just as the Zamboni was finishing. Going on to the ice, then turning and hugging the boards in front of the bench, he asked her, "hey, Ms. Chu. Whats up?"

"Nothing really, Henry," she answered. She paused for a second, then said, "probably this afternoon, you'll be getting a visitor….."

He interrupted, "dad? I can't see mom coming up, that would be a first."

Chu asked, "I trust you'll be here all day?"

"That I will, Ms. Chu. Regionals are coming up, and we may be losing some seniors over Christmas. We juniors, we'll have to step up."

"Well," Chu concluded, "have a good practise. It'd be good to see St. Edwards win this year." She stood, ready to leave him to his day, a normal day. "I'll be by later this afternoon."

(to be continued…)