THE RECKONING

Henry, he doesn't know anything. (Paige)

All this time. I would have done anything for you, Philip. (Stan)

I'm just a shitty, failing travel agent. I have to abandon my son. He can't come with us because I got caught. And here we are. It's our own people, it's a bunch of fucking Russians. I wish you'd stayed with me at EST. You might know what to do here. (Philip Jennings)

You have to take care of Henry. (Paige) He loves you, Stan. Tell him the truth. (Philip)

There's a chance that Renee may be one of us. (Philip)

- crickets - (Elizabeth)

Beeman had not remembered anything on the last leg, the brief drive from Manchester to the rural St. Edwards. His mind was not conducive to driving, only once did he cross the centre-line (or was it twice?), loudly pushed back into his own lane by an oncoming horn. He'd not remembered the road, nor the vista of winter in New England.

Finally, he was brought back to reality with the image of the St. Edwards campus just ahead.

Any 'cool' Stan Beeman had brought to New Hampshire with him, abandoned him in the St. Edwards parking lot. One anonymous 'late-for-class' student was treated to the view out her 2nd storey dorm window, of a tall, strawberry-haired older gentleman booting his cookies beside his car.

The layout of the place made it easy for Beeman to recover. The driveway from the highway brought him into the centre of a giant U of buildings, with the dorms to the left, the rink and gymnasium to the right, with the main administrative building and classroom block straight ahead. Considering what he was up in New Hampshire for, he appreciated that at least the school's layout was honest and transparent.

He briefly got back into his car for some napkins that Renee had provided, as well as to check that his face was clean, that he'd not got anything on his clothes. Seeing himself in the rear-view mirror, he couldn't help but see 'the joke' that he'd become. The joke he'd been to first wife Sandra, the only one who he'd really loved. The treasonous joke which he had barely avoided being with Nina Krilova - 'avoided' in terms of his own loyalty, all that that had taken was a betrayal of epic proportions, resulting in her death.

It had been a Soviet bullet in her head, but Beeman often dreamed that he had put it there. Pushed it slowly in with his thumb.

Then there was the joke he'd become with his best friend…. okay, why was Stan fulfilling this promise about Henry for a man who'd lied to and betrayed him for the last six years?

Getting out of his car for the second time, he took a look at the rink. Henry, acc. to Wanda Chu, would be there with his buddies, practising for the upcoming Regionals. But he had agreed to first check in with the Academic Advisor in the building straight ahead. On the drive up, he had rehearsed what he was going to say to, and ask of the woman. He knew he was going to have to lean on her - all while he himself was having trouble keeping it together.

All of that was dependent, of course, that the Boston Field Office of the FBI had not got there first.

He kept forgetting. In the car he'd said outloud, "first thing, Stan, you have to ask first thing." Since Paige's garage, he now did not trust anything which came out of his brain.

WANDA CHU

Beeman must have found his way to Chu's office, because there he was sitting opposite her.

"I imagine that other FBI agents and police will be here. Soon. You may want to give your headmaster a head's up. School life will be disrupted, you and Henry Jennings will be at the centre of it. The only thing I ask, is that I can speak to Henry before all this breaks."

Chu looked confused, "I gather that all this is serious. I mean, I read snippets of the diary - I know, I know, I shouldn't have. I am sorry."

Stan thought, 'it was better that she brought it up'. He asked, "do you have it?"

She opened the bottom drawer on her side of the desk and pulled out a wrapped package. "It's right here, a diary and an audio tape."

"Ma'am," Beeman said with familiar authority which he'd played many times before, "I need to take possession of it. But I also have a request - I say this as a Special Agent for Counterintelligence, a designation that our Boston field office does not have."

"I understand," Chu replied, which she obviously did not.

"This is serious, Ms. Chu. First and foremost, you are not to lie to the FBI. That in and of itself is a crime. But….." he paused, then changed, "…. who knows you have this?"

"David Sato, our Tuitions and Billings officer, he knows I have it, but he has no idea what it is. Henry - of course - he knows. I tried to return it to him at Thanksgiving…. he didn't seem to want it."

"Okay," Beeman said, "I'm instructing you not to lie. But to answer any question they might ask, a vague one, you are not to let on that I have this. You're not to volunteer that you read it. As you'll see, this has National Security implications."

"What?" she asked, a little shocked.

"The Boston guys, they're not up to speed on this. If they ask something like, 'is there anything else we should know?' you're to respond something like, 'what have I missed?' or 'what did you have in mind?'. See what I mean? Return their question with a question."

"Shouldn't I just be up front? Like I'm being with you?" she asked.

"You are being. I can't discuss why it is essential, it's vital that you do it this way." After a wobbly start, Beeman was finding his feet.

However, after locking the package in his trunk out in the parking lot, he felt his bearings loosening.

He turned to the rink, and went in to confront Henry. Stan Beeman, the destroyer of worlds.

FIRST PERSON ACCOUNT - A LITTLE OF BEFORE, A LOT OF AFTER

Honestly? I don't remember much about it. That day was a blur. That Christmas and well into 1988 was not exactly clear either. Ms. Chu, she'd given me a blank book, a diary something like Paige's, just to jot things down. I wasn't allowed to have it in the lock-up in Boston, but when I was transferred to the Central Detention Facility in D.C. (up until that time I'd not realized the place had even existed!) the book was returned to me. I must also have been deemed unlikely to harm myself, because I'd been given pencils. But before my arrest at St. Edwards, I'd jotted down things - most of them still make no sense.

My lawyer, he was quick to have my diary counted as 'client-attorney privilege'.

I mean, I have a clear remembrance of Mr. Beeman coming into the rink. It was such a surprise, good ol' Stan Beeman had come up to St. Edwards to visit his board-and dice-football buddy. I remember thinking that maybe he'd come, simply to get even for the pastings I'd given him back in Falls Church.

That may be my last clear memory.

Okay, then there was me leaving my helmet and gloves on the bench while awkwardly climbing the stands - with skates! - to sit with him. The first clue that something was amiss, was that Stan Beeman, tough-guy G-man, he was full on crying. My first thought? Something had happened to his wife, Renee. But why would he drive all the way to New Hampshire to tell me that?

In truth, my next memory was in the back seat of an FBI car, two unknown agents driving me to Boston, my hands handcuffed behind me, me in a daze. Mr. Beeman behind us in his own car.

I thought that that had happened within minutes of me seeing Stan crying in the stands - before he told me everything. But I'm told, and my jottings agree - that the arrest had been the next day.

Back then I didn't think any of what he told me made sense. As the fog cleared - if it ever did - it was the only thing which did make sense.

I'm afraid that most of me disbelieved Mr. Beeman. I mean, it was so wild and jarring. You know when it hit me?

My lawyer. He'd negotiated an escorted temporary absence from the Central Detention Facility in Washington. He and a guard, they drove me past our house in Falls Church.

The house was where it should have been, but it was no longer a house - a home. It was stripped bare. Men everywhere with garbage bags. With our stuff, mostly now scattered to the wind.

Out of everything, that one was a sledgehammer blow. Out of everything, the sight of the house with most of its siding off, with all doors and most windows removed, the garage almost gone, parts of the roof open to the sky, the front lawn with deep wheel-ruts in it…. you could see straight into the basement, into mom's laundry room. Paige's and mom and dad's bedrooms open to the air, not only no window but most of the outer wall missing.

The only thing that marked it as our home? Well, there was the Beeman's across the street, with Stan and Renee standing outside watching us. But back at 'home', there it was, off to one side on what used to be a driveway - the hockey net, dad and I used to practise with. It looked pristine. Like someone had recently replaced the netting, or had painted the posts.

The hockey net, it looked brand new. The FBI, they'd not taken it.

My lawyer had to postpone a hearing date set for the next day. Apparently, I was not doing too well after seeing all that. I don't remember, not really. On my 'recovery', I'd tried to jot more notes about it all - again, much of it still makes no sense.

BEYOND SEASON SIX

Henry: Hey, Stan! What's up? I see you can't get enough of me pasting you in dice-football!

Stan (wiping his eyes, trying to hide his sobs): Henry, I wish.

Henry: Hey, what's happening? Is everything all right? Is Renee okay?

Stan: It's your parents, Henry. It's Paige.

Henry (standing, frozen): Are they okay?

Stan: Yes, yes, yes. They're fine. Well, I guess. Don't get me wrong, Henry. I'm sorry….. I'm blowing this.

Henry: Stan, you're babbling. What's going on with my parents?

Stan (stiffening): Henry, I'm sorry to do this to you. You're my friend, your dad, he's my best friend. I still don't believe it myself.

Henry (sitting): Okay, Stan, we're all friends. Not that we needed to say it. What's going on, you're freaking me out.

Stan: I need to go all-FBI on you, Henry. So answer me one thing….. who knows about Paige's diary and that cassette tape, the ones Wanda Chu has?

Henry: What? - pause - Who told you about that?

Stan: Who knows about them? This is important, Henry….

Henry: No one, no one knows. Ms. Chu has them. She said she wouldn't tell anyone.

Stan (pausing): Sometime today or tomorrow, Henry, the world is going to fall on you. Through it all, I need you to stay silent. You'll have a right - a right to remain silent. I'll get you a lawyer, the one thing you have to remember is that you can refuse to answer questions.

Henry: Stan, okay I'm now really freaked out. Quit screwing around. What is going on? Are mom and dad, Paige, are they okay?

Stan: Your family life, Henry. - breaking down in more tears - My life, my friendship with your dad. All of it, it was all a lie.

Henry: I need to call dad. - standing - Coach Bowman, he'll let me use his phone.

Stan: Henry, sit. - Henry sat - This is going to make no sense, Henry. I'm in counterintellegence….

Henry: ….. yeah, I know…

Stan: If you get interrogated, you're to ask for a lawyer, you're to take the 5th…..

Henry (yelling): STAN!

Stan (now not hiding his tears): Your parents, Henry, Philip and Elizabeth - my best friend - they're Soviets, Henry. They always have been. Those nights they 'traveled', the weeks they were away with no contact, those times Paige looked after you, they were spying for the USSR.

Henry (silence): - finally - That's not even remotely funny, Stan. Are you high? There's something wrong with you.

Stan: That much, I agree with.

- silence -

Henry: I want to talk with Paige.

Stan: She's gone, Henry. Gone with your parents.

Henry: Jesus, what does that even mean? - pause - Thanks for coming, Stan, I have to get back to practise.

As Henry got up, on skates he awkwardly descended the bleachers. Halfway down, two trench-coated men, identical to Stan Beeman, came into the rink and spotted Henry Jennings.

(to be continued…..)