DO YOU KNOW JESUS?

It would have been better if it had been Jehovah's Witnesses at Stan's door. Stan had always been polite to them. Growing up, the next door neighbours had been J.W.'s, their kids always refusing invitations to birthday parties, never celebrating Christmas, and excusing themselves from school assemblies. Their neighbours never once sang the anthem nor recited the Pledge of Allegiance.

As a patriotic kid, Stan had thought that that should not be allowed. The Pledge, it should at least be compulsory.

Now an adult, Beeman was well practised in dealing with religious solicitations. He'd be polite, he'd take their pamphlets, then he'd firmly send them on their way.

But today, at his door, in front of him? A young Realtor. Worse than J.W.'s! A young woman was canvassing the neighbourhood about the old Jennings' property, the one currently undeveloped - used now by locals more as a park than anything else. The oldtimers to the area let their dogs linger there, would never pick up the waste…. those were people with long, bitter memories….

….. like Stan had.

Stan said to the young woman, surprising her, "this would be better if you were a J.W."

She looked confused, said, "what!? Sir, I'm here because I've bought the property, but the City of Falls Church, it has a by-law prohibiting building permits for it…."

Stan handed back the pamphlet, interrupted her by saying, "there's a reason for that, honey. I've been here ten years. That lot has had quite the history. Take a tip from me, you're not going to get anywhere with this petition, not on this street."

Stan could tell that his comments were raining on her parade, particularly if she now had money invested in what was probably a lost cause.

A bit frustrated she said, "look, sir, I get it. There'd been Russians there. But the Russians, they're now our friends and allies. People need to 'get over it'. This area needs affordable housing."

Stan completed her sentence in his head, 'yeah, and you need a payday.'

Finding the firmness that had sent the most stubborn J.W. on his way, he thanked her, wished her luck, closed the door, then turned back to his kitchen, to continue the conversation with this morning's new acquaintance.

Pastor Dale Woods, now a full-time sessional lecturer at Wesleyan Theological Seminary in D.C. proper.

….. and former assistant pastor Reed Street Church, assistant to Pastor Tim, ten years previous in Alexandria.

PASTOR DALE WOODS

Woods explained, "well, everyone got it confused, just where Reed Street Church was located. I mean, the actual 'Reed Street', it's actually either Reed Street West, or Reed Street East in Alexandria. Commonwealth Avenue divides Reed Street, east-west."

"In the 1970s, Reed Street Church rebuilt in a neighbourhood called, 'Arlandria', in the north of Alexandria near the city limit at Four Mile Run stream. People attending from here, Falls Church, never really knew just where the rebuilt Reed Street Church was, Arlington or Alexandria."

Stan did not have all morning, so he tried to move Pastor Woods into staying on topic, The Jennings. Particularly what he had claimed to have found out in the last 7 or 8 years since Woods had caught, what he'd described as, the Jenning's 'flu'.

Particularly with the Jehovah's cutting into their time, Stan wanted also to hear about Pastor Tim, how he'd been all these years. Particularly because Woods had yet to say anything about him just yesterday, returning from South America.

Stan winced at the awkward way he 'hurried' this along. He asked, "do you want one last coffee?"

'One last coffee'? Way to go Stan, he thought about himself, 'you're really losing it.'

After getting Dale the refill, Stan started again, focusing on what was essential.

"I'm sorry to hear about your loss. Your lady in Seattle, I'm sorry that her death attracted the police. Are they any further along with an arrest?"

Dale said, "this must be old hat for the likes of you." Which for Stan, it wasn't. Woods continued, "Me, I'm still shaken. Even though it's been a long time since we dated, even though she is out on the west coast, and I'm out here."

Stan, "look, no apologies. Yep, I did this for a living. You never got used to it." He paused considering if his next comment would be helpful, or if Stan was flirting with disclosing a national security tidbit.

"My worst? A kid, he was watching TV. When his mom didn't show up to put him to bed, he went out into the hall. His mom, her throat had been cut, ear to ear. His dad had been slaughtered in the kitchen. Butchery. Sheer savagery, and it was the kid who found them, had the awareness to call police." Stan paused then added, "that was my worst."

The silence which ensued demonstrated the mistake Stan had just made. Remembering the Bystrov's/Bystrova's brought up all sorts of demons for him from below. Stan had to recentre himself on now, 1993, rather than revisit the trauma of 1987.

PTSD, it's like that.

FOCUSING ON TODAY

Woods broke the silence by saying, "I'm a sessional lecturer at Wesleyan Seminary…. most people don't know what a theological academic does. Most think we sit around praying all day. Well, me, my job at Wesleyan is to challenge students in critical thinking, to find authoritative sources. To lead them through a pedagogic process to focus their thinking…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Stan said holding up his hand. "You've lost me, Pastor. Okay, I get it, you don't sit around praying all day."

Dale was a bit embarrassed at his 'theology-speak', so he recovered with, "all I'm saying Mr. Beeman is that we religious people, we cannot say anything we want. What we say has to be verifiable - my students have to know how to 'construct an argument', especially if they're claiming something which is not self-evident."

"Okay," Beeman conceded, "I get that. Me, as I told you earlier, I'm an old FBI cold warrior. I was in the room when the FBI had been tasked by President Reagan to go to war with Soviets - not 'Russians' per se, but the embedded Soviets living normal American lives among us."

Woods smiled a serious smile, "like across the street?"

Beeman's face turned red when he repeated, "like across the street." He paused, then said, "total transparency, pastor, I'm trying to move you out of my house here before a young man gets home. He'll be here within the hour."

Without missing a beat, Woods guessed, "Henry Jennings?"

Like a liturgical response, Beeman repeated, "Henry Jennings."

DECONSTRUCTING PASTOR TIM

Woods then said, "In Buenos Aires last week, I confronted my old friend, Pastor Tim, with a lie he'd told. A lie, in fact, he'd told you. It's one of the reasons I'm here this morning."

"Hey," Beeman blurted, "didn't the two of you work together at the Jennings's church?"

Dale smiled, "well, it's strange to hear it referred to as the 'Jennings Church', but, yes. I look back on that time as the best collaboration I'd ever had in a pastoral setting. Tim and Alice, they were my friends."

Beeman then said, "okay, you got my attention. Me, I'd be interested in knowing how - the hell - you'd know anything about what Pastor Tim and I'd talked about."

Woods said, "because in 1987, you'd called him from here, down in Buenos Aires. And your next call was to me, at Wesleyan Seminary. You told me, you said that you'd asked him questions about the Jennings, and you implied that Pastor Tim had lied."

Looking incredulous, Beeman said, "I don't remember that."

Woods said, "well, remember what I said about my academic forte, that I challenge students in critical thinking, discovering reliable sources, and using them to construct a reasonable argument about something?"

Woods then recounted to Beeman that that 1987 telephone call had led to him catching a bad case of the Jennings' 'flu. A 'flu that had paralyzed Tim in his time at that Alexandria church. An obsession developed for Woods to get to the bottom of why that house-lot across the street was STILL vacant, here in 1993.

Stan said, "look, Pastor Woods, all of that is long gone, done with. It was a long time ago, it's what my boss at work in the FBI has tried to drive into my head. It's now Islamist Jihad which is America's enemy. Look at New York, the explosion in the World Trade Center basement. Even me, an old Cold Warrior, even I have to face facts."

Woods then circled back. He said, "which brings me to my old girl-friend, The Reverend Doctor Susan Hyack, clergy to the United Methodist Church in Seattle. Now deceased. After this, I'm leaving to fly to her funeral."

"I'm so sorry, Pastor Woods, I really am," Stan offered.

Woods paused in thought. "What would you say, Agent Beeman, if I said that I have reason to believe that not only did Pastor Tim lie to you in 1987 about the Jennings…."

".….. but that Susan Hyack may have run into," Woods paused, "Elizabeth Jennings in Vancouver earlier this year?"

"What!?" Beeman blurted. "Vancouver? In Canada? That's so unlikely, you just don't know…."

Dale recited, "are you aware of the KGB penetrating the World Council of Churches, especially at their 1983 general assembly, held in Vancouver, no less?"

"I am aware," Beeman said cautiously. "That was a decade ago, and there is now no USSR, no KGB any more. But go on."

"If true, Agent Beeman, what is Elizabeth Jennings doing in Vancouver in 1993?"

"I'm losing you. But if you get an answer to that, sir, if they cover that in Rev. Hyack's eulogy, I hope you'd give me a call. I have opportunity to head to Vancouver myself - Clinton and Yeltsin are having a summit there in a few days. I'm trying to get onto an FBI team….."

Dale interrupted. "But that's not all, Agent Beeman. When Susan was out here last year, she said something else to me, something I'd not thought anything of… until confronting my buddy Tim in South America about it. Susan, she may have had a KGB agent in her own Seattle congregation…. although they don't call it that, now."

Stan corrected him, "yeah, the Russians have retooled as SVR. It would be strange to think that the SVR has either the interest OR the resources to duplicate the illegals program of a decade ago."

What Woods then said, absolutely floored Beeman. Woods said it just as Henry Jennings walked in the front door, announcing himself….. "Hey Stan, you won't believe what happened today!"

Woods lowered his voice, knowing his time with Agent Beeman was coming to a close.

"It was a woman named 'Rene', that's who Susan said she had questions about. This 'Rene', she'd moved to Seattle from here, the D.C. area. That's what Susan said."

As Henry walked into the room and introduced himself to Pastor Woods, Beeman just sat staring, now unaware of either Henry or Woods. The only thing going through his mind? 'I'm going to get on to that Vancouver FBI detail for the Yeltsin/Clinton thing if I have to shoot someone.'

What did Stan's sudden shock make him miss?

Pastor Dale was now quizzing the young Jennings about the only subject that made Henry rise in anger.

His sister, Paige. Pastor Dale, he had gone there. Stan had missed it. Stan was missing the angry exchange as it escalated.

CIAO CACAO, PHILIP

"I'm telling you, Elizabeth, I'd go with you - to Vancouver for the summit. I would. But I'm reprising Dierdre 2.0 at Microsoft." Philip had recounted to Elizabeth that he was working a 'Dierdre-clone', a woman well-placed on their Excel and Word development team. She was the Excel team's liaison to the Microsoft's strategy committee, to do with the growing battle Bill Gates was having with the federal DOJ's Antitrust Division. It was the growing government concern that Microsoft had been, perhaps criminally, misusing its 'per processor licensing' demand that it made to retailers.

That made billions for Microsoft.

The woman was as matter of fact as Dierdre Kemp had been in 1984. The vice-president of production and distribution at Agri-Corp in Kansas City, she had been the one back then to show Philip how Lotus 1-2-3 could increase his bookkeeping productivity. That was their sex-foreplay, spreadsheets. She'd explained that to him as dully as she'd also eventually explained, in stark technical language, what she'd enjoyed in bed.

In working her, Philip had tried to duplicate her dullness. That had been a mistake, one that he (now in his 50s!) was bound and determined NOT to make with Dierdre 2.0 at Microsoft. Dierdre #1 had ditched him because, as she'd said, he was just not 'exciting enough'. Philip had blown crucial intel about Agri-Corp because he'd failed to 'read' Dierdre correctly.

Now in 1993, as Elizabeth zipped up her backpack for the Greyhound trip back up to Vancouver, Canada, she listened intently to Philip's uncharacteristic crisis of confidence. He'd once been quite the 'ladies man' when he was working someone. In honeytrapping and bedding a mark, these days he just was not sharp.

"Well, Romeo," she quipped, "I have to go. I can't walk you through this one. But try to be a bit more exciting… we need that information about the growing AntiTrust stuff….." She put on her jacket, slung the pack around her shoulder and said she was walking over to the Greyhound terminal.

"Look, Elizabeth," Philip offered. "I'm sorry. I acted prematurely with Pastor Susan. But we've received no blow-back. I agree, we don't know - and now can't know - what she knew about the World Council of Churches in Vancouver back in '83. I admit it, I blew it. But if we'd been suspected in her disappearance…"

Finishing his sentence, she said, "….. I'll find out crossing into Canada!"

"I just don't know how or why she knows Dale Woods, from Reed Street Church. I hope I haven't fucked up too badly. I've now checked, he's no longer at Reed Street, but he DID just go to Buenos Aires. My bet? He was comparing notes with Pastor Tim down there. That's another thing I should have nailed down before dealing with pastor Susan…"

"Look, Philip. I have to go or I'll miss the bus. Don't beat yourself up over it. It is what it is. I'll be back after the summit. Unless."

Opening their apartment door to the hallway, the last thing she said was, "ciao cacao."