Free The Burma Effect by Michael E. Rose Page B

you I don’t feel comfortable delving into Kellner’s personal life or that of any of our correspondents,” Winton said, ever so slightly aggressive now. The small British smile was not enough to conceal that.
    â€œMaybe you should sometimes,” Delaney said.
    â€œWe have nothing to apologize for in the way we deal with our people in the field, Delaney,” Winton said.
    â€œHow do you know that, if you don’t try to keep up with what they are doing?”
    â€œI’m not sure I see where this is going,” Winton said.
    â€œWell, it’s so much easier, isn’t it, for the magazine to always be able to say you had no idea what sort of things a reporter was up to in his personal life than to address that before something came up.”
    â€œLike what?” Winton had started looking at his watch.
    â€œLike if they disappear on you, for example. Like if they piss someone off badly, for example.”
    â€œIf it has to do with their work for us, we want to know about it,” Winton said. “We would want to know, for example, if they piss someone off, as you put it. But if it has to do with their personal lifestyles, that is certainly not our business at all.”
    â€œConvenient for everyone,” Delaney said. “If you ignore someone’s lifestyle you can’t be expected to intervene if it gets risky or complicated.”
    He realized this would have to apply equally to how CSIS dealt with its freelancers in the field. How they dealt with Kellner, for example.
    â€œWhat would you have us do, Delaney?” Winton said, looking at his watch again. “Trail after our people in the field as they go into various press clubs around the world, and count their drinks? Choose their friends and girlfriends for them? These people are adults, professionals.” “Most of the time,” Delaney said.
    â€œI don’t want to have conflict with you on this, Delaney,” Winton said. “We all want to find out if Kellner is all right.”
    â€œI want to find out if he is all right and what it is that might have made him not all right,” Delaney said. “Do you want to find out both of these things too?”
    â€œOf course,” Winton said.“We want precisely the same things. We are working toward the same goal.”
    Lunch ended somewhat more abruptly than Delaney would have wanted. Winton waved for the waiter and paid for the meal with an American Express Corporate card. They shook hands again on the steps.
    â€œGood of you to come over and try to help out, Delaney,” Winton said. “Much appreciated. Do call us from over there if you need anything at our end.”
    He set off down the steps past Carleton House walking quickly in the direction of Green Park. Delaney watched him go, and then headed back up the way he had come, on foot along Piccadilly to the hotel.
    He had a couple of hours to kill before he met some Reuters people he knew. They were Asia hands, now beached on the agency’s World Desk in London. They knew Kellner from their Bangkok and Singapore days.
    Delaney checked for emails on his laptop back in the hotel. Rawson had messaged, using a commercial email address. He never used CSIS email to contact freelancers.
    Hello Francis, hope you’re well. Just to let you know, some people have been around to see M at NK’s apartment. Or so I’m told. Asian appearance. Civilians apparently.That’s all we’ve got for the moment.Two days ago. Bests, JR.
    Delaney did not bother to reply. Instead he sent an email to Mai in Bangkok, reminding her that he would be arriving late the next night and that he would see her on Wednesday. He thought it best not to use the phone for this sort of thing now.
    From the Montreal chapter of the CG Jung Society there was an email asking for a progress report on the paper he had been promising for months. He was to write something about war reporting and conflict