Beirut“S
orry we’ve got to meet each other for the first time in this situation,” Linda sat across from Chan Dwyer Davis in the Commodore coffee shop where they were waiting for Mike Stokey and Fast Eddie Evans to return from the American Embassy. As they made small talk, each getting to know the other, Linda rummaged through her purse until she extracted what looked like a large, squared-off wooden spoon with a sunburst divot in the bowl. She ran her thumb over it like an old Hippie worry-stone.
“Shake told me a lot about you when he came to see us in Vegas. I hope you know how much that man loves you.”
“I do—never doubted it really. This is such a mess, Linda. It’s hard for me to keep from thinking it’s my fault. You know, if I…” Linda reached across the table and put a hand on Chan’s
