Arthur Hailey - Evening News

Miguel remained coolly impassive, outwardly indifferent to it all.

After the third burn he waited until some of the noise had subsided, then informed Jessica, "You will sit in front of the camera and speak when I signal you. I have written on cards what you are to say. It is the same as you read and the cards will be held up. You will follow them exactly. Is that understood?”

"Yes,” Jessica said dully, "it's understood.”

Hearing her voice, choked and dry, Miguel told Gustavo, "Give her some water.”

Jessica protested, "I don't It's Nicky who needs attention—something for those bums. Socorro will know . . .”

"Shut up!” Miguel snarled.”If you give any more trouble, the boy will suffer again. He will stay as he is. You will obey!” He glared at Nicky, who was whimpering.”You shut up too!” Miguel turned his head.”Ramon, keep the hot poker ready!”

Ramon nodded.” Si jefe .”He inhaled until his cigarette was again a glowing red.

Jessica closed her eyes. Her own obstinacy, she thought, had brought them to this. Maybe one day Nicky would forgive her. To protect him now, she would concentrate on what had to be done, completing it without a mistake. But even then, a sudden thought occurred.

At home in Larchmont, the night before the kidnap when Jessica and Crawf were talking, Crawf had described signals which a hostage making a video recording could transmit surreptitiously. The point was that someone back home would know of the signals and be able to recognize them. Crawf had had the notion that someday he might be kidnapped and make such a recording. But now it was Jessica instead—something neither of then had dreamed of—and she struggled to remember the signals, knowing Crawf would see this tape... What were they?

The conversation at Larchmont was coming back . . . her memory had always been good . . . Crawf had said, " Licking my lips with my tongue would mean, I am doing this against my will. Do not believe anything I am saying.' . . . Scratching or touching my right earlobe—My captors are well organized and strongly armed' . . . Left earlobe—Security here is sometimes lax. An attack from outside might succeed' “. . . There were other signals, Crawf had said, though he hadn't described them. So the three—or rather two, since she could only use one of the earlobe messages—would have to do.

Jessica's cell was opened by Gustavo who motioned her to move outside.

Her impulse when she emerged was to run to Nicky, but Miguel's face was glowering and Ramon, also watching, had lighted a new cigarette Jessica stopped, her eyes meeting Nicky's, and she knew he understood. Guided by Gustavo, she sat in the chair facing the photofloods and Camcorder. Obediently, she sipped water that he gave her.

The message she would speak was written in large letters on two cards which Gustavo now held up. Miguel had moved to the Camcorder and was squinting into an eyepiece. He ordered, "When I drop my hand, begin.”

The signal came and Jessica spoke, trying to keep her voice even.

”We have all been treated well and fairly. Now that the reason we were taken has been explained to us, we understand why it was necessary. We also have been told how easy it will be for our American friends to ensure our safe return home. To have us released..."

"Stop!”

Miguel's face was red, his features working angrily.

”Bitch! You are reading like you would a laundry list without expression, trying to be clever, making it sound unbelieving, as if being forced . . .”

"I am being forced!” It was a flash of spirit which, an instant later, Jessica regretted.

Miguel signaled to Ramon who applied his hot cigarette to Nicky's chest, prompting another scream.

Jessica, almost out of her mind, was on her feet, pleading.”No! No more! I'll do it better! . . . The way you want! . . . I promise!”

To her relief this time, there was no second bum. Miguel put a fresh cassette into the Camcorder and waved Jessica back into the chair. Once more Gustavo gave her water. Moments later she began again.

Steeling herself, she did her best to make the opening phrases sound convincing, then continued, "To have us released, you must simply follow—quickly and exactly—the instructions which accompany this recording . . .”

Immediately after the word "recording,” Jessica moistened her lips with her tongue. She knew she was taking a risk, for herself and Nicky too, but believed the action would seem natural and pass unnoticed. The absence of objection proved her right and she had now confirmed to Crawf and others that the words she was speaking were not her own. Despite all else that had happened, she felt a thrill of satisfaction as she continued reading from the cards Gustavo held.

”. . . but be sure of this: If you do not obey those instructions, you will not see any of us, ever again. We beg of you, do not let that happen . . .”

What were the instructions—the price of their release which the kidnappers were asking? Jessica could only wonder, by now knowing better than to ask. Meanwhile, only a little time remained, and how about her other message? A choice must be made . . . left earlobe or right . . . Which?

It was true the people here were armed and perhaps well organized, but security was lax at times, and often at night their guards fell asleep; sometimes one or the other could be heard snoring . . . Making her decision, Jessica reached up and casually scratched her left earlobe. It was done! No one had noticed! She continued with the closing words.

”We will be waiting, counting on you, desperately hoping you will make the right decision and . . .”

Seconds later, it was over. As Jessica closed her eyes in relief, Miguel switched off the floodlights and stepped back, a small smile of satisfaction on his face.

* * *

It was an hour before Socorro came, an hour of pain for Nicky and of anguish for Jessica and Angus, who could hear Nicky moaning softly on his bed but could not go to him. Jessica had begged the guard on duty—using words and gestures—to let her leave her cell and join Nicky in his, and it was clear the man, while not speaking English, understood what she was asking. But he had shaken his head and insisted, "No se permite.”

An overpowering sense of guilt seized Jessica. She told Nicky through the screen, "Oh, darling, I'm so desperately sorry. If I'd known what they would do, I'd have made the recording right away. I never even thought . . . “

"Don't worry, Mom.” Despite his pain, Nicky had tried to reassure her.”It wasn't your fault.”

"No one could have believed what those savages did, Jessie,” Angus had called out from his cell on the far side.”Does it still hurt a lot, old chap?”

"It's pretty bad.” Nicky's voice quavered.

Jessica appealed to the guard again.”Get Socorro! The nurse! You understand? Socorro!”

This time the man took no notice. He was seated, reading what appeared to be a comic book, and did not look up.

Eventually Socorro came, apparently of her own volition.

”Please help Nicky,” Jessica asked.”Your friends burned him.”

"He probably deserved it.” Socorro signaled to the guard to open Nicky's cell and went in. As she saw the four bums, she made a clucking sound with her mouth, then turned away and left the cell, the guard locking it behind her.

Jessica called, "You are coming back?”

For a moment Socorro looked as if she would make another sharp answer. Then she nodded curtly and left. A few minutes later she returned, carrying a bowl, a jug of water and a package of what proved to be folded cloths and gauze.

Watching through the screen, Jessica observed Socorro gently bathe the bums with water, Nicky wincing as she did, though he did not cry out. Socorro blotted the bums dry with a cloth, then placed a gauze pad over each, securing the dressings with adhesive tape.