Arthur Hailey - Evening News

Other security measures were arranged.

Tomorrow and the next day, while a studio and control room were being used to produce the one-hour News Special, security guards would be posted outside, admitting only those persons on a list to be compiled by Rita. Also, the normal studio output line would be disconnected so that no one beyond the studio and control room could view on a monitor what was happening inside.

It was agreed, however, that on Friday morning security would be relaxed slightly, to the extent of doing broadcast promotional advertising during the day. This would advise viewers that important new information about the Sloane kidnapping would be revealed on that evening's National Evening News and the one-hour special. Also during the day as a professional courtesy, other networks, news wire services and the print press would be advised of the same thing, though no details would be disclosed.

At length, Partridge asked, "Is there anything else, or can we get to work?”

"One more detail.” It was Rita, a touch of mischief in her voice.”Les, I need your approval for another Learjet, this one for Friday night when it's my turn for Peru. I'm taking an editor—Bob Watson—and an editpak. Also, I'll have the bankroll.”

There was a chuckle among insiders at the table and even a smile from Crawford Sloane. Rita was enhancing her chances of traveling by private plane, first by taking an editor and editpak, the latter consisting of bulky editing equipment, hard to transport otherwise. Second, it was considered unwise to travel commercially with large amounts of U.S. cash; though Rita hadn't mentioned the amount, it would be fifty thousand dollars. Yet hard currency was essential in a country such as Peru where local money was close to worthless and dollars would buy almost anything, including special privileges which were certain to be needed.

Chippingham sighed inwardly. Inconsiderately, he thought, and despite their affair which continued to flourish, Rita had put him on the spot.

”Go ahead,” he told her.”Book it.”

* * *

Only minutes after the meeting ended, Partridge was at a computer terminal working on his co-anchor introduction for Friday's National Evening News.

Several startling new developments, he wrote, have come to light concerning the kidnapping, fifteen days ago, of the wife, son and father of CBA News anchorman Crawford Sloane. Investigative reporting by CBA has led us to believe that the three kidnap victims have been transported to Peru where they are being held by the Maoist revolutionary guerrillas Sendero Luminoso, or Shining Path, who have terrorized large portions of Peru for many years.

A motive for the kidnapping is not yet known.

What is known is that a United Nations diplomat, using a New York bank account, supplied money to the kidnappers, which made the abduction, as well as other acts of terrorism, possible.

Our extensive coverage begins, as so many other crimes begin, with money. CBA's business correspondent Don Kettering explained.

It would be, Partridge reflected as he began to revise what he had written, the first of many similar introductions he must compose and record before leaving Manhattan for Teterboro Airport at 5 a.m.

It was still dark, and raining, a few minutes before 6 A.m. Eastern daylight time when a Learjet 36A took off from New Jersey's Teterboro Airport for Bogota, Colombia. Aboard were Harry Partridge, Minh Van Canh and Ken O'Hara.

The 36A did not have the range for a nonstop flight to Lima, but they would be in Bogota only long enough to refuel and hoped to reach the Peruvian capital by 1:30 P.m. Eastern standard time, which Peru stayed on all year round.

Partridge and the other two had come directly from CBA News headquarters to Teterboro in a network car. During the busy night, Partridge managed to slip away for a half hour to the Inter-Continental Hotel and pack a bag. He hadn't wasted time checking out; someone from the network would do that in the morning.

He had also asked the CBA News assignment desk to arrange some sleeping facility in the Lear and was delighted to find it ready. On the right side of the passenger cabin, two facing seats had been lowered to become a bed, with a mattress, sheets and blankets invitingly in place. It was possible for another bed to be made up on the opposite side, but Minh and O'Hara would have to work that out between them. In any case, he didn't think their night had been as arduous as his own.

By the time they were in the air and on course, Partridge was asleep. He slept soundly for three hours, then awakened to find the cabin in semidarkness, someone having thoughtfully lowered all the window shades, though bright sunshine enough to see by—was visible around their edges. Across the cabin, Minh was curled up and asleep in a seat. O'Hara, also sleeping, was in another seat behind.

Partridge checked his watch: 9 A.m. New York time—still only 8 A.M. in Lima. Reaching for a flight plan the co-pilot had brought before takeoff, he calculated it would be another two hours before the refueling stop in Bogota. The hum of jet engines was steady but quiet and there was no hint of turbulence. A phrase came to Partridge: a silky journey. Enjoying the luxury, he lay down again and closed his eyes.

This time sleep did not come. Perhaps the three hours had been enough. Perhaps too much had happened in too short a time for him to rest for very long. On other occasions in the past he had found he needed little sleep during periods of stress and action, and this was such a time, or would be very soon. Yes, he was going into action—quite probably and literally into battle-and he felt his senses stir agreeably.

That feeling, he supposed, had always been dormant inside him, though Vietnam had awakened it and, afterward, other wars in other places satisfied his need. It was what made him, in TV news jargon, a "bang-bang” correspondent, a label that used to bother him but didn't anymore.

Why not? Because there were times when a "bang-bang” like himself was needed, just as Balaklava had had soldiery who performed their jobs while

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them ,

Volleyed and thundered..

He smiled, amused by Tennyson's romanticizing, and his own.

It hadn't always been that way with him. For a while, when he and Gemma were together, he consciously avoided wars and danger because life was sweet, too gloriously happy to risk a sudden termination. Around that time, within the network, he knew word had gone out to the effect: Give Harry some safe assignments,— he's earned them. Let the newer reporters follow the sound of gunfire for a while.

Later, all of that changed, of course. When Gemma was no longer on the scene, Partridge had ceased to be protected and was sent again to wars, in part because he was so good at them, in part because he made it known he didn't care what chances he took. That last was one reason, he supposed, why he was on this journey here and now.

How strange that since this project began he had mentally relived his time with Gemma. It was during the air journey from Toronto immediately after the kidnap that the memory came back to him of the Pope's Alitalia DC-10 and meeting Gemma . . . his own conversation with the Pope and the "Slavs-slaves” mix-up which he resolved . . . then Gemma delivering his breakfast tray and bringing him a rose.

One day later on this assignment—or was it two?—more memories at night in his hotel . . . of falling in love with Gemma and, while still continuing on the papal tour, proposing marriage . . . During a brief stopover, their taxi ride to the old city in Panama, and Gemma standing beside him while the juez in his ornate office pronounced them man and wife.