Fernandez turned to Partridge.”It seems that just a few hours ago the man she lived with here was killed—murdered. She was out and came back to find him dead; the police have taken the body. She thought we were the people who killed him, come back to finish her too. I convinced her we are friends.” He spoke to the woman again and her eyes moved to Partridge.
Partridge assured her, "We are truly sorry to hear of your friend's death. Have you any idea who killed him?”
The woman shook her head and murmured something. Fernandez said, "She speaks very little English,” and translated for her. ”Lo sentimos mucho la muerte de su amigo. Sabe Ud. quien lo maffo?”
The woman nodded energetically, mouthing a stream of words ending with "Sendero Luminoso .”
It confirmed what Partridge had feared. The person they had hoped to see—whoever he was—had connections to Sendero, but was now beyond reach. The question remained: Did this woman know anything about the kidnap victims? It seemed unlikely.
She spoke again in Spanish, less rapidly, and this time Partridge understood.”Yes,” he said to Fernandez, "we would like to sit down, and tell her I would be grateful if she will answer some questions.”
Fernandez repeated the request and the woman replied, after which he translated.”She says yes, if she can. I have told her who you are and, by the way, her name is Dolores. She also asks if you would like a drink.”
" No, gracias , “Partridge said, at which Dolores nodded and went to a shelf, clearly intending to get a drink for herself But when she lifted a gin bottle she saw that it was empty. She seemed about to cry again, then murmured something before sitting down.
Fernandez reported, "She says she doesn't know how she will live. She has no money.”
Partridge said directly to Dolores, " Le dare dinero si Ud. tiene la informacion que estoy buscando.”
The mention of money produced another fast exchange between Dolores and Fernandez who reported, "She says ask your questions.”
Partridge decided not to rely on his own limited Spanish and continued with Fernandez translating. Questions and answers went back and forth.
”Your man friend who was killed—what kind of work did he do?”
"He was a doctor. A special doctor.”
"You mean a specialist?”
"He put people to sleep.”
"An anesthesiologist?”
Dolores shook her head, not understanding. Then she went to a cupboard, groped inside and produced a small, battered suitcase. Opening the case, she removed a file containing papers and leafed through them. Selecting two, she passed them to Partridge. He saw they were medical diplomas.
The first declared that Hartley Harold Gossage, a graduate of Boston University Medical School, was entitled to practice medicine. The second diploma certified that the same Hartley Harold Gossage was "a properly qualified specialist in Anesthesiology.”
With a gesture, Partridge asked if he could look at the other papers. Dolores nodded her approval.
Several documents appeared to concern routine medical matters and were of no interest. The third he picked up was a letter on stationery of the Massachusetts Board of Registration in Medicine. Addressed to "H. H. Gossage, M.D.,” it began, "You are hereby notified that your license to practice medicine has been revoked for life . . .”
Partridge put the letter down. A picture was becoming clearer. The man who had lived here, reported to have just been murdered, was presumably Gossage, a disgraced, disbarred American anesthesiologist who had some connection with Sendero Luminoso. As to that connection, Partridge reasoned, the kidnap victims had been spirited out of the United States, presumably drugged or otherwise sedated at the time. In fact when he thought about it, yesterday's discoveries at the Hackensack house, described by Don Kettering, confirmed that. It seemed likely, therefore, that the former doctor, Gossage, had done the sedating. Partridge's face tightened. He wished he had been able to confront the man while he was alive.
The others were watching him. With Fernandez's help he resumed the questioning of Dolores.
”You told us Sendero Luminoso murdered your doctor friend. Why do you believe that?”
"Because he worked for those bastardos.”A pause, then a recollection.”Sendero had a name for him—Baudelio.”
"How did you know this?”
"He told me.”
"Did he tell you other things he did for Sendero?”
"Some.” A wan smile which quickly disappeared.”When we got drunk together.”
"Did you know about a kidnapping? It was in all the newspapers.”
Dolores shook her head.”I do not read newspapers. All they print is lies.”
"Was Baudelio away from Lima recently?”
A vigorous series of nods.”For a long time. I missed him.” A pause, then, "He phoned me from America.”
"Yes, we know.” Everything was fitting together, Partridge thought. Baudelio had to have been on the kidnap scene. He asked through Fernandez, "When did he come back here?”
Dolores considered before answering.”A week ago. He was glad to be back. He was also afraid he would be killed.”
"Did he say why?”
Dolores considered.”I think he overheard something. About him knowing too much.” She began to cry.”We had been together a long time. What shall I do?”
There was one important question left. Partridge deliberately hadn't asked it yet and was almost afraid to.”After Baudelio was in America and before returning here, was he somewhere in Peru?”
Dolores nodded affirmatively.
”Did he tell you where that was?”
"Yes. Nueva Esperanza.”
Partridge could scarcely believe what so suddenly and unexpectedly had come his way. His hands were shaking as he turned back pages in his notebook—to the interview with Cesar Acevedo and the list of places where Sendero Luminoso had ordered the Catholic medical teams to stay out. A name leapt out at him: Nueva Esperanza.
He had it ! He knew at last where Jessica, Nicky and Angus Sloane were being held.
* * *
He was still first and foremost a TV news correspondent, Partridge reminded himself as he discussed with Rita, Minh and O'Hara the video shots they needed—of Dolores, the apartment, and the building's exterior. They were all in the tenth-floor apartment, Tomis having been sent down to bring the other three from the station wagon.
Partridge wanted close-ups too of the medical diplomas and the Massachusetts letter consigning Gossage-cum-Baudelio to the medical profession's garbage heap. The American ex-doctor might have gone to his grave, but Partridge would make sure the vileness he had done the Sloane family was forever on record. However, even though Baudelio's apparent role in the kidnapping was important to the full news story, Partridge knew that releasing it now would be a mistake, leading others to the information that his CBA group possessed exclusively. But he wanted the Baudelio segment pre-packaged, ready for use at a moment's notice when the proper time came.
Dolores was videotaped in close-up, the sound recording of her voice in Spanish later to be faded out and a translation dubbed in. At the conclusion of her taping Fernandez told Partridge, "She is reminding you that you promised her money.”
Partridge conferred with Rita who produced a thousand dollars in U.S. fifty-dollar bills. In the circumstances the payment was generous, but Dolores had provided an important break; also Partridge and Rita felt sorry for her and believed her statement that she knew nothing of the kidnap, despite her association with Baudelio.
Rita instructed Fernandez, "Please explain it is against CBA policy to pay for a news appearance; therefore the money is for the use of her apartment and the information she gave us.” It was a semantic distinction, often used by networks to do exactly what they said they didn't, but New York liked producers to go through the motions.
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