Arthur Hailey - Evening News

A sudden thought struck Rita.”Could it have been something to do with Globanic? Perhaps this.” Opening her purse, she took out the several clipped sheets of paper Harry Partridge had given her this morning.

Sloane took the sheets and read them.”Interesting! A huge debt-to-equity swap. Really big money! Where did you get this?”

"From Harry.” She repeated what Partridge had told her on the way to the airport—how he had received the document from the Peru radio commentator, Sergio Hurtado, who intended to broadcast the information during the coming week. Rita added, "Harry told me he didn't plan to use the story. Said it was the least we could do for Globanic which puts butter on our bread.”

"There could be a linkage between this and Harry's firing,” Sloane said thoughtfully.”I see a possibility. Let's go upstairs and call Les now.”

"There's something I want to do first, when we get there,” Rita said.

The "something” was send for Victor Velasco.

When the international manager of Entel appeared a few minutes later, Rita told him, "I want a secure line to New York, with no one listening.”

Velasco looked embarrassed.”Do you have reason to suppose — . .”

"Yes."

"Please come to my office. You may use a phone there.”

Rita and Crawford Sloane followed the manager to a pleasant, carpeted office on the same floor.”Please use my desk.” He pointed to a red phone.”That line is secure. I guarantee it. You may dial direct.”

"Thank you.” With Partridge en route to Nueva Esperanza, Rita had no intention of letting his whereabouts, which might be mentioned in conversation, become known to Peru authorities.

With a courteous nod, Velasco left the office, closing the door behind him.

Sloane, seated at the desk, tried Les Chippingham's direct CBA News line first. There was no answer—not unusual on a Saturday morning. What was unusual was that the news president had not left with the CBA News switchboard a number where he could be reached. Consulting a pocket notebook, Sloane tried a third number—Chippingham's uptown Manhattan apartment. Again no response. There was a Scarsdale number where Chippingham sometimes spent weekends. He wasn't there either.

”It rather looks,” Sloane said, "as if he's deliberately made himself unavailable this morning.” He sat at the desk, contemplative, weighing a decision.

”What are you thinking of?” Rita asked.

”Calling Margot Lloyd-Mason.” He picked up the red phone.”I will.”

Sloane tapped out the U.S. overseas code again and the number of Stonehenge. An operator told him, "Mrs. Lloyd-Mason is not in her office today.”

"This is Crawford Sloane. Will you give me her home number, Please.”

"It's unlisted, Mr. Sloane. I'm not allowed to give it out.”

"But you have it?”

The operator hesitated.”Yes, sir.”

"What's your name, operator?”

"Noreen.”

"A beautiful name; I've always liked that. Now, please listen to me carefully, Noreen. By the way, do you recognize my voice?”

"Oh yes, sir. I watch the news every night. But lately I've been worried . . .”

"Thank you, Noreen. So have I. Now, I'm calling from Lima, Peru, and I simply have to speak with Mrs. Lloyd-Mason. If you'll give me that number, I promise I will never breathe a word of how I got it, except that next time I'm in Stonehenge I'll come to the switchboard room and thank you personally.”

"Oh! Would you really, Mr. Sloane? We'd all love it!”

"I always keep promises. The number, Noreen?”

He wrote it down as she read it out.

This time, the phone was answered on the second ring by a male voice which sounded like a butler's. Sloane identified himself and asked for Mrs. Lloyd-Mason.

He waited several minutes, then Margot's voice, which was unmistakable, said, "Yes?”

"This is Crawf. I'm calling from Lima.”

"So I was told, Mr. Sloane. I'm curious why you are calling me, particularly at home. First, though, I'd like to offer my sympathy about your father's death.”

"Thank you.”

Unusually for someone of his stature, Sloane had never been on a first-name basis with the CBA president and clearly she intended to keep it that way. He also guessed from her tone and aloofness that he would get nowhere with direct questions. He decided to try the timeworn journalist's trick which so often worked, even with sophisticated persons.

”Mrs. Lloyd-Mason, yesterday when you decided to fire Harry Partridge from CBA, I wonder if you realized how much he has accomplished in the whole effort to find and free my wife, son and father.”

The reply came back explosively, "Who told you that was my decision?”

He was tempted to answer, You just did! But restraining himself, he said, "In the TV news business, which is close-knit, almost nothing is secret. That's why I called you.”

Margot snapped, "I do not wish to discuss this now.”

"That's a pity,” Sloane said, speaking quickly, before she could hang up, "because I thought you might want to talk about the connection between Harry's firing and that big debt to-equity swap Globanic is arranging with Peru. Did Harry's honest reporting offend someone with a stake in that deal?”

At the other end of the line there was a long silence in which he could hear Margot breathing. Then, her voice subdued, she asked, "Where did you hear all that?”

So there was a connection after all!

"Well,” Sloane said, "the fact is, Harry Partridge learned about the debt-to-equity arrangement. He's a first-class reporter, you know, one of the best in our business, and right now he's out risking his life for CBA. Anyway, Harry decided not to use the information. His words were, I understand, 'That's the least I can do for Globanic, which puts butter on our bread.' “

Again the silence. Then Margot asked, "So it isn't going to be publicized?”

"Aha! That's another matter.” In other circumstances, Sloane thought, he might have enjoyed this; as it was, he felt miserably depressed.”There's a radio reporter in Lima who uncovered the story, has a copy of the agreement, and intends to broadcast it next week. I expect it will be picked up outside Peru. Don't you?”

Margot didn't answer. Wondering if she had hung up, he asked, "Are you still there?”

"Yes."

"Are you wishing, by chance, that you hadn't done what you did to Harry Partridge?”

"No.” The answer seemed disembodied, as if Margot's mind was far away.”No,” she repeated, "I was thinking of other things.”

"Mrs. Lloyd-Mason"—Crawford Sloane employed the cutting tone he used occasionally for repulsive items in the news" has anyone told you lately that you are a cold-hearted bitch?”

He replaced the red phone.

* * *

Margot, too, hung up as her phone went silent. One day soon, she decided, she would find her own way to deal with the self-important Mr. Crawford Sloane. But this was not the time. Right now, other things were more important.

The news she had just been given about Globanic and Peru had severely jolted her. But she had been jolted in the past and seldom stayed that way for long. Margot had not climbed as high and fast as she had in the world of business without serious setbacks, and almost always she contrived to turn them to her advantage. Somehow she must do so now. She paused, weighing initiatives she could take.

Without question, she must call Theo Elliott today. He never minded being disturbed about important business matters at any time, weekends included.

She would tell him she had information that word was circulating in Peru about the Globanic deal, that a Peruvian reporter had somehow obtained a copy of the draft agreement and was about to publish it. It had nothing to do with CBA or, for that matter, any other U.S. network or newspaper; it was a local Peruvian leak, though a bad one.