Arthur Hailey - Evening News

From the beginning of the conspiracy, Miguel foresaw that immediately after the victims' seizure a hue and cry would follow, with police roadblocks and intensive searches. He therefore decided that any immediate attempt to travel a long distance would be unsafe. On the other hand, there must be a temporary hideaway, well clear of the Larchmont area.

The Hackensack property was roughly twenty-five road miles from where the kidnapping had occurred. The ease with which they had returned here and the absence of pursuit proved that Miguel's planning had been effective—so far.

The three prisoners—Jessica, Nicholas and Angus Sloane— were now in the main house. Still drugged and unconscious, they had been carried to a large room on the second floor. Unlike other rooms in the dilapidated, mildewed house, this one had been thoroughly cleaned and repainted in white. Additional electric outlets and overhead fluorescent lights had been installed. There was new pale-green linoleum on the floor. The ex-doctor, Baudelio, had specified and overseen the changes which were carried out by the group's handyman-mechanic, Rafael.

Two hospital cots with side restraining rails now stood in the center of the room. Jessica was on one, the boy, Nicholas, on the other. Their arms and legs were secured by straps—a precaution against their regaining consciousness, though for the time being that was not intended.

While anesthesiology was seldom an exact science, Baudelio was confident that his "patients"—as he now thought of them —would remain sedated for another half hour, perhaps longer.

Alongside the two cots was a narrow metal bed and mattress which had been hastily brought in and set up to accommodate Angus, whose presence had not been expected. As part of the improvisation, his limbs were secured with lengths of rope instead of straps. Even now, Miguel, watching from across the room, was unsure about what to do with the old man. Should he be killed and his body buried outside after dark? Or should he somehow be included in the original plan? A decision had to be made soon.

Baudelio was working around the three recumbent forms, setting up intravenous stands, putting fluid bags in place. On a table covered with a green cotton cloth he had laid out instruments, drug packages and trays. Although intravenous catheters for entering veins through the skin were all that was likely to be needed, Baudelio had a long-established habit of having other equipment available for use in difficulty or emergencies. Assisting him was Socorro, the woman with ties to both the Medellin cartel and Sendero Luminoso; during her several undercover years in the United States she had qualified as a nursing aide.

With raven-dark hair twisted into a bun behind her head, Socorro had a shm, lithe body, olive skin, and features that might have been beautiful had she not worn a permanently sour expression. Although she did whatever was required of her and expected no favors because of her sex, Socorro seldom spoke and never revealed what went on within her mind. She had also rejected, with blunt profanity, sexual overtures from some of the men.

For these reasons Miguel had labeled Socorro mentally "the inscrutable one.” While he was aware of her dual affiliation and that Sendero Luminoso had, in fact, insisted on Socorro's inclusion in the kidnap group, he had no reason to mistrust her. He occasionally wondered, though, if Socorro's long exposure to the American scene had diluted her Colombian and Peruvian loyalties.

The question was one Socorro herself would have had trouble answering.

On the one hand, she had always been a revolutionary, initially finding an outlet for her fervor with the Colombian M-19 guerrillas, then more recently—and profitably—with the Medellin cartel and Sendero Luminoso. Her conviction about the Colombian and Peruvian governments was that she wanted the villainous ruling class killed and would happily join the slaughter. At the same time she had been indoctrinated to consider the U.S. power structure as equally evil. Yet after three years of living in the United States and receiving friendly fairness where hostility and oppression would have been easier to handle, she found it difficult to continue despising and regarding as enemies America and its people.

Right now she was doing her best to hate these three captives— rico bourgeois scum , she assured herself—but not wholly succeeding . . . damnably not succeeding . . . because pity, in a revolutionary, was a contemptible emotion!

But once out of this perplexing country, as all of them would be very soon, Socorro was sure she could do better and be stronger, more consistent in her hatreds.

From a tilted—back chair on the far side of the room, Miguel said to Baudelio, "Tell me what it is you are doing.” His tone made clear it was an order.

”I am working quickly because the midazolam I administered will very soon wear off. When it does, I shall begin injections of propofol, an intravenous anesthetic, a longer-acting drug than the earlier one and more suitable for what is ahead.”

As he moved and spoke, Baudelio seemed transformed from his normal gaunt and ghostlike self to the teacher and practicing anesthesiologist he had once been. The same effect, a stirring of long-discarded dignity, had occurred shortly before the kidnap. But he showed no concern, then or now, that his skills were being criminally debased or that the circumstances he was sharing were despicable.

He continued, "Propofol is a tricky drug to use. The optimum dose for each individual varies, and if too much accumulates in the bloodstream death can result. So initially there must be experimental doses, closely monitored.”

Miguel asked, "Are you sure you can handle it?”

"If you have doubts,” Baudelio said sarcastically, "you are free to get someone else.”

When Miguel failed to answer, the ex-doctor went on, "Because these people will be unconscious when we transport them, we must be certain there is no vomiting and aspiration into the lungs. Therefore while we are waiting there will be a period of enforced starvation. However, they must not become dehydrated, so I shall give them fluids intravenously. Then at the end of two days, which you tell me is the time I have, we shall be ready to put them into those.” With his head, Baudelio gestured to the wall behind him.

Propped upright against the wall were two open funeral caskets, solidly constructed and silk-lined. One was smaller than the other. The ornamented hinged lids for both had been removed and stood alongside.

The caskets reminded Baudelio of a question. Pointing to Angus Sloane, he asked, "Do you want him prepared, or not?”

"If we take him, do you have the medical supplies to handle it?”

"Yes. There's a reserve of everything in case something goes wrong. But we'd need another His eyes returned to the caskets by the wall. Miguel said irritably, "I do not need to be told that.”

Still, he wondered. The original orders from Medellin and Sendero Luminoso specified abduction of the woman and the boy and then, as soon as possible afterward, their transfer to Peru. The caskets were to be a covert means of transportation; a phony cover story had been devised to forestall an exit search by U.S. Customs. Once in Peru the prisoners would become prize hostages—high-stakes bargaining chips against the fulfilment of unique demands by Sendeio Luminoso, their nature yet to be disclosed. But would the unexpected addition of Crawford Sloane's father be regarded as an added prize or, at this point, a needless risk and burden?

If there had been some way to do so, Miguel would have sought an answer from his superiors. But the only secure communication channel was not open to him at that moment, and to telephone on one of the cellular phones would leave the record of a call. Miguel had been emphatic with everyone in the Hackensack operating group that the phones were solely for vehicle-to-vehicle or vehicle-to-headquarters use. Positively no calls were to be made to other numbers. The few outside calls that were necessary had been made from public pay phones.