Arthur Hailey - Evening News

Therefore the decision was his alone. He must also consider that obtaining an extra casket meant taking additional risks. Was it worth it?

Miguel reasoned that it was. From experience, he knew it was almost a certainty that after Sendero Luminoso's ransom demands were made known, one of the captives would have to be killed and the body dumped where it would be found—all to make the point that the kidnappers were serious. Possession of Angus Sloane would mean an extra body for that purpose, leaving either the woman or the boy to be executed later if it became necessary to make the same point twice. So in that sense the extra captive was a bonus.

Miguel told Baudelio, "Yes, the old man goes.”

Baudelio nodded. Despite his outward assurance, he was nervous around Miguel today because, the night before, Baudeho had committed what he now recognized as a serious mistake, a possible breach of everyone's security. While he was alone, in a moment of profound loneliness and dejection, he had used one of the cellular phones to call Peru.

It was a woman he had spoken to, his slatternly live—in companion and only friend, whose frequently drunken companionship he sorely missed. It was because of Baudelio's continuing anxiety about that call that he was slow to react when suddenly, unexpectedly, a crisis confronted him.

* * *

Jessica, during the struggle outside the Larchmont supermarket, had had only a minute or two, first of shock, then horror, to grasp the enormity of what was happening. Even after her screams had been silenced by the gag slapped over her mouth, she continued to struggle fiercely and desperately, aware that Nicky, too, had been seized by the unknown brutes around them and that Angus had been savagely struck down. But moments later, as the strong injected sedative circulated through her bloodstream, blackness supervened and she fell into deep unconsciousness.

But now, without knowing how long it had lasted, she was reviving, her memory returning. She became aware, dimly at first and then more clearly, of sounds around her. She tried to move, to speak, but found she could do neither. When she transferred the effort to her eyes, they would not open.

It was as if she were at the bottom of a well of darkness, attempting to do something, anything, but able to do nothing.

Then, as more moments passed, the voices became clearer, the awful memory of events at Larchmont sharpened.

At last Jessica's eyes opened.

Baudelio, Socorro and Miguel were all looking elsewhere and failed to see it happen.

Jessica was aware of feeling coming back into her body but could not understand why her arms and legs wouldn't move, except for the smallest distance. Then she saw that her nearer arm, the left, was constricted by a strap and realized she was on what looked like a hospital bed, and that her other arm and both legs were restricted in the same way.

She turned her head slightly and froze in horror at what she saw.

Nicky was on another bed, imprisoned like herself. Beyond him Angus, too, was tied down with ropes. And then—Oh, nol Oh, god!—she glimpsed the two open funeral caskets, one smaller than the other, clearly intended for herself and Nicky.

In a single instant she began to scream and struggle wildly. Somehow, in her demmted terror, she managed to get her left arm free.

Hearing the scream, the three conspirators swung toward her. For a moment Baudelio, who should have taken instant action, was too startled to move. By then Jessica had seen them all.

Still struggling wildly, she reached out with her left hand, trying desperately to find something to use as a weapon to protect herself and Nicky. The table of instruments was beside her. As her fingers groped frantically, she seized what felt like a kitchen paring knife. It was a scalpel.

Now Baudelio, having collected his wits, raced toward her. Seeing Jessica's free arm, he tried to refasten it with Socorro's help.

But Jessica was faster. In her desperation she reached out with the metal object, slashing wildly, managing to gash Baudelio's face, then Socorro's hand. At first, thin red lines appeared on both. A moment later blood gushed out.

Baudelio ignored the pain and tried to secure that flailing arm. Miguel, hurrying forward, hit Jessica savagely with his fist, then helped Baudelio. With Baudelio's wound dripping blood onto Jessica and the cot, they managed to re-strap Jessica's arm.

Miguel retrieved the scalpel. Though Jessica still struggled, it was to no avail. Defeated and helpless, she broke down in tears.

Then, another complication. Nicky's sedation was also wearing off. Becoming aware of the shouting, and of his mother nearby, he returned to consciousness more quickly. He too began screaming, but despite his struggles couldn't free himself from the restraining straps.

Angus, who had been sedated later than the other two, did not stir.

By now the noise and confusion were overwhelming, but Baudelio and Socorro both knew their own wounds had to be treated ahead of anything else. Socorro, with the lesser injury, put a temporary adhesive dressing on her own cut hand, then turned to aid Baudelio. She taped gauze pads over his face, though they were quickly soaked with blood.

Recovering from initial shock, he nodded an acknowledgment, then pointed to the assembled equipment and murmured, “Help me.”

Socorro tightened the strap above Jessica's left elbow. Then Baudelio inserted a hypodermic needle into a vein and injected the propofol he had prepared earlier. Jessica, watching and screaming, fought against the drug's effect until her eyes closed and once more she was unconscious.

Baudelio and Socorro, moved on to Nicky and repeated the process. He, too, stopped his painful cries and slumped back, his brief period of awareness ended.

Then, rather than take a chance on the old man regaining consciousness and causing trouble, Angus was also given propofol.

Miguel, while not interfering in the latter stages, had been glowering. Now he accused Baudelio, "You incompetent asshole!” Eyes blazing, he stormed on, "Pinche cabron! You could ruin everything! Do you know what you are doing?”

"Yes, I know,” Baudelio said. Despite the gauze pads, blood was streaming down his face.”I made an error of judgment. I promise it will not happen again.”

Without replying, his face flushed with anger, Miguel stalked out.

When he had gone, Baudelio used a portable mirror to inspect his bloody wound. Immediately be knew two things. First, he would carry a scar, running the full length of his face, for the remainder of his life. Second, and more important, the gaping, open cut needed to be closed and sutured at once. In present circumstances he could not go to a hospital or another doctor. Baudelio knew there was no other choice than to do it himself, however difficult and painful that might be. As best she could, Socorro would have to help.

During his early medical training, Baudelio, like any student, had learned to suture minor wounds. Later, as an anesthesiologist, he watched hundreds of incisions being stitched. Then, while working for the Medellin cartel, he had done some wound repairs himself and knew the procedures needed now.

Feeling weak, he sat himself in front of the mirror and told Socorro to bring his regular medical bag. From it he selected surgical needles, silk thread and a local anesthetic, lidocaine.

He explained to Socorro what, between them, they would do. As usual, she said little except an occasional "Si”or "jesta bien!” Then, without further discussion, Baudelio began to inject lidocaine along the margins of his wound.

The whole procedure took almost two hours and, despite the local anesthetic, the pain was excruciating. Several times Baudelio came close to fainting. His hand shook frequently, which made the sutures uneven. Adding to his difficulties was the awkward, reverse effect of working with a mirror. Socorro passed him what he asked for and, once or twice when he was near collapse, supported him. In the end he managed to hold on and, though some clumsy sutures meant the residual scar would be worse than he had at first supposed, the gap in his cheek was closed and he knew the wound would heal.