Arthur Hailey - Evening News

Forever after, especially at times of terrible loneliness, he remembered Gemma as she was at that magic moment—age twenty-three, beautiful, with long, dark, lustrous hair, brown and sparkling eyes, and joyous with life like a fragrant morning flower in fresh spring air on a green and sunlit hillside.

With unaccustomed awkwardness, he pointed to the rose. Later he would learn that she had gone forward and purloined it from the Pope's own cabin. Now he asked, "is this for me?”

She smiled down at him and, with a soft Italian accent, said, "I brought it because you are a good, sweet man. I like you.”

Even to himself his answer seemed inadequate and banal.”I like you, too.”

But banal or not, in those few moments his great and lasting love for Gemma had begun.

* * *

Partridge drew his thoughts back to the present shortly before the Air Canada flight landed in New York. He was first off the airplane and strode quickly through La Guardia terminal. With only hand baggage, he was able to leave the airport without delay, taking a taxi to CBA News headquarters.

He headed for Chuck Insen's office, but found it unoccupied. A senior producer at the Horseshoe called across, "Hi, Harry! Chuck's at a press conference that's been arranged for Crawf. The whole thing's being taped. You'll be able to see it.”

Then, as Partridge walked toward the Horseshoe, the producer added, "Oh, in case no one's told you, Crawf's on the sidelines tonight. You'll be anchoring the news.”

That evening, in the Medellin gang's hideaway at Hackensack, Miguel kept a radio tuned to an all-news station. With several of the others, he also watched a portable television, switching between news programs, all featuring reports on the Sloane family kidnap.

Despite the intense interest and speculation, it was evident that nothing had been learned so far about the kidnappers' identities or motivations. Nor did law enforcement authorities know the escape route taken or of any specific areas where the kidnappers and their victims might have gone to ground. Some reports suggested that by now they could be many miles from New York. Others revealed that suspicious vehicles had been stopped and detained at roadblocks as far away as Ohio, Virginia and the Canadian border. Several criminal arrests had resulted from the police activity, but none was connected to the Sloanes.

Descriptions of a Nissan passenger van believed to have been used by the kidnappers were still circulating. It meant that the van abandoned by Carlos at White Plains had not been found. Carlos had returned safely to the Hackensack house hours ago.

Among Miguel and the others there was a sense of relief, though everyone knew that police forces all over North America were looking for them and their safety was only temporary. Because of the dangers still ahead, Miguel had established a guard roster. Even now Luis and Julio were patrolling outside with Beretta submachine guns, trying to stay in the shadows of the house and outbuildings.

Miguel knew that if their hideaway was discovered and the police moved in in force, there was little chance of any of them getting away. In that event, his original orders were clear: Neither of the kidnap victims was to be taken back alive. Now, the only thing that had changed was that the order applied to three instead of two.

Of the various TV news broadcasts Miguel watched, the one that interested him most was the National Evening News from CBA. It amused him that Crawford Sloane was not in his usual anchor position; the substitute was someone named Partridge whom Miguel remembered vaguely seeing before. Sloane, however, was interviewed on air and shown at a previously recorded press conference.

* * *

The press conference had been well attended by print, television and radio reporters, along with camera and sound crews. It was held in another CBA building, a block away from news headquarters. On a sound stage, folding chairs had been hastily set up; all were occupied, with many participants standing.

There were no formal introductions and Crawford Sloane began with a brief statement. He expressed his shock and anxiety, then appealed to the news media and the public for any information which might help disclose where his wife, son and father had been taken, and by whom. He announced that a CBA phone center with a WATS line number had been set up to receive information. The center was already staffed by operators and a supervisor.

A voice injected, "You'll be swamped with crank calls.”

Sloane responded, "We'll take our chances. All we need is one solid piece of knowledge. Someone, somewhere, has it.”

Twice during his statement Sloane had to pause to control emotion in his voice. Each time there was a sympathetic silence. A Los Angeles Times report next day described him as "dignified and impressive in agonizing circumstances.”

Sloane announced that he would answer questions.

At first the questioning was also sympathetic. But then, inevitably, some in the press corps weighed in with tougher queries.

An Associated Press woman reporter asked, "Do you think it's possible, as some are already speculating, that your family may have been seized by foreign terrorists?”

Sloane shook his head.”It's too early even to think about that.”

AP objected, "You're ducking the question. I asked if you thought it possible .”

Sloane conceded, "I suppose it's possible.”

Someone from a local TV station asked the perennial question, "How do you feel about that?”

Someone else groaned and Sloane wanted to answer, How the hell would you feel? Instead he replied, "Obviously, I hope it isn't true.”

A gray-haired former CBA correspondent, now with CNN, held up a copy of Sloane's book.”Do you continue to believe, as you wrote here, that 'hostages should be expendable,' and are you still opposed to paying ransom—as you put it, 'directly or indirectly, ever'?”

Sloane had anticipated the question and answered, "I don't believe that anyone as emotionally involved as I am at this moment can be objective about that.”

"Oh, come on, Crawf,” the CNN man persisted.”If you were standing here instead of me, you wouldn't let anyone get away with that. I'll put the question another way: Do you regret having written those words?”

"At this moment,” Sloane said, "I find myself wishing they weren't being quoted against me.”

Another voice called out, "They're not being used against you and that's still no answer.”

A woman reporter from an A_BC magazine program raised her penetrating voice.”I'm sure you're aware that your statement about American hostages being expendable caused a great deal of distress to families who have relatives still imprisoned in the Middle East. Do you have more sympathy for those families now?”

"I've always had sympathy,” Sloane said, "but right now I probably have a better understanding of those people's anguish.”

"Are you telling us that what you wrote was wrong?”

"No,” he said quietly, "I'm not saying that.”

"So if a ransom is demanded, you'll say adamantly no?”

He raised his hands helplessly.”You're asking me to speculate on something that hasn't occurred. I won't do that.”

While not enjoying what was happening, Sloane acknowledged mentally that at plenty of press conferences in the past he had played hardball as an interrogator himself.

An offbeat query came from Newsday.”Not much is known about your son Nicholas, Mr. Sloane.”

"That's because we keep our family life private. In fact, my wife insists on it.”

"It isn't private anymore,” the reporter pointed out.”One thing I've been told is that Nicholas is a talented musician and might become a concert pianist one day. Is that true?”