Arthur Hailey - Evening News

The other proviso concerned the kidnap task force.

”I don't want anyone—and that principally means you,” Margot Lloyd—Mason asserted, "going wild about spending money. You should be able to do whatever is necessary within the existing news budget.”

Chippingham said doubtfully, "I'm not so sure of that.”

"Then I'll give you a firm ruling. No activity exceeding budget is to be embarked on without my advance approval. Is that clear?”

Chippingham wondered whether the woman had blood in her veins or ice?

Aloud, he answered, "Yes, Margot, it's clear, though I'll remind you that our ratings for the National Evening News shot up last night and I expect that to continue while this crisis lasts.”

"Which merely goes to show,” she answered coolly, "that unfortunate events can be turned to profit.”

While involving the corporate president in this evening's broadcast seemed appropriate, Chippingham also hoped it might soften her attitude toward some special expenditures which, in his view, would be needed.

On air, Margot spoke with authority, using words scripted for her but with revisions of her own.

"I am speaking for all the people of this network and our parent company, Globanic Industries, “Margot said, "when I declare that our total resources are available in the search for the missing members of the Sloane family. For all of us, in fact, it is a family affair.”

"We deplore what has happened. We urge law enforcement agencies to continue their strongest efforts to bring the criminals to justice. We hope to see our friend and colleague, Crawford Sloane, united with his wife, son and father in the shortest possible time.”

In the original draft there had been no reference to Globanic Industries. When Margot proposed it while reviewing her script in the privacy of Chippingham's office, he advised, "I wouldn't do that. The public has an image of CBA as an entity, a piece of Americana. Bringing in Globanic's name makes that image cloudy, to no one's advantage.”

"What you'd like to pretend,” Margot retorted, "is that CBA is some kind of crown jewel, and independent. Well, it's neither. Over at Globanic they're more apt to think of CBA as a pimple on their ass. The reference stays in. What you can take out, d propos Sloane, are those words, 'our friend and colleague.' Kidnap or not, I might choke on them.”

Chippingham suggested dryly, "How about a trade-off? I'll promise to love Globanic if, for one broadcast, you'll be Crawford's friend.”

For once, Margot laughed aloud.”Shit, yes.”

* * *

The lack of progress after a frantic first day for the task force did not surprise Harry Partridge. He had been involved in similar projects in the past and knew it took members of any new team at least a day to orient themselves. Just the same, it was imperative there be no more delay in formulating plans.

”Let's have a working dinner,” he told Rita during the afternoon.

She then arranged for the six principals in the task force Partridge, Rita, Jaeger, Iris, Owens, Cooper—to meet for Chinese food immediately after the National Evening News. Rita chose Shun Lee West on West Sixty—fifth, near Lincoln Center, a favorite with TV news folk. In making the reservation she told the maitre d', Andy Yeung, "Don't bother us with menus. You order a good meal and give us a table out of the mainstream, where we can talk.”

* * *

During a commercial that followed the five-minute kidnap report at the top of the National Evening News, Partridge eased out of the anchor desk chair and Crawford Sloane moved in. As he did, Sloane gripped Partridge's arm and murmured, "Thank you, Harry—for everything.”

"Some of us will be working tonight,” Partridge assured him, "trying to come up with ideas.”

"I know. I'm grateful.”Routinely, Sloane skimmed through the scripts an assistant placed in front of him and, watching, Partridge was shocked by the other man's appearance. Not even makeup could conceal ravages the past day and a half had wrought. Sloane's cheeks appeared hollow, there were bags beneath his eyes, which were red-rimmed; perhaps, Partridge thought, he had been crying in private.

”Are you okay?” he whispered.”Sure you want to do this?”

Sloane nodded.”Those bastards won't put me out of action.”

The studio floor manager called out, "Fifteen seconds.”

Partridge moved from camera range, then quietly left the news studio. Outside he watched a monitor until satisfied that Sloane would make it through to the end of the news. Then he left by taxi for Shun Lee West.

* * *

Their table was at the rear of the restaurant in a relatively quiet comer.

Near the end of the first course—a steaming, delicately flavored winter melon soup—Partridge addressed Cooper. The young Englishman had spent most of the day in Larchmont, talking with everyone who had knowledge of the kidnapping, including the local police. He had returned to task force head- quarters in the late afternoon.

”Teddy, let's hear your impressions so far, and any ideas on where we go from here?”

Cooper pushed his empty soup dish away and wiped his lips. He opened a well-worn exercise book and answered, "Okay, impressions first.”

The pages in front of him were crowded with scribbled notes.

"First off, it was a pro job all the way. The blokes who put this together didn't muck about. They planned it like a railway timetable and made sure they left no evidence behind. Secondly, these were pros who had lotsa money.”

Norman Jaeger asked, "How do you know?”

"Hopin' you'd ask.” Cooper grinned as he looked around the table.”For one thing, everything suggests that whoever did the snatch kept a close eye on the house for a long time before they made their move. You've heard about the neighbors who now say they saw the motors outside the Sloane house, and once or twice vans, and thought the people in 'em were protecting Mr. S, not spying on him? Well, five people've reported that since yesterday; today I talked to four. They all said they saw those motors on and off for three weeks, maybe a month. Then we've got to consider Mr. S, who now believes he was followed.”

Cooper glanced at Partridge.”Harry, I read your notes on the info board and I believe Mr. S was right; he was trailed. I've a theory about that.”

While they were talking, fresh dishes had appearedsaut6ed shrimp with peppers, fried prawns, snow peas, fried rice. There was a pause to enjoy the hot food, then Rita urged, "How about that theory, Teddy?”

"Okay. Mr. S is a big TV star; he's used to being a public figure, watched wherever he goes, and that becomes a way of life. So as a sort of counterbalance he builds up a subconscious feeling of invisibility. He's not going to let stares from strangers, the turning heads or pointing fingers bother him. That's why he may have screened out the notion of being followed which I reckon he was, because it fits in with full-blown reconnaissance of the whole Sloane family.”

"Even if that's true,” Karl Owens asked, "where does it get us?”

Partridge said, "It helps us build a picture of the kidnappers. Keep going, Teddy.”

"Okay, so it cost the snatchers to take all that time and do all that spying. The same thing goes for all those motors they used; also a van, maybe two, and the Nissan van yesterday—a regular fleet. And there's something special about those motors.”

Cooper turned a notebook page.”The Larchmont cops let me see those motor reports. Some interesting things come out.

”Now, when somebody sees a car, they may not remember much about it, but one thing most of us do remember is the color. Well, those people who reported seeing the motors described eight different colors. So I asked myself. Did the gang really have eight different cars?”