Arthur Hailey - Evening News

"They could have,” Iris Everly said, "if they were rental cars.,,

Cooper shook his head.”Not our lads; they'd be too cagey. They'd know that renting motors means identification—drivers' licenses, credit cards. Also, rental cars have license plates which can be traced.”

"So you've another theory,” Iris prompted.”Right?”

"Right. What I think happened is the snatchers most probably had three motors and resprayed them, say once a week, hoping to lessen the chances of being noticed. Okay, it worked. Only thing was, in the respraying these blokes made a stupid mistake.”

More food had arrived—two heaped platters of Peking duck. The others reached out with chopsticks and ate hungrily while Cooper continued.

”Let's go back a mo. One of those Larchmont neighbors noticed more than the others about these motors. That's because he's in the motor insurance business, knows makes and models.”

Jaeger interrupted.”All this is interesting, my British friend, but if you want any of this delicious duck you'd best dive in before us greedy Yanks finish it.”

"International duck!” Cooper joined with relish in the eating, then resumed.

”Anyway, this insurance geezer noticed the makes and models of the motors and he says he saw three, no more—a Ford Tempo, a Chevy Celebrity and a Plymouth Reliant, all this year's models, and he remembers some of the colors.”

Partridge asked, "So how do you figure the repainting?”

“This afternoon,” Cooper said, "your mate, Bert Fisher, phoned some car dealers for me. What came out was that some of the colors people say they saw aren't available for those models. For instance, the insurance geezer, he said he saw a yellow Ford Tempo, but there's no such color made. Same goes for a blue Plymouth Reliant. Someone else described a green motor, yet not one of those three makes comes in green.”

Owens said thoughtfully, "You may be on to something. It's possible, of course, that one car could have been in an accident and repainted, but not likely three.”

"Something else about that,” Jaeger put in, "is that when auto body shops repaint cars, they mostly do it in manufacturer's colors. Unless somebody asks for an offbeat shade.”

"Which wouldn't be likely,” Iris contributed, "remembering what Teddy said just now about the people we're looking for being savvy. They'd want to be inconspicuous, not the other way.”

"All of which I agree with, folks,” Cooper said, "and it leads to the thought that the mob we're looking for did the spray jobs themselves, not giving much thought to current colors, perhaps riot even knowing about them.”

Partridge said doubtfully, "That's moving pretty far into supposition country.”

It was Rita who asked, "But is it? Let me remind you of what Teddy pointed out earlier. That the people we're talking about practically ran a fleet of vehicles—at least three cars, one truck and maybe two, a Nissan passenger van for the kidnap . . . Anyway, five we know of. Now, it makes sense that they'd want to keep them together in one place, which would have to be sizable. So isn't it likely it would be somewhere big enough to include a paint shop?”

"An operating headquarters is what you mean,” Jaeger said. He turned to Teddy; an increasing respect had replaced the older man's skepticism of the morning.”Isn't that what you're talking about? Where you're leading us?”

"Yep.” Cooper beamed.”Sure am.”

Their meal—eventually to include eight courses—had continued. Now before the group was saut6ed lobster with ginger and scallions. They reached for portions thoughtfully, concentrating on what had just been said.

”An operating center,” Rita mused.”Maybe for the people involved, whoever they are, as well as vehicles. We know from the old lady's description there were either four or five men at the kidnap scene. There could be others offstage. Wouldn't it make sense for everything to ic together?”

"Including the hostages,” Jaeger added.

”If we assume all that,” Partridge said, "and okay, let's do it for the moment, obviously the next question is where?”

"We don't know, of course,” Cooper said, "but some hard thinking might suggest the kind of place it could be; also, maybe, how far it was—or is—from Larchmont.”

With amusement, Iris queried, "Hard thinking you've already done?”

"Well,” Cooper said, "since you ask

"Quit showing off, Teddy,” Partridge said sharply.”Get to the point.”

Cooper responded, unperturbed, "I tried to think the way a snatcher would plan. So I asked the question: After the snatch, when I'd grabbed what I wanted, what would I want next?”

"How's this for an answer?” Rita said.”To be safe from pursuit; therefore go like hell and get under cover quickly.”

Cooper smacked his palms together.”Bleedin' right! And where better to be under cover than at that HQ hangout?”

Owens asked, "Am I reading you right? You're suggesting the HQ wasn't far away?”

"Here's how I see it,” Cooper said.”First off, it needs to be well clear of Larchmont; staying anywhere in the area would be too risky. But, second, it shouldn't be too far. The snatchers would know that in the shortest time, maybe minutes, there'd be an alarm and police crawling all over the place. Therefore they'd have calculated how much time they'd got.”

Rita asked, "If you're still inside their minds, how much time?”

"Guessing, I'd say half an hour. Even that long would be a bit iffy, but they'd have to chance it to get far enough away.”

Owens said slowly, "Translating that into miles remembering the area . . . I'd say twenty-five.”

"Just what I figured.” Cooper produced a folded New York area map and opened it. On the map, taking Larchmont as the center, he had drawn a crayon circle. He prodded within the circle with a finger.”Twenty-five-mile radius. I reckon the headquarters is somewhere inside here.”

At 8:40 P.m. on Friday evening, while the CBA News group was still dining at Shun Lee West, a buzzer sounded in the mid Manhattan apartment of the Peruvian diplomat, Jose Antonio Salaverry. It signaled a visitor.

The apartment, on Forty-eighth Street near Park Avenue, was part of a twenty-floor complex. Although a doorman was stationed on the main floor, visitors used an outside intercom system to announce their arrival, then were admitted directly by the building's tenants.

Salaverry had been edgy since his meeting with Miguel that morning at United Nations headquarters and was anxious to hear that the Medellin/Sendero Luminoso group was safely out of the country. Their departure, he thought, would end his own association with the frightening matter that had filled his mind since yesterday.

He and his banker friend, Helga Efferen, had been drinking vodka-tonics in front of a fireplace for more than an hour, neither of them feeling inclined to go to the kitchen to prepare food or to telephone and order it sent in. While the liquor had relaxed them physically, it had removed none of their anxiety.

They were an oddly matched pair— Salaverry, small and weasely; Helga, whom the single word "ample”best described. She was big-boned, abundantly fleshed, with cornucopian breasts, and a natural blonde. Nature, however, had stopped short of making her beautiful; there was a harshness to her face and an acidic manner that repelled some men, though not Salaverry. From their first meeting in the bank he had been drawn to Helga, perhaps seeing in her a reflection of himself and sensing, too, her hidden but strong sexuality.

If so, he had been right on both counts. They shared the same points of view, which were based mainly on pragmatism, selfishness and avarice. As to sex, during their frequent fornicating an aroused Helga became a frenzied whale to Jose Antonio's Jonah, surrounding and almost swallowing him. He loved it. Helga was also given to crying out loudly, sometimes screaming, at her climax, which made him feel macho and—in every way—bigger than he was.