Arthur Hailey - Evening News

”Take a rest,” Miguel said curtly.”There's time. We all leave at 7:40.”

Brawling in these last few hours would be a stupid waste. Besides, Miguel needed the men to finish digging the hole in which they would bury all the cellular phones and some medical equipment Baudelio would leave behind.

Burying the phones, in particular, was not an ideal arrangement and Miguel would have preferred to dump them somewhere in deep water. But while there was plenty of water in the New Jersey—New York area, the chances of doing something like that without being observed were not good—at least in the short time available.

Later that day, when the hole was refilled, Julio and Luis should be able to rake leaves over the surface, leaving no trace of what was beneath.

Carlos, to whom Miguel went next, was in another of the outbuildings, burning papers in an iron stove. Carlos, young and well educated, had organized the month-long surveillance records and photos of visitors to the Sloane house, all of which was now feeding the fire.

When Miguel told him about the evening departure, Carlos seemed relieved. His thin lips twitched and he said, " Que bueno l”Then his eyes resumed their normal hardness.

Miguel had been aware of the strain of the past forty-eight hours on everyone, Carlos especially, perhaps because of his youth. But commendably the younger man had kept himself under control and Miguel foresaw a command terrorism role for Carlos before too long.

A small pile of what appeared to be Rafael's clothing was beside the stove. Miguel, Rafael and Baudelio would all wear dark suits during the departure process by air when, to anticipate a possible U.S. Government inspection, they would pose as mourners, using a carefully designed cover story. Everything else would be left behind.

Miguel pointed to the clothes, "Don't burn those—too much smoke. Go through the pockets, take everything out and remove any labels. Then bury the rest.” He gestured in the direction of the digging outside.”Tell the others.”

"Okay.” When he had attended to the fire again, Carlos said, "We should have flowers.”

"Flowers?”

"Some on the casket that goes in the hearse, maybe on the others. It's what a family would do.”

Miguel hesitated. He knew Carlos was right and it was something he hadn't thought of himself in planning their exit from the U.S., first via Teterboro, then aboard the Learjet to Opa Locka. Airport, Florida, from where they would fly directly to Peru.

Originally, when Miguel had expected only two unconscious captives, he had planned to make two journeys with the hearse between the Hackensack house and Teterboro Airport, conveying one casket at a time, which was all the hearse would hold. But three journeys with three caskets were too many and would entail too great a risk; therefore Miguel had devised a new plan.

One casket—Baudelio would decide which—would be transported to Teterboro in the hearse. The repainted GMC truck of "Serene Funeral Homes”would carry the other two.

The Lear 55LR, Miguel knew, was configured with a cargo door that allowed plenty of room for loading two caskets. Getting a third in might be difficult, but he was sure it could be done.

Still weighing Carlos's suggestion, he thought: The addition of flowers would make their cover story more convincing. At Teterboro they would have to pass through airport security. Probably, too, there would be supplemental police because of the kidnap alert, and questions were almost certain to be asked about the caskets and their contents. Some tense moments were likely and Teterboro, as Miguel saw it, was the key to their safe departure. At Opa Locka, from where they would actually leave the U.S., he anticipated no problems.

Miguel decided to take a small risk now to help offset the large one later. He nodded.”Yes, flowers.”

"I'll take one of the cars,” Carlos said.”I know where to go in Hackensack. I'll be careful.”

"Use the Plymouth.” It had been repainted dark blue and had license plates not previously used, as Rafael had pointed out.

After leaving Carlos, Miguel sought out Baudelio. He found him, with Socorro, in the large room on the second floor of the main house which by this time resembled a hospital ward. Baudelio, appearing like a patient himself, had dressings over the right side of his face, covering the stitches he had put in following Jessica's wild slashing during her brief consciousness.

Normally Baudelio appeared gaunt, pallid and older than he was, but today the effect was intensified. His face was sickly white and his movements clearly required an effort. But he was continuing with preparations for departure and after Carlos informed him of the 7:40 P.m. time, Baudelio acknowledged, "We will be ready.”

Under prompting from Miguel, the ex-doctor confirmed that his day and a half of experimenting with the drug propofol had shown him how much should be administered to each of the three captives to achieve deep unconsciousness for specific periods. This knowledge was necessary for the times when each "patient” would be left unattended and unmonitored in one of the sealed caskets.

Also, the enforced starvation period for all three—which would be fifty-six hours by departure time—was satisfactory. There should be no vomiting or aspiration into the lungs, though as extra precautions against choking and suffocation, Baudelio added, an airway tube would be placed in each throat and the bodies turned on their sides before the caskets were closed. Meanwhile, the intravenous injection of fluids had prevented dehydration. From transparent bags of glucose, on stands beside each of the unconscious trio, drip tubes led to catheters in their arms.

Miguel paused, looking down at the three bodies. They appeared peaceful, their faces untroubled. The woman had a certain beauty, he thought; later, if opportunity arose, he might make use of her sexually. The man looked dignified, like an old soldier at rest which, according to news reports, he was. The boy seemed frail, his face thin; perhaps the enforced starvation had left him weak, which didn't matter as long as he was alive on arrival in Peru, as had been promised to Sendero Luminoso. All three were pale with only a little color in their cheeks, but were breathing evenly. Satisfied, Miguel turned away.

The funeral caskets into which Angus, Jessica and Nicky would be moved shortly before the general exodus to Teterboro Airport were horizontal on trestles. Miguel was aware, because he had watched Rafael do it under guidance from Baudelio, that a series of tiny vent holes had been drilled into each. Almost invisible, they would admit fresh air.

”What is that?” Miguel pointed to a jar of crystals next to the caskets.

”Soda lime granules,” Baudelio answered.”They're spread around inside to counter carbon dioxide from exhaled breath. There'll also be an oxygen cylinder, controllable from outside.”

Mindful that during the difficult hours ahead Baudelio's medical skills would be vital to them all, Miguel queried, "What else?”

The ex-doctor motioned to Socorro.”Tell him. You'll be doing it with me.”

Socorro had been watching and listening, her face inscrutable as always. Miguel still had questions in his mind about the woman's total commitment, but today was distracted by her provocative body, its sensuous movements, her blatant sexuality. As if she read his thoughts, there was a hint of taunting in her voice.

”If any of them needs to piss, even unconscious, they might move and make noise. So before closing those"—Socorro pointed to the caskets—"we'll insert catheters. That's tubes in the men's cocks and the bitch's cunt. Entiendes ?”

Miguel said testily, "I know about catheterization.” On the point of telling her his father was a doctor, he checked himself. A moment's weakness, the influence of a woman, had almost led him to reveal a detail of his background, something he never did.