Arthur Hailey - Evening News

The room itself was messy, with waste containers overflowing, ash trays full, dirty coffee cups abounding and discarded newspapers littering the floor. A price paid for keeping the task force offices locked was that cleaners had been unable to get in. Rita reminded herself to arrange for the place to be spruced up before Monday morning.

The "Sequence of Events”and "Miscellaneous”boards had been added to considerably. The most recent contribution was a summary of that morning's White Plains havoc, typed by Partridge. Frustratingly, though, there was still nothing conclusive on the boards about the kidnappers' identities or their victims' whereabouts.

”Reports, anyone?” Partridge asked.

Jaeger, who had lowered his feet and propelled his chair to the table, raised a hand.

”Go ahead, Norm.”

The veteran producer spoke in his quiet, scholarly fashion.”For most of today I've been telephoning Europe and the Middle East—our bureau chiefs, correspondents, stringers, fixers asking questions: What have they heard that is fresh or unusual about terrorist activity? Are there signs of peculiar movements of terrorism people? Have any terrorists, especially groups, disappeared from sight recently? If they have, is it possible they could be in the United States? And so on.”

Jaeger paused, shuffling notes, then continued, "There are some semi-positive answers. A whole group of Hezbollah disappeared from Beirut a month ago and haven't surfaced. But rumor puts them in Turkey, planning a new attack on Jews, and there's confirmation from Ankara that the Turkish police are searching for them. No proof, though. They could be anywhere.”The FARL—Lebanese Armed Revolutionary Factions are said to have people on the move, but three separate reports, including one from Paris, say that they're in France. Again no proof. Abu Nidal has disappeared from Syria and is believed to be in Italy where there are rumbles that he, the Islamic Jihad and Red Brigades are plotting something vicious.” Jaeger threw up his hands.”All these hoodlums are like slippery shadows, though the sources I've used have been reliable in the past.”

Leslie Chippingham entered the conference room, followed a moment later by Crawford Sloane. They joined the others at the table. As the meeting fell silent, the news president urged, "Carry on, please.”

As Jaeger continued, Partridge observed Sloane and thought the anchorman looked ghastly, even more pale and gaunt than yesterday, though it was not surprising with the growing strain.

Jaeger said, "The intelligence grapevine reports some more individual terrorist movements. I won't bother you with details except to say they're apparently confined to Europe and the Middle East. More important, the people I talked to don't believe there's been any terrorist exodus, certainly not in sizable numbers, to the U.S. or Canada. If there were, they say it's unlikely there'd be no word at all. But I've told everybody to keep looking, listening and reporting.”

"Thanks, Norm.” Partridge turned to Karl Owens.”I know you've been inquiring southward, Karl. Any results?”

"Nothing really positive.” The younger producer had no need to shuffle notes from his day of telephoning. Typical of his precise methodology, he had each phone call summarized on a four-by-six card, the handwriting neat, the cards sorted into order.

”I've talked with the same kind of contacts as Norm, asking similar questions—mine in Managua, San Salvador, Havana, La Paz, Buenos Aires, Tegucigalpa, Lima, Santiago, BogotA, Brasilia, Mexico City. As always, there's terrorist activity in most of those places, also reports about terrorists changing countries, crossing borders like commuters switching trains. But nothing in the intelligence mill fits a group movement of the kind we're looking for. I did stumble on one thing. I'm still working on it . . .”

"Tell us,” Partridge said.”We'll take it raw.”

"Well, it's something from Colombia. About a guy called Ulises Rodriguez.”

"A particularly nasty terrorist,” Rita said.”I've heard him referred to as the Abu Nidal of Latin America.”

"He's all of that,” Owens agreed, "and he's also believed to have been involved in several Colombian kidnappings. They don't get reported much here, but they happen all the time. Well, three months ago Rodriguez was reported as being in Bogota, then he simply disappeared. Those who should know are convinced he's active somewhere. There was a rumor he might have gone to London, but wherever he is, he's stayed successfully out of sight since June.”

Owens paused, referring to a card.”Now something else: On a hunch I called a Washington contact in U.S. Immigration and floated Rodriguez's name. Later, my source called me back and said that three months ago, which is about the time Rodriguez dropped out of sight, Immigration was warned by the CIA that he might attempt a U.S. entry through Miami. There's a federal arrest warrant out for him and Miami Immigration and Customs went on red alert. But he didn't show.”

"Or managed to get through undetected,” Iris Everly added.

”That's possible. Or he could have come in through a different doorway—from London, perhaps, if the rumor I mentioned was right. That's something else about him. Rodriguez studied English at Berkeley and speaks it without an accent—or, rather, with an American accent. What I'm saying is, he can blend in.”

"This gets interesting,” Rita said.”Is there anything more?”

Owens nodded.”A little.”

The others around the table were listening intently and Partridge reflected that only those in the news business understood just how much information could be assembled through contacts and persistent telephoning.

”The little that's on record about Rodriguez,” Owens said, "includes what I've just told you and that be graduated from Berkeley with the class of '72.”

Partridge asked, "Are there pictures of him?”

Owens shook his head.”I asked Immigration and came up nil. They say no one has a photo, which includes the CIA. Rodriguez has been careful. However, on that score we may have got lucky.”

"For chrissakes, Karl!” Rita complained.”If you must act like a novelist, get on with the story!”

Owens smiled. Patient plodding was his personal style. It worked and he had no intention of changing it for Abrams or anyone else.

”After learning about Rodriguez I called our San Francisco bureau and asked to have someone sent over to Berkeley to do some checking.” He glanced at Chippingham.”I invoked your name, Les. Said you'd authorized zip priority.”

The news president nodded as Owens continued.

”They sent Fiona Gowan who happens to be a Berkeley graduate, knows her way around. Fiona got lucky, especially on Saturday and—if you'll believe it—located an English Department faculty member who actually remembers Rodriguez from the Class of '72.”

Rita sighed.”We believe it.” Her tone said: Get on!

"Rodriguez, it seems, was a loner, had no close friends. Something else the faculty guy recalled was that Rodriguez was camera-shy, would never let anyone take his picture. The Daily Cal, the student newspaper, wanted to feature him in a group of foreign students; he turned them down. Eventually it got to be a joke, so a classmate who was a pretty good artist did a charcoal sketch of Rodriguez without his knowing. When the artist showed it around, Rodriguez flew into a rage. Then he offered to buy the picture and did, paying more than it was worth. The Catch-22 was that the artist had already made a dozen copies which he doled out to his friends. Rodriguez never knew that.”

"Those copies Partridge began.

”We're on to it, Harry.” Owens smiled, still refusing to be hurried.”Fiona's back in San Francisco, been working the phones all afternoon. It was a big job because the Berkeley English class of '72 had three hundred and eighty-eight members. Anyway she managed to scrape up names and some alumni home numbers, one leading to another. Just before this meeting she called me to say she's located one of the copy sketches and will have it by tomorrow. Soon as it's in, San Fran bureau will transmit it to us.”