Arthur Hailey - Evening News

Still groping for a possible linkage, Kettering asked, "Would you mind telling me why?”

"The whole business is too complex for that simple explanation."

"Obviously, you knew the woman who was employed here. Did you know the man, Salaverry?”

"Unfortunately—as it's since turned out—yes.”

'Will you explain that?”

Armando hesitated before answering.”My inclination is to be frank with you, Mr. Kettering, mostly because I think that what we've learned at this bank during the past ten days will come out anyway, and I know you to be fair in your reporting. However, I have an obligation to the bank. We are a substantial and respected establishment in Latin America, as well as having this and other toeholds in the United States. Is it possible you could wait a day or two, giving me time to consult with senior management outside this country?”

There was a connection! Kettering's instincts again, and he shook his head decisively.”It isn't possible to wait. There's a critical situation involving safety and lives.” It was time, he decided, to do some revealing of his own.

”Mr. Armando, at CBA we have reason to believe your bank was involved in some way with the kidnapping two weeks ago of Mrs. Crawford Sloane and two other members of the Sloane family. I'm certain you've heard about it. So the question arises: Is this other episode—the deaths of Efferen and Salaverry—related to the kidnap?”

If Armando had been troubled before, Kettering's pronouncement had the effect of an incremental bolt of lightning. Apparently overwhelmed, he put his elbows on his desk and his head in his hands. After several seconds he raised his eyes.

”Yes, it's possible,” he said in a whisper.”Now I see it. It's not only possible, it's likely.” He went on wearily, "A selfish notion, I know, but I'm due to retire in just a few months and my thought right now is: Why couldn't all this have waited until I had gone?”

"I understand your feelings.” Kettering tried to curb his impatience.”But the fact is, you and I are here and we are involved. Obviously we each have different information and, equally obviously, we'll both be ahead if we exchange it.”

"I agree,” Armando conceded.”Where should we begin?”

"Let me. A large sum of money, at least ten thousand dollars in cash and probably a good deal more, is known to have passed through your bank and aided the kidnappers.”

The manager nodded gravely.”Putting together your knowledge and mine, it is definitely a great deal more money.” He stopped.”If I help fill in some details, is it essential that you quote me directly?”

Kettering considered.”Probably not. There's an arrangement called 'background, not for attribution.' If you wish, we'll talk on that basis.”

"I'd prefer it.” Armando paused, collecting his thoughts. "Within this bank we have a number of accounts for several delegations to the United Nations. I won't go into those, except to say our bank has strong ties with certain countries; it's why this office is conveniently close to the UN. Various people in UN delegations have authority over those accounts and one in particular was controlled by Mr. Salaverry.”

"An account belonging to the Peruvian delegation?”

"Connected with the Peruvian delegation—yes. Though I'm not sure how many people knew about that account, other than Salaverry who had authority to sign and use it. You should understand that any UN delegation may have a number of accounts, some for special purposes.”

"Okay, but let's concentrate on the important one.”

"Well, for the past several months, substantial sums have been coming into that account and going out—all legitimately, with nothing irregular being done by the bank, except for one unusual thing.”

“Which was?”

'Miss Efferen, who had considerable responsibilities here as an assistant manager, went out of her way to handle the account herself, at the same time shielding me and others from direct knowledge of the account's existence or what was going on.

"In other words, the source of the money coming in and who it was paid out to was kept secret.”

Armando nodded.”That's the way it was.”

"And to whom was it paid out?”

"In every instance to Jose Antonio Salaverry, on his signature. There are no other signatures in the account and every payment was in cash.”

"Let's go back a bit,” Kettering said.”You've told us you reject the police conclusion about the way Efferin and Salaverry died. Why?”

"When I began to discover things last week and this, I thought that whoever was passing money through that account —assuming Salaverry to be an intermediary, which I think he was—probably did the killings, arranging them to look like murder-suicide. But now you tell me that the kidnappers of the Sloane family were involved, it seems likely they could have been the ones.”

Though the wizened little manager had been under strain and was near retirement, his reasoning powers were still good, Kettering thought. He observed that Mony was fidgeting and advised, "If you have questions, Jonathan, ask away.”

Mony put aside some notes he had been making and sat forward in his chair.”Mr. Armando, if what you say is true, can you make a guess why those two people were killed?”

The manager shrugged.”In my opinion they probably knew too much.”

"For instance—the names of the kidnappers?”

"Again, from what Mr. Kettering has told me, that would seem a probability.”

"And what about the source of the money that the man, Salaverry, controlled. Do you know where that money came from?”

For the first time the manager hesitated.”Since Monday, I've had discussions with members of the Peruvian delegation at the UN—they are conducting an investigation of their own. What they've discovered so far and we've conferred about has been confidential . . .”

Kettering cut in, "We're not quoting you directly; we already agreed on that. So come on—let's have it! Who did the money come from?”

Armando sighed.”Let me ask you a question, Mr. Kettering. Have you ever heard of an organization called Sendero Luminoso or—”

Mony completed the sentence.”The Shining Path?”

Kettering's face tightened as he answered grimly, "Yes, I have.”

"We're not certain,” the manager said, "but they could be the ones who shoveled money into that account.”

* * *

After leaving Kettering and Mony on the Manhattan side of the Queensboro Bridge, Harry Partridge and Minh Van Canh took time out for an early lunch at Wolf's Delicatessen at West Fifth-seventh and Sixth. Over their mutual choice of gigantic hot pastrami sandwiches, Partridge regarded Minh who had seemed thoughtful today, unusually preoccupied, though it had not affected his efficient work at Godoy's Funeral Home. From across the restaurant table, Minh's squarish pockmarked face above his stocky figure looked back impassively between mouthfuls of mustard-laden pastrami.

”Something on your mind, old friend?” Partridge asked.

”A few things.” The answer was typical Van Canh and Partridge knew better than to press his question. Minh would respond with more detail in his own way, in his own good time.

Meanwhile Partridge confided to Minh his intention to fly to Colombia, perhaps the following day. He added that he wasn't sure whether anyone else should travel with him; he would talk with Rita about that. But when there was need for a camera crew, either tomorrow or later, he wanted Minh.

Van Canh considered, weighing a decision. Then he nodded.”Okay, I do it for you, Harry, and for Crawf. But it will be the last time, the last adventure.”

Partridge was startled.”You mean you're quitting?”

"I promised my family; we talked last night. My wife wants me at home more. Our children need me, my business too. So after we come back, I go.”