Arthur Hailey - Evening News

"But this is so damn sudden!”

Van Canh gave one of his rare faint smiles.”Sudden like an order at three in the morning to go to Sri Lanka or Gdansk?”

"I know what you mean, though I'll miss you like hell; things won't be the same without you.” Partridge shook his head sadly, though the decision did not surprise him. As a Vietnamese working for CBA News, Minh had survived extraordinary perils in the Vietnam war, near the end managing to get his wife and two children airlifted from the country before the fall of Saigon and all the while taking superb pictures of history on the run.

In the years following, the Van Canh family adapted to their new American life—the children, like so many Vietnamese immigrants, studying hard and earning high grades at school and now college. Partridge knew them well and admired, sometimes envied the family's solidarity. As part of it, they lived frugally while Minh saved and invested most of his substantial CBA pay, his economies so obvious that among colleagues a rumor now existed that Minh was a millionaire.

The last was possible, Partridge knew, because over the past five years Minh had purchased several small camera stores in New York suburbs, linking them and significantly enlarging their business with the aid of his wife, Thanh.

It was reasonable, too, that at this point in his life Minh should decide he had had enough of travel and prolonged absences, and had taken sufficient risks, including joining Harry Partridge on dangerous assignments.

”Speaking of your business, how is it going?” Partridge asked.

”Very well.” Again Minh smiled, adding, "But it has become more than Thanh can manage while I am away.”

"I'm pleased for you,” Partridge said, "because no one deserves it more. And I hope we'll still see each other once in a while.”

"You can count on it, Harry. In our home your name will stay first on our list of honored guests.”

On the way back from lunch, after leaving Van Canh, Partridge stopped at a sporting goods store to buy some heavy socks, a pair of hiking boots and a sturdy flashlight. He suspected he might need all three quite soon. By the time he returned to CBA, it was mid afternoon.

In the task force conference room, Rita Abrams waved him over.”A man's been trying to reach you. He's called three times since this morning. Wouldn't leave his name, but said it's essential he speak to you today. I told him sooner or later you'd be back.”

"Thanks. There's something I want to tell you. I've decided I should go to Bogota . . .”

Partridge stopped as he and Rita looked up at the sound of hurried footsteps approaching the conference room. A moment later Don Kettering entered with Jonathan Mony close behind.

”Harry! Rita!” Kettering said, his voice breathless from hurrying, "I think we have the can of worms—wide open!”

Rita glanced around her, aware of others in the room. "Let's go in a private office,” she said, and led the way to her own.

It took twenty minutes for Kettering, aided occasionally by Mony, to describe all that they had learned. Kettering produced the New York Post report of the Salaverry-Efferen alleged murder-suicide, a copy made by the American-Amazonas Bank manager before they left. The two correspondents and Rita knew that when this meeting was over, CBA News research would routinely obtain all other material on the same subject.

After Rita read the clipping, she asked Kettering, "Do you think we should start investigative work on those two deaths?”

"Maybe some, though it's incidental now. The real story is the Peru connection.”

"I agree,” Partridge said, "and Peru has come up before.” He remembered his conversation two days ago with Manuel Leon Seminario, owner-editor of the Lima-based Escena. While nothing specific had emerged, Seminario had said, "In Peru nowadays kidnapping is almost a way of life.”

"Even though we have a Peru involvement,” Rita pointed out ' "let's not forget that we don't know for sure whether the kidnap victims have been taken out of this country.”

"I'm not forgetting,” Partridge said.”Don, do you have anything more?”

Kettering nodded.”Yes. Before I left the bank I had the manager agree to an inteiview on camera, maybe later today. He knows he may be sticking his neck out with the bank's owners, but he's a good old guy with a sense of responsibility and says he'll take his chances. If you like, Harry, I'll do that one too.”

"I do like. Anyway, it's your story.” Partridge turned to Rita.”Cancel what I said about going to Bogota. Now it's Lima. I want to be there early tomorrow.”

"And how much do we broadcast, when?”

'Everything we know, and soon. Exactly when, we'll discuss with Les and Chuck, but if possible I'd like a clear twenty four hours in Peru before an army of other correspondents gets there, which will happen as soon as we go with what we have.”

He continued, "So starting right now, we'll work all night putting everything together. Call everyone on the task force in for a meeting"— Partridge glanced at his watch: 3:15 P.m.—"at five o'clock.”

"Yessir!” Rita, enjoying action, smiled.

At the same moment, the phone on her desk rang. After answering, she covered the mouthpiece and told Partridge, "It's the same man—the one who's been trying to get you all day.,'

He took the phone.”This is Harry Partridge.”

"Don't use my name at any point in this conversation. Is that clear?” The caller's words sounded muffled, perhaps deliberately, but Partridge recognized the voice of his contact, the organized crime lawyer.

”Yes, it's clear.”

"You know who I am?”

"I do.”

"I'm calling from a pay phone, so the call's not traceable. And something else: If you ever name me as the source of what I'm about to tell you, I shall swear you're a. liar and deny it. That clear too?”

"It is."

"I've taken big risks to get what I have, and if certain people knew of this conversation it could cost me my life. So when this call ends, ray debt to you is paid in full. Understood?”

"Fully understood.”

The other three in the small office were silent, their eyes fixed on Partridge as the muffled voice, audible only to him, continued.

”Some clients I do business with have Latin American connections.” Connections with the cocaine trade , Partridge thought, but didn't say it.

”Just as I already told you, they wouldn't touch the kind of thing you've been inquiring about, but there are other things they get to hear.”

"I understand that,” Partridge said.

”All right, here it is, and the information is solid, I guarantee it. The people you are looking for were flown out of the United States last Saturday and are now imprisoned in Peru. Got that?”

"I have it.,” Partridge said.”May I ask one question?”

"No.”

"I need a name,” Partridge pleaded.”Who's responsible? Who is holding them?”

"Goodbye.”

"Wait, please wait! All right, I won't ask you to give a name, only do this: I'll speak a name and if I'm wrong, give me some kind of signal saying no. If I'm right, don't say anything. Will you do that?”

A pause, then, "Make it fast.”

Partridge took a breath before mouthing, "Sendero Luminoso.”

At the other end, silence. Then a click as the caller hung up.

Almost from the beginning, when Jessica regained consciousness in the darkened hut at Sion and discovered soon after that she, Nicky and Angus were prisoners in Peru, Jessica had accepted that she alone must provide their beleaguered trio with leadership and inspiration. Both qualities, she realized, were essential to their survival while they waited and hoped for eventual rescue. The alternative was profound despair, leading to an emotional surrender which could perhaps destroy them all.