Arthur Hailey - Evening News

Angus was courageous, but too old and weak to be more than supportive, and ultimately even he might need to draw from Jessica's strength. Nicky, as always, must be Jessica's first concern.

Assuming they came through this nightmare safely—and Jessica refused to consider any other outcome—it was possible for it to leave forever a mental scar on Nicky. Jessica's intention, no matter what ordeals and privations lay ahead, was to see that it did not. She would teach Nicky, and Angus if necessary, that above all they must retain their self-respect and dignity.

And she knew how. She had taken a training course which some of her friends had thought of as a whim. It happened because Crawford, who really ought to have taken the course himself, had lacked the time. Jessica, feeling someone in the family should, had gone instead.

Oh, thank you and bless you, Brigadier Wade! I never dreamed, when I attended those drills and listened to your lectures, that I would need and make use of what you taught me .

Brigadier Cedric Wade, MC, DCM, had been a British Army sergeant in the Korean War and later an officer in the elite British SAS. Now retired and living in New York, he conducted small-scale anti-terrorism courses. His reputation was such that the U.S. Army sometimes sent him pupils.

In Korea, in 1951, Sergeant Wade was captured by the North Korean forces and for nine and a half months held in solitary confinement in an earthen pit below ground level, approximately ten feet square. Above his head were securely fastened bars, open to the sun and rain. At no point while imprisoned was he ever released from that lonely cell. During his time there he had minimal communication with his guards, had nothing to read, and could see only the sky above.

As he quietly described his experience in a lecture, which even now Jessica remembered almost word for word, " I knew at the start they intended to break my spirit. I was determined they never would and that however bad it got, even if I died in that hole, I would not lose my self-respect.”

He kept it, Brigadier Wade told members of his classes, by hanging on to whatever threads of normalcy and order he could. To begin, he assigned each corner of his tiny cell a separate function. An unpleasant one came first. He had no choice but to urinate and defecate on the cell floor. One corner was kept for that purpose only; he saw to it that no other portion of the cell was similarly debased. ”At first, the odor was terrible and sickening. After a while I got used to it because I knew I had to."

The opposite comer, as far away from the first as possible, was used for eating the meager food passed down to him. A third comer was for sleeping, the fourth for sitting to meditate. The center of the cell was used for exercises three times daily, including running in place. ”I reasoned that stayingfit was another way to keep myself a person, and preserve my dignity.”

He received a ration of drinking water daily, but none for ablutions. From the drinking water, he always saved a small portion with which he washed. ”It wasn't easy and I was sometimes tempted to drink it all, but I didn't and instead was always clean—something very important in the way you feel about yourself “

At the end of nine months, taking advantage of a guard's carelessness, Sergeant Wade escaped. Three days later he was recaptured and returned to the cell, but within two weeks American forces overran the North Koreans' position and released him. He made friendships then which, long afterward, resulted in his residence in the United States.

Something else Brigadier Wade taught Jessica and others was CQB—close quarters battle, a form of unarmed combat in which even a small, lightweight person with the proper skills could disarm an attacker and either blind that person or break an arm, a leg or the neck. Jessica had proved an agile and fast learning pupil.

Since arriving in Peru as a captive, there had been opportunities to make use of her CQB training, but each time Jessica had restrained herself, knowing such action would be self-defeating. Instead she kept her ability concealed, in reserve for some moment—if one should arise—when it could become decisive.

No such moment had arisen yet at Nueva Esperanza. Nor did the chance of one seem probable.

During those terrible first minutes when Jessica, Nicky and Angus were thrust into their separate cages, and Jessica wept on hearing Nicky sobbing, there was a period of mental dislocation and misery which even the best intentions could not bridge. Jessica, like the others, had succumbed to it.

But not for long.

Before ten minutes had passed, Jessica called out softly, "Nicky, can you hear me?”

After a pause, a subdued answer came back, "Yes, Mom,” The reply was followed by movement as Nicky approached the screen between their cells. Their eyes had adjusted to the semidarkness and the two could see each other, though not touch.

Jessica asked, "Are you okay?”

"I think so.” Then in a voice which quivered, "I don't like it here.”

"Oh, darling, neither do I. But until we can do something, we have to hold on. Keep reminding yourself that your father and a lot of others are searching for us.” Jessica hoped her voice sounded reassuring.

”I hear you, Jessie. You too, Nicky.” It was Angus, speaking from the cell on the far side of Nicky's, though his voice seemed weak.”Keep believing that we'll all get out of here. And we will.”

"Try to get some rest, Angus.” Jessica was remembering the beating her fattier-in-law had taken from Miguel in the hut where they all returned to consciousness, the grueling trek through the jungle and Angus's fall, the long journey by boat, and then his struggle here.

As she spoke, a shuffling of feet could be heard and from the shadows beyond the cells a figure moved into view. It was one of the gunmen who had accompanied them on the journey, a heavyset mustachioed man they would later identify as Ramon. He carried a Kalashnikov rifle and, aiming it at Jessica, ordered, " Silencio !”

About to protest, Jessica heard Angus advise softly, "Jessie, don't!” She curbed her impulse and they all fell silent. After a pause, the gun was lowered and Ramon returned to a chair in which he had been seated.

The experience proved to be their first with a succession of armed guards, one of whom was always on duty in the hut, the individual changing every four hours.

As they quickly discovered, the strictness of the guards varied. The most easygoing was Vicente, the man who had helped Nicky in the truck and, on Miguel's orders, had cut the ropes binding their wrists. Apart from motioning them to keep their voices lowered, Vicente allowed them to talk as much as they wished. Ramon was the strictest, permitting no talking at all, with the other guards somewhere in between.

During the times they talked, Jessica shared with Nicky and Angus recollections of her anti-terrorism course, especially the ordeal and precepts of Brigadier Wade. Nicky seemed fascinated with the Wade story—probably as a relief from the confinement and monotony. It was a cruel restriction for an active, highly intelligent eleven-year-old, and several times a day Nicky would ask, "What do you think Dad's doing right now, Mom, to get us out of here?”

Jessica always tried answering imaginatively, at one point saying, "Your father knows so many people that there isn't anyone he can't call on for help. I'm sure he must have spoken with the President, who can get lots of people working, looking for us.”

Even if true, it was a piece of vanity which in normal times Jessica would not have uttered. But if it bolstered Nicky's hopes, that was all that mattered.

Jessica urged the other two to follow as much of Brigadier Wade's example as they could. In the matter of using the makeshift toilet facilities, they respected each other's privacy by turning away when asked and not commenting about the inevitable odors. On the second day they all began exercising, Jessica again taking the lead.