Arthur Hailey - Evening News

As the first few days passed, a pattern of living—mainly miserable—took shape. Three times daily, a diet of unappetizing, greasy food—principally cassava, rice and noodles—was brought to them. The first day, Nicky choked on the grease which tasted sour and Jessica came close to vomiting; hunger eventually outweighed distaste and they forced it down. Every forty-eight hours, more or less, the stinking sanitary pails were removed and emptied by an Indian woman. If they were washed at all, it was superficially; when returned they smelled almost as bad. Drinking water was handed in to each cell in used soft-drink bottles; occasionally there were bowls and other water with which to wash. The guards warned the prisoners by hand signals that they should not drink the washing water which was a muddy brown.

Nicky's morale, which was the most important to Jessica, while not high at least remained stable; he also proved himself to be resilient once the initial shock of being there had passed. Jessica, who in New York did part-time social work among underprivileged families, had observed that in tragic situations, children often coped better than adults. Possibly, she thought, it was because children's thinking was less complicated and more honest; or perhaps children became mentally adult when the need was thrust upon them. In Nicky's case, for whatever reason, he was visibly coping.

He began attempting conversations with the guards. Nicky's Spanish was rudimentary, but depending on the patience and good nature of the other party, he managed to achieve exchanges and gain information. Vicente was the most cooperative.

From Vicente they learned of the impending departure of "the doctor"—obviously the one whom Jessica thought of as Cutface—and who, Vicente believed, was "going home to Lima.” However, "the nurse” would stay on, and this was clearly the sour-faced woman whose name they discovered was Socorro.

They speculated among themselves on why Vicente was different from the other guards and apparently kinder. It was Jessica who cautioned Nicky and Angus, "It's not so much that he's different. Vicente's still one of those who brought us here and are keeping us prisoners — Don't let's forget that. But he's not as mean or thoughtless as the others, so by comparison he seems kind.”

There were other facets of the subject that Jessica wanted to talk about, but she decided to save them for later. There would be need of fresh themes for thought and discussion during what she foresaw as lonely days ahead. Meanwhile, she added, "Because he's the way he is, let's make all the use of Vicente that we can.”

At Jessica's suggestion, Nicky asked Vicente if the prisoners were to be allowed out of the cells at all, to go outside. To this question, Vicente shook his head, though it was not clear whether the answer was negative or he didn't understand. Jessica, persisting, asked to have a message passed to Socorro that the prisoners would like to see her. Nicky did his best, but once more a headshake was the only response, making it seem doubtful the request would be delivered.

Nicky's relative success with the language surprised Jessica since his Spanish lessons at school had begun only a few months earlier. When she mentioned this, Nicky told her that two of his friends at school were Cuban immigrants who chattered in Spanish in the playground.”Some of us listened, we picked up things . . .” Nicky paused, chuckling.”You won't like this, Mom, but they know all the dirty words. They taught us those.”

Angus, who had been listening, asked, "Did you learn any dirty insults, too?”

"Sure did, Gramps.”

"Could you teach me a few? So I can use them on the people here, if I have to.”

"I'm not sure Mom would like..."

"Go ahead,” Jessica said.”I won't mind.” Nicky's laughter had been wonderful to hear.

”All right, Gramps. If you really want to bad mouth somebody, you could say . . .” Nicky crossed his cell and whispered to his grandfather through their separating screen.

They had, Jessica reflected, stumbled on one more way to pass the time.

And later that day Socorro came, responding to the message.

She stood in the outer doorway, her slim, lithe body a distinctive silhouette, surveying the three cells, her nose wrinkling at the all—pervading smell.

Without waiting, Jessica spoke.”We know you're a nurse, Socorro. It's why you cared enough to speak up and have our hands untied, and why you gave us chocolate.”

Socorro said crossly, "Not a nurse, a nursing aide.” She came closer to the cells, her lips set tightly.

”It make no difference, not here anyway,” Jessica said. "Now that the doctor's going, you'll be the one who knows about medicine.”

"You're trying to be smart; it won't help you. You wanted to see me. Why?”

"Because you've already shown you want to keep us alive and well. But unless we get out of here, into some fresh air for a while, we'll all be desperately ill.”

"You have to stay inside. They don't want you to be seen.”

"Why not! And who are 'they'?”

"That is not your concern, and you have no right to ask questions.”

Jessica slammed back, "I have a mother's right to care about my son: also about my father-in-law who is old and has been treated brutally.”

"He deserved it. He talks too much. So do you.”

Instinct told Jessica that some of Socorro's antagonism was contrived. She attempted a compliment.”Your English is excellent. You must have lived in America a long time.”

"That is none of your . . .” Socorro stopped and shrugged.”Three years. I hated it. It is a filthy, corrupt country.”

Jessica said softly, "I don't think you really believe that. I think you were treated well, and now you are having trouble hating us.”

"Think what you want,” Socorro snapped as she walked away, then in the doorway turned.”I will try to have more air let in here.” Her lips twitched in the nearest thing to a smile.”It will be healthier for the guards.”

Next day two men arrived with tools. They cut open several spaces, creating unblocked windows in the walls facing the cells. Immediately, the daytime semidarkness was replaced by light so the three captives could see each other clearly, and also the guard. As well, there was a flow of air through the building, occasionally a breeze, and while foul odors were not eliminated, they were greatly reduced.

It was a victory for Jessica and also, she thought, an indication that beneath the surface Socorro was not as hostile as she tried to appear—a vulnerability perhaps to be exploited later in some larger way.

But the light-and-air victory was minor and, as it proved, there were major agonies still to be endured. One, unknown to Jessica, was already taking shape.

Six days after the captives and their escorts arrived at Nueva Esperanza, Miguel received a series of written orders from Sendero Luminoso, orders originating in Ayacucho. They were delivered by a messenger traveling in a truck that took two days to cover the five hundred tortuous road miles, a journey extending over perilous mountain passes and soggy jungle trails. Several items of specialized equipment were also delivered.

The most important instruction involved making a videotape recording of the woman prisoner. A script was supplied and no deviation from its wording would be permitted. The project was to be personally supervised by Miguel.

Another instruction confirmed that Baudelio's duties were at an end. He would accompany the messenger in the truck back to Ayacucho, from where he would fly to Lima. The truck would return to Nueva Esperanza in a few days' time to bring more supplies and collect the completed videotape.

The news that Baudelio was going home to Lima, even though expected, displeased Miguel. For one thing, the ex-doctor knew too much. For another, he was certain to resume his alcoholic ways, hard liquor and a loose tongue inevitably went together. Therefore Baudelio at large was a threat not only to the security of their small garrison but also—more importantly, as Miguel saw it —to his own safety.