And how incredible, Jessica thought, that only last evening -if it was last evening; she was losing track of time-Crawf had spoken of the possibility of being kidnapped himself . . .
Her thoughts were distracted by the sight of Nicky. Since the truck began moving, Nicky had had trouble keeping his body upright and now, because of his tied hands, had slid down horizontally so that with every bump his head was hitting the floor.
Jessica, frantic and unable to help, was about to break silence and appeal to Cutface when she saw one of the gun-toting men take notice of Nicky's plight and move toward him. Partially lifting Nicky, the man moved the boy so his back was against a sack and his feet touching a box, ensuring that he wouldn't slip again. Jessica tried to thank the man with her eyes and a half smile. In return he gave the slightest of nods. It was small reassurance, she thought, but at least there was someone among these brutal people who had feelings.
The man continued to sit near Nicky. He mumbled some words which Nicky, having recently begun Spanish lessons at school, seemed to understand. As the journey continued, there were two more exchanges between the man and the boy.
After about twenty minutes, at a point where the track they had been driving on disappeared and there were only trees, the truck stopped. Jessica, Nicky and Angus were again partially shoved and lifted off the truck. When they were standing, Miguel came around from the front and announced curtly, "From here we walk.”
Gustavo and two other armed men led the way through thick foliage over an uneven, barely discernible trail. Leaves and branches pressed in on either side and though the trees overhead provided shade, the incredible heat persisted amid a constant buzz of insects.
At moments, the three captives were close together. At one point Nicky said in a low voice, "This leads to a river, Mom. Then we're going in a boat.”
Jessica whispered back, "Did that man tell you?”
"Yes.”
Soon after, Jessica heard Angus murmur, "I'm proud of you, Nicky. You're being brave.”
It was the first time Jessica had heard Angus's voice since leaving the hut. She was relieved the old man was at least coping, though she dreaded the effect of this awful experience on him and, for that matter, on Nicky too. Jessica still kept wondering about rescue. What were their chances? When and how would help arrive?
Nicky awaited an opportunity, then answered Angus softly, "It's the way you told me, Gramps. When you're really scared, hang on.”
With sudden emotion Jessica remembered the conversation at breakfast-the four of them, including Crawf, talking about that bombing raid on Germany . . . Schweinfurt? . . . What Nicky had said just now was almost exactly Angus's words then. And how long ago was that breakfast? . . . Today; yesterday; the day before? . . . Again she realized she had lost all reckoning of time.
A little later, Nicky asked, "Gramps, how about you?”
"There's life in this old dog.” Another pause, then, "Jessie -how is it with you?”
At the next opportunity she said, "I've been trying to guess where we are. Georgia? Arkansas? Where?”
It was Nicky who supplied the answer.”They took us out of America, Mom. The man told me. We're in Peru.”
5
"Earlier this morning,” Teddy Cooper told the rows of attentive young faces in front of him, "I was planning to stand here and spin you a cock-n-bull story about why you've been hired and what you'll be doing. Like a real smart-ass, I had what I thought was a convincing cover story all worked out. But a few minutes ago, after talking to some of you, I realized you're all too smart to be taken in. Also, I believe that when you know the real facts, you'll leave here keen, tight-lipped and caring. So sit up straight, lads and lassies. You're about to be trusted with the truth.”
The approach was rewarded by some smiles and continued attention.
It was 9:30 A.M. Monday. Within the past half hour exactly sixty young men and women, the sexes almost equally divided, had reported for temporary work at CBA News, Uncle Arthur having persisted with his telephoning through Sunday evening to make up the full complement required. All were now assembled in the CBA auxiliary building a block away from news headquarters, which the preceding Thursday had been used for the press conference conducted by Crawford Sloane. On the same sound stage, folding chairs had again been set up, facing a lectern.
Most of the recruits were about twenty-two years old and recent university graduates with good scholastic records. They were also articulate, competitive and anxious to break into the TV news milieu.
About a third of the group was black and among these was one Uncle Arthur had drawn to Cooper's attention—Jonathan Mony.”You may want to use Jonathan as a supervisor,” the older man advised.”He's a Columbia Journalism graduate who's been working as a waiter because he needs the money. But if you're as impressed as I am, when this is over maybe the two of us can somehow bring him into CBA.”
Mony, who had been one of the earliest to report this morning, had the build and agility of a professional basketball player. His features were finely cut, with compelling, confident eyes. Mony's voice was a clear baritone and he spoke without jargon in concise sentences. His first question to Cooper after introducing himself was, "May I help you set this up?”
Cooper, who liked Mony instantly, responded, "Sure,” and handed over the batch of forms which the network required all of today's newcomers to complete. Within minutes, Mony was showing fresh arrivals to seats and explaining the forms he had glanced over only moments before.
Soon after, Cooper asked Mony to make two phone calls and pass along messages. Without asking any questions, Mony simply nodded and disappeared. A few minutes later he was back, reporting, "Okay, Mr. Cooper. Both answers were yes.”
That was ten minutes ago. Now Teddy Cooper was continuing his introductory remarks, having paused for effect after telling his audience they would be "trusted with the truth.”
"So what this is really all about is the kidnapping—which of course you've heard of—of Mrs. Crawford Sloane, Master Nicholas Sloane and Mr. Angus Sloane. The work you'll be doing is aimed at helping those kidnap victims and is triple-X important. When you leave here you'll be detailed off to local newspaper offices and certain libraries where you will read every issue published over the past three months. Not just reading, though, but Sherlock Holmesing for clues on which I'll brief you, clues which could lead us to the body snatchers.”
Interest on the faces before him was now even greater than before, accompanied by a hum of conversation which quickly quieted as Cooper continued.”As soon as I'm through sounding off up here, you'll be divided into groups and given the gen about where to go and what to do. Some of the newspaper offices have already been phoned by us this morning; they're cooperative and expecting you. At others you'll have to introduce yourselves, saying you represent CBA. Before leaving here everyone gets a CBA identification card. Save it—a souvenir for your grandchildren.
”About transport, we have some motors waiting which will take several groups each day, dropping off one person at a time at their starting point. After that, you'll make your own way. You all have initiative; you'll get the chance to use it. Some of you will get where you're going by bus and train. Either way, travel expenses are on CBA.
”You needn't come back here at the end of each day, but you must report by telephone—we'll give you numbers—and also call immediately if you find anything important.”
The arrangements Teddy Cooper was describing had been worked on through Sunday and early this morning by himself, his two assistant researchers and a secretary borrowed from the news staff. Some backup work, including phoning local papers, was continuing.
”Now,” Cooper declared, "that was for starters. Next let's get to the big picture. Somewhere about now you should be getting several sheets of paper . . . Yes, here they are.”
The ebullient Jonathan Mony had been consulting with Cooper's assistants, busy at a desk across the room. Mony now returned, burdened by a pile o
f papers—copies of the task plan and guidelines developed yesterday by Cooper and printed overnight. Mony began handing copies to his fellow temporaries.
"When you get to those local newspaper offices,” Cooper said, "You'll ask first to see issues published three months back from last Thursday—that is, starting June 14. When you have them in front of you, go to classified ads for estate agents and look for any ad offering to rent a small factory, or a warehouse, or a large old house—but not just any old place like that . . .and to get specific, let's turn to page one of those notes you just received.”
As he explained his reasoning and planning, Teddy Cooper was relieved about his decision to disclose the truth. How much or how little he should tell these helpers had been left to his discretion, and now not using a bogus story made everything simpler. There were risks involved, of course. One was the chance that what CBA News was attempting would become known to a competitor, another network perhaps, who would either publicize the fact or run a parallel project of its own. Cooper intended to caution these young people not to reveal any details of CBA's behind-scenes purpose. He hoped his trust would be justified. Surveying his audience, still attentive and with a majority scribbling notes, he believed it would.
Cooper was also keeping his eye on an outer doorway. The phone calls he had asked Jonathan Mony to make were messages to Harry Partridge and Crawford Sloane requesting they make a brief appearance here. He had been pleased when the response from both was positive.
They arrived together. Cooper, in the midst of describing his imagined picture of the kidnappers' operating base, stopped and pointed to the door. All heads turned and despite the group's sophistication, there was an audible gasp as Sloane came forward, followed by Partridge.
With suitable deference, Cooper stepped down from the lectern. He would not presume to introduce the National Evening News anchorman, but simply made way.
”Hello, Teddy,” Sloane said.”What would you like me to do?”
"Mostly, sir, I think everyone would like to meet you.”
Sloane kept his voice low.”Tell me, how much have you let these people know?”
Partridge had joined them near the lectern and was listening.
"Pretty much the lot. I decided they'll be more keen that way and we should trust them.”
"I go along with that,” Partridge said.
Sloane nodded.”Okay by me.” He moved toward the rows of chairs, ignoring the lectern. His face was serious; no one would expect him to be smiling and happy today, and when he spoke his voice matched the sober mood.
”Ladies and gentlemen, it may be that in days to come, what anyone or some of you are about to do will contribute directly to the safe return of my wife, my son and my father. If by great good fortune that should happen, you may be sure I will seek you out to thank you personally. For the time being I would like to express my appreciation of your being here, and wish you well. Good luck to us all!”
Sloane remained in place as many of the young people rose to their feet and some came forward, reaching out to shake his hand and offer genuine good wishes; among them Teddy Cooper saw a few eyes glistening with tears. At the end, Sloane signaled goodbye and left as unobtrusively as he had come. Partridge, who also shook hands and spoke with some of the temporary workers, went with him.
Cooper continued his briefing, describing what these investigative neophytes should look for. When he invited questions several hands shot up.
A youth in an NYU sweat shirt was first.”Okay, so one of us has found an ad that fits the specs you've given, and it might be the place you're looking for. So we phone it in. What next?”
"For starters,” Cooper replied, "we find out who placed the ad. Usually a name will be there and you'll tell us. If there's no name, just a box number, try to get the info from the paper where you are, and if they're sticky about that, let us handle it.”
"And after that?”
"If we can, we'll contact the advertiser by phone and ask some questions. If we can't, we'll go to visit them. Then, if the lead still looks promising, we'll take a look—very cautiously — at the place that was advertised.”
"You've been saying 'we.” ' The new questioner was an attractive young woman in a fashionable beige suit.”Does that mean just you and other big shots, or will some of us here get to share the interesting part, where the action is?”
There were some cheers, and laughter in which Teddy Cooper joined.
”Let's get something straight,” he responded, "I'm a little shot, and be careful how you spell it.” (More laughter.) "But this I promise you: As far as we can, we'll bring you in on any developments, especially those you have a hand in launching. One reason is, we'll need you. We don't have many bodies for this job and if there's a target, chances are you'll be headed for it.”
"When you get to that stage,” a petite redhead asked, "will there be camera crews?”
"You mean might you be on camera?”
She smiled.”Something like that.”
"That won't be my decision, but I'd say it's likely.”
When the questions ended, Cooper concluded with some thoughts he had discussed with no one else, but had considered carefully the night before.
”As well as looking for the kind of advertised buildings I've described, I want you to use the chance, with those three months of newspapers in front of you, to look at every page and be alert for anything unusual.
”Don't ask me what that might be because I have no clue myself
But remember this: Those kidnappers we're trying to track down have been lurking in this area we reckon for at least a month, probably two. In that time, no matter how careful they've tried to be, possibly they've done some small thing which left a trace behind. The other possibility is that that small thing may somehow have found its way into print.”
"Sounds pretty chancy,” someone said.
Teddy Cooper nodded agreement.”You could say it's a chance in ten thousand that something happened which got reported, and another long-shot chance that one of you will find it if it did. So okay, the odds are against us. But don't forget that someone always wins the lottery when the odds are a million to one.
”All I can tell you is think, think, think! Look hard, and look intelligently. Use your imagination. You were hired because we think you're smart, so prove us right. Yep, search for our first target—the ads for premises—but watch out for that other long shot as you go.”
At the end of his remarks, to Cooper's considerable surprise, the young people facing him rose to their feet and applauded.
* * *
Earlier that morning, as soon as businesses were open, Harry Partridge had telephoned his contact, the lawyer with organized crime clients. The response was less than cordial.”Oh, it's you. Well, I told you Friday I'd do some discreet checking and I've already done that twice with no result. What I don't need is you climbing on my back.”
"I'm sorry if I Partridge began, but the other wasn't listening.
”What you newshounds never realize is that in something like this, it's my goddamn head that's on the block. The people I deal with, my clients, trust me and I intend to keep it that way. I also know that one thing they don't give a shit about is other people's problems, including yours and Crawford Sloane's, however bad you think they are.”
"I understand that,” Partridge protested.”But this is a kidnapping and . . .”
"Shut up and listen! I told you when we talked, I was sure none of the people I represent did the kidnapping or were even involved. I'm still sure. I also conceded that I owe you and would try to find out what I could. But I have to walk like I'm in a minefield and, second, convince anyone I talk to that it's to their advantage to help if they know anything or have heard rumors.”
"Look, I said I'm sorry if... "
The lawyer pressed on.”So it isn't something to be done with a bulldozer or an express train. Understand?”
Inwardly sighing, Partridge said, "I understand.”
<
br /> The lawyer's voice moderated.”Give me a few more days. And don't call me; I'll call you.”
Hanging up, Partridge reflected that while contacts could be useful, you didn't necessarily have to like them.
* * *
Before his arrival at CBA News that morning Partridge had reached a decision on whether or not to reveal on the National Evening News that a known Colombian terrorist, Ulises Rodriguez, had been linked conclusively to the Sloane family kidnap.
His decision was to withhold the information for the time being.
Following the session with Cooper's recruits, Partridge sought out special task force members to inform them. In the group conference room he found Karl Owens and Iris Everly and explained his reasoning.
”Look at it this way: Right now Rodriguez represents the only lead we have and he doesn't know we have it. But if we broadcast what we know, chances are strong that Rodriguez himself will hear of it and we'll have tipped our hand.”
Owens asked doubtfully, "Does that matter?”
"I think it does. Everything points to Rodriguez having been under cover, and the effect would be to drive him further under. I don't have to tell you how much that would lessen our chances of discovering where he is—and, of course, the Sloanes.”
"I can see all that,” Iris acknowledged, "but do you really think, Harry, that a red-hot piece of news like this, already known to at least a dozen people, is going to stay conveniently under wraps until we're ready? Don't forget every network, every newspaper, every wire service has their best people working on this story. I give it twenty-four hours at most before everybody knows.”
Rita Abrams and Norman Jaeger had joined them and were listening.
”You may be proved right,” Partridge told Iris, "but I think it's a risk we have to take.” He added, "I hate to sound corny but I think we should remember once in a while that this news thing we do is not some holy grail. When reporting endangers life and liberty, news has to take second place.”
Evening News Page 35
