The Evening News (77 page)

“
What is so different about that, Harry
?
”

Gemma once asked after
listening
.”
Some speeches you report seriously on TV are no better. You
should do a piece about Speakers' Corner
for your news
.”
Soon after, Partridge passed the suggestion to New York and the Horseshoe
shot back approval. A report was done and became a much-praised, humorous
"end piece
”
on a Friday night
.
Another highlight was visiting Brown's Hotel, founded by Lord Byron's
butler, and having afternoon tea-the ultimate English experience with
impeccable service, dainty sandwiches, scones, strawberry jam and clotted
Devonshire cream
.”
It is a sacred ritual, mio amore
,”
Gemma declared
"Like communion, but tastier
.”
In short, whatever they did together became a time of joy. And, all the
while, Gemma's pregnancy progressed, promising supplemental happiness
ahead
It was during her seventh month of
pregnancy that Partridge was sent on
a one-day assignment to Paris. CBA News's Paris bureau, short-staffed
,
needed someone to cover accusations about an American film which
portrayed critically---and inaccurately, it was claimed--the French
Resistance in World War 11, Partridge did the piece, which was sent by
satellite to New York via London, though he doubted if it was important
enough to make the National Evening News, and in the end it didn't
.
Then, in the Paris bureau and about to leave to catch his homebound
flight, he was handed a phone and told, "London wants you. Zeke is on the
line
.”
Zeke was Ezekiel Thomson, the London bureau chief-huge, tough, dour and
black also, to those who worked with him, he seemed emotionless. The
first thing Partridge became aware of as he listened on the phone was
that Zeke's voice was choked and breaking
.”
Harry, I've never had to do anything like this . . . I don't
know how ... but I have to tell you
he managed to get out
.
Somehow Zeke conveyed the rest
.
Gemma was dead She had begun to cross the street at a busy intersection
in Knightsbridge and witnesses said she had been looking to the left
instead of to the right . . . Oh, Gemma! Dearest, wonderful
,
scatterbrained Gemma, who believed that everyone in Britain was driving
on the wrong side, who had not yet mastered which way to look when a
pedestrian amid traffic
A truck, coming from the right, had struck and run over her. Those who
saw it happen said the truck driver should not be blamed, he didn't have
a chance . .
.
Their baby---a boy, Partridge discovered later-had also died.

Partridge returned to London and when what had to be done was done, alone
in the flat they had shared, he wept. He stayed alone for days, refusing
to see anyone while his tears poured out -not only for Gemma, but all the
tears which across the years he had never
shed
.
He wept at last
for the dead Welsh children at Aberfan whose pathetic
bodies he had watched brought
from that ghastly sea of mud He criedf
or the
starving in Africa where some had died as cameras turned and Partridge
,
dry-eyed, made entries in his notebook He cried for all others in those
many tragic places he had visited, where he had stood among the bereaved
,
hearing their wailing, chronicling their grief yet was a newsman doing
his
job and nothing more
.
Somewhere amid it all he remembered the words of the woman psychiatrist
who once told him, "You're banking it all, tucking the emotion away
inside you somewhere. One day everything will overflow, crack open, and
you'll cry. Oh, how you'll cry
”
,
Afterward, as best he could, he had
put his life together. CBA News had
helped by keeping him busy, not giving him time for introspection, and
as fast as one tough assignment ended, another took its place. Soon
,
wherever there was conflict or danger in the world, Harry Partridge was
on the scene. He took risks
and got away with them until it seemed, to himself and others, that his life was charmed. And while it happened, the months, then years slipped by
.
Nowadays there were stretches of time when he was able, if not to
forget
Gemma, at least not to think of her
for longish periods. Then there were
other times-like the two weeks since the Sloane kidnap-when she was
foremost in his mind
e
ither way, since those desperate days after Gemma's death, he had not
cried again.

Now, aboard the Lea
r
jet and still an hour out of Bogota, sleep was
returning after all and in Harry Partridge's mind the past and present
were merging . . . Gemma and Jessica were becoming one . .
.
Gemm
a-Jessica . . . Jessica-Gemma . . . No matter what the odds against
him '. he would find her and bring her back Somehow he would save her
.
Sleep came
.
When he awoke again the Lear was on final approach to Bogota.

The contrasts of Lima, Harry Partridge thought, were as stark and grimly apparent as the crises and conflicts, political and economic, that bitterly, often savagely, divided all Peru
.
The immense, dry, sprawling capital city was split into several
segments,, each displaying opulent wealth or squalid poverty, with
hatreds like poisoned arrows speeding between the two extremes. Unlike
most other cities he knew, there was seldom any middle ground. Grandiose
homes surrounded by manicured gardens, all built on Lima's best land
,
adjoined hideous barriadas-slums jam-packed together--on the worst
.
The multitude of "have-not
”
slum dwellers, many crowded into filthy
cardboard shacks, was so visibly wretched, the anger
looking out from sullen eyes so fierce, that during past visits to Peru, Partridge had had a sense of revolution in ferment. Now, from what he had already learned during his first day here, some form of insurrection seemed ready to explode
.
Partridge, Minh Van Canh and Ken O'Hara had landed at Lima's Jorge Chivez
Airport at 1:40 P.m. On dise
mbarking they were met by Ferna
ndez Pabur
,
CBA's regular stringer in Peru and-when required, as now-the network's
fixer
.
He had whisked them through Immigration and Customs ahead of others
waiting-it seemed likely that at some point money had changed hands-and
then escorted them to a Ford station wagon, with waiting driver
.
Fern
a
ndez was heavyset, dark, swarthy and energetic, probably about
thirty-five, with a protruding mouth and prominent white teeth which he
flashed every few seconds in what he clearly hoped was a dazzling smile
.
In fact, being patently false, it wasn't-but Partridge didn't care. What
he liked about
Fernandez
, whom he had used on other occasions, was that
the fixer knew instinctively what was needed and got results
.
The first result was a suite for Partridge in the elegant five
star
Cesar's Hotel in Miraflores, and good rooms for the other two
.
At the hotel, while Partridge wash
ed and put on a clean shirt, Fernand
ez
phoned ahead at Partridge's request to set up the first appointment. It
was with an old acquaintance, Sergio Hurtado, news editor and broadcaster
for Radio Andes network
.
An hour later, the radio man and Partridge were together in a small
broadcast studio which doubled as an office
.”
Harry my friend, I have only depressing tidings to convey
,”
Sergio was
saying, responding to a question
.”
in our country the rule of law has
disappeared. Democracy is not even a faqade; it is nonexistent. We are
bankrupt in every sense. Massacres are commonplace, politically inspired
.
There are private death squads of the President's party; people simply
disappear. I tell you we are nearer to a total bloodbath than ever before
in the history of Peru. I wish none of this were true. Alas, it is
!”

Although coining from a grotesquely obese body, the deep mellifluous
voice was compelling and persuasive as ever, Partridge noted. Small
wonder that Sergio commanded the country's largest audience, since radio
was still the paramount news medium, more important and influential than
television. TV viewers were a well-to-do concentration in larger cities
only
.
Sergio's chair creaked complainingly as he shifted his mountain of flesh
.
His jowls were like outsize sausages. His eyes, which across the years
had receded as his face grew larger, were now porcine. Nothing was wrong
with his brain, however, nor his distinguished American education which
had included Harvard. Sergio appreciated U.S. reporters visiting him, as
many did, seeking his well-informed opinions
.
After an agreement that their conversation would be off the record until
the following evening, Partridge described the chronology of the Sloane
kidnap, then asked, "Do you have any advice for me, Sergio? Is there
anything you have heard which might be helpful
?
”

The broadcaster shook his head
.”
I have heard nothing, which is not
surprising. Sendero is good at secrecy, mainly because they kill any of
their people who talk indiscreetly; staying alive is an incentive not to
gossip. But I will help you, if I can, by putting out feelers. I have
information sources in many places
.”

"Thank you
.”

"As to your news tomorrow night, I will obtain a satellite tape and adapt
it for myself. Meanwhile we are not short of disaster subjects of our
own. This country, politically, financially, every other way, is going
down the tubes
.”

"We hear mixed reports about Sendero Lurninoso. Are they really getting
stronger
?
”

"The answer is yes-and not only stronger every day, but controlling more
and more of the country, which is why the task you have set yourself is
difficult, some might say impossible. Assuming your kidnapped people are
here, there are a thousand out-of-the-way places where they may be
hidden, But I am glad you came to me first because I will give you some
advice
.”

"Which is
?
”

"Do not seek official help,-that is, from the Peru armed forces or the
police. In fact, avoid them as allies because they have ceased to be
trustworthy, if they ever were. When it comes to murder and mayhem, they
are no better than Sendero and certainly as ruthless
.”

"Are there recent examples
?
”

"Plenty. I'll point you toward some if you wish
.”

Partridge had already begun thinking about reports he would send back for
the National Evening News. He had previously arranged that after the
arrival Saturday of Rita Abrams and the editor, Bob Watson, they would
put together a piece for Monday's broadcast. In it, Partridge hoped to
have sound bites from Sergio Hurtado and others
.
Now he asked, "You said democracy is nonexistent. Was that rhetoric or
really true
?
”

"Not only true, but to huge numbers of people here the presence or
absence of democracy makes no difference in their lives
.”