Authors: Arthur Hailey
The airplane was still
on its landing run, traveling fast on an uneven dirt surface
.
The end of the short strip was looming nearer, Zileri braking hard. As
the landing run ended, employing brakes and one engine, the pilot swung
the airplane around to face the way they had come. Then, using both
engines for acceleration, he taxied back down the airstrip, moving fast
toward its opposite end
.
The Cheyenne II stopped at the point where Jessica, Nicky and O'Hara were
waiting. The copilot, Felipe, had already left his seat and moved aft
.
From inside the fuselage he released and lowered an air-stair door
.
Nicky first, then Jessica and O'Hara climbed aboard, outstretched hands
,
including Sloane's, helping pull them in. Minh appeared and scrambled in
behind the others
.
As Sloane, Jessica and Nicky emotionally hugged each other, O'Hara called
out breathlessly, "Harry's up ahead. We have to get him. He's holding off
the terrorists
.”
"I see him
,”
Zileri said
.”
Hold on
!”
He opened the throttles again and
the airplane shot forward, taxiing fast
.
At the runway's far end he turned the airplane around once more. It was
now facing the way it landed, ready for takeoff but with the passenger
door still open. Gunfire coul
d be heard through the doorway.
"Your friend will have to make a run for it
.”
Zileri's voice was urgent
.”
I want to get the hell out of here
.”
"He will
,”
Minh said
.”
He's seen us and he'll come
.”
Partridge had both seen and heard the airplane. Glancing over his
shoulder, he knew it was as close to him as it could come. There was
about a hundred yards between him and the plane. He would make it at a
fast run, keeping low. First though, he had to spray fire back into the
jungle trail to deter any further advance by the Sendero force. In the
past few minutes he had seen several more figures appear, had fired and
seen another fall. The others were now hugging the shelter of the trees
.
A burst of fire would hold them there, out of sight, long enough for him
to reach the plane
.
He had just put a fresh magazine into the Kalashnikov. Squeezing the
trigger, then holding it, he poured a deadly hail of bullets along both
sides of the jungle path. Since the firing began he had felt his old
visceral zest for battle stir . . . that sensuous tbrill; it set
adrenaline running, juices flowing . . . an illogical, crazy addiction
to the sights and sounds of war . .
.
When the magazine had emptied, he dropped the rifle, sprang to his feet
and ran, doubling over to stay low. The airplane was ahead. He knew he'd
make it!
Partridge was a third of the way to the plane when a bullet struck his
leg. He fell instantly. It was all so fast, it took him several seconds
to grasp what had happened
.
The bullet had impacted at the back of his right knee, shattering the
joint. He could go no farther. A terrible pain, more pain than he had
ever believed possible, swept over him. He knew, at that moment, he would
never reach the airplane. He knew, too, that there was no time left. The
plane must go. And he must do what
Fernandez
had done, barely half an
hour earlier
.
Summoning a final surge of strength, he raised himself, waving the
Cheyenne forward. All that mattered now was that his intention should be
clear.
Minh was in the airplane doorway, shooting pictures. He had Partridge in
his zoom lens-a closeup---and had captured the moment when the bullet hit
.
The copilot, Felipe, was beside Minh
.
Felipe called in, "He's hit! I think badly. He's waving for us to go
.”
Inside the airplane, Sloane pushed toward the door
.”
We have to get him
!”
Jessica cried out, "Yes! Oh yes
!”
Nicky echoed, "Please don't go without Harry
!”
It was Minh, the realist about war, who said, "You can't get him. There
isn't time
.”
Minh had seen through his lens the advancing Sendero force. Several of its
members had reached the airstrip perimeter, were running forward and firing
their guns. Just then, several bullets hit the plane
.”
I'm leaving
,”
Zileri said. He had already lowered flaps for takeoff, now
he pushed the throttles forward. Minh, plus camera, tumbled in. Felipe
retracted and secured the air-stair door
.
As airspeed built, Zileri eased back on the control column. The Cheyenne
11 left the airstrip and climbed
.
Jessica and Nicky were holding each other, weeping. Sloane, his eyes
partially closed, was shaking his head slowly, as if not believing what he
had just seen
.
Minh held his camera against a window, taking final shots of the scene
below.
On the ground, Partridge saw the Cheyenne II go
.
And saw something else. Through a haze of pain, in the doorway of the
departing airplane he saw a smiling figure in Alitalia uniform. She was
waving
.
Partridge's tears, long held back, began to flow. Then more bullets hit him
and he died. Looking down at the body of Harry Partridge, Miguel vowed that never again would he let something like today's fiasco happen
.
In the first stage of the kidnap enterprise, which was complex and
demanding, he had been fabulously successful. In this second stage, which
should have been easy and uncomplicated, he had failed abysmally
.
The lesson was clear: Nothing was easy and uncomplicated. He should have
learned it long ago
.
He would remember it, however, from this moment on
.
So what came next?
First, he must leave Peru. His life would be forfeit if he stayed;
Sendero Luminoso would see to that
.
He could not even go back to Nueva Esperanza
.
Fortunately, he had no reason to. Before departure, foreseeing the
possibility of what actually occurred, he had stowed all of his
cash-including most of the fifty thousand dollars he collected from Jos~
Antonio Salaverry during his final visit to the United Nations-into a
money belt he was wearing. He could feel it now. Uncomfortable but
reassuring
.
The money was ample to get him out of Peru and into Colombia
.
What he intended now was to slip away into the jungle. There was an
airstrip twenty-five kilometers away-not either of the two that had been
targeted today-where drug-traffic planes flown by Colombian pilots came
and went frequently. He knew he could buy passage to Colombia and, once
there, would be safe
.
If anyone in the group from Nueva Esperanza attempted to stop him, he
would kill him. But Miguel doubted if anyone would. Of the seven who had
accompanied him here, only four
were still alive;
Ramon
and two others had been killed by this gringo who lay at his feet-identity unknown, though a good marksman
.
Even back in Colombia, his reputation would suffer a little from the Nueva
Esperanza debacle, but that would not last. And unlike Sendero Luminoso
,
the Colombian drug cartels were not fanatical. Ruthless, yes, but otherwise
pragmatic and business
like. Miguel had eminently sal
e
able talents as an
anarchist-terrorist. The cartels had need of him
.
Miguel had recently learned that a long-term program was under way to
convert a series of small and medium-sized countries to the same
drug-cartel-dominated status as Colombia. He was certain the project would
present an opportunity for his special skills
.
As a functioning democracy Colombia was finished. Outwardly, some showcase
trappings remained, but even those were disappearing as killings ordered by
the cartels' powerful billionaire bosses eliminated the diminishing
minority who believed in bygone ways
.
What was needed to transform other countries into replicas of Colombia was
corruption at or near the top of governments, corruption making it possible
for drug cartels to move in and operate. Next, insidiously and quietly, the
cartels would become stronger than the go
vernments-after which, as in Co
lombia, there was never any turning back
.
Four countries were mentioned nowadays as potential targets to be
"Colombia-ized
.”
They were Bolivia, El Salvador, Guatemala and Jamaica
.
Later, others could be added to the list
.
With his unique experience and ability to survive, Miguel decided, he was
likely to be busy for a long time ahead.
Aboard the Cheyenne
II
, several minutes passed before anyone felt capable of speech. Crawford Sloane was holding Jessica and Nicky close to him, the three oblivious to all else
.
At length Sloane raised his head and asked Minh Van Canh, "About Harry
. . . did you see anything more
?
”
Minh nodded sadly
.”
I was focused on him. He was hit again, several
times. There isn't any doubt
.”
Sloane sighed
.”
He was the best . .
.”
Minh corrected him, his voice unusually strong
.”
The very best. As a
correspondent. As a human being. I've seen a good many, and there wasn't
anyone I knew who came close to Harry in all those years
.”
The words were
spoken almost as a challenge. Minh had known Sloane and Partridge for an
equal time
.
If it was a challenge, Sloane did not contest it. He said simply, "I
agree
.”
Jessica and Nicky were listening, both busy with their thoughts
.
It was Rita, the professional with responsibilities, who asked Minh, "May
I see some of your pictures
?
”
She knew that despite Harry's death, she
must put a broadcast together in Lima, barely an hour away
.
She also knew they bad a world exclusive story
.
Minh did some rewinding, then passed his Betacam to Rita. Squinting
through the viewfinder, she watched videotape shots: as usual, Minh had
captured the essentials of everything. The pictures were superb. Some
final shots--of Harry wounded, then falling to the fatal bullets-were
stark and moving. As she handed the camera back, Rita's eyes were moist
but she wiped them with the back of her hand, knowing there was no time
now either to mourn Harry or to cry. Both would come later, probably when she was alone tonight
.
Sloane asked, "Did Harry have anybody-a girlfriend? I know he never
remarried after Gemma
.”
"There was-is someone
,”
Rita said
.”
Her name is Vivien. She's a nurse and
lives in a place called Port Credit; that's outside Toronto
.”
"We should call. I'll talk to her if you like
.”
"Yes, I would like
,”
Rita said
.”
And when you do, tell her Harry made a
will before leaving and I have it. He left everything to her. Vivien
doesn't know it, but she's a millionaire now. It seems Harry salted money
away in tax havens all over the world. Along with the will, he left a
list
.”