Authors: Arthur Hailey
The chairman
rose
.”
Now that's understood, let's have lunch
.”
It took several minutes for Jessica to accept the possibility that what Nicky had told her-that they were actually in Perumight conceivably be true
.
It couldn't have happened! Surely there had not been time!
But gradually, discarding earlier assumptions and with specific memories
returning, the likelihood grew stronger. Wasn't it possible, she
reasoned, that she, Nicky and Angus had been unconscious far longer than
she had considered possible, even when she thought they might be in a
southern U.S. state? Obviously, yes
.
Yet if this was Peru, how had they been brought here? It could not have
been easy to smuggle three unconscious people . .
.
A sudden flash of mem
or
y! An image sharp and clear, yet totally forgotten
until now
.
During that brief interval when she struggled and managed to wound
Cutface . . . in those desperate moments she had seen two empty
funeral
caskets, one smaller than the other. That terrifying sight had convinced
her she and Nicky were about to be killed.
But now, with a shudder, Jessica realized they must have been brought here
in those caskets-like dead people! The thought was so horrific that she
wouldn't, couldn't think of it. Instead, she forced her mind back to the
present, grim and painful as it was
.
Jessica, Nicky and Angus, with their hands tied behind them, were still
walking, stumbling over the narrow trail hemmed in by densely growing trees
and undergrowth. Some armed men were ahead, others behind. At any sign of
s
lowing, those behind shouted, "Andale! Apfirense
“
prodding with their
rifles to urge the captives on
.
And it was hot. Incredibly hot. Sweat poured from them all
.
Jessica worried desperately about the other two. She herself was suffering
an intense headache, nausea, and a myriad of buzzing insects she was unable
to brush away. How long could this go on? Nicky had said they were going
to a river. Surely they must get there soon!
Yes, Jessica decided, Nicky's informant must have been right. This was Peru
and, realizing how far from home they had come and how remote were the
chances of their being rescued here, she felt like weeping
.
The
ground beneath her feet had bec
ome soggy, making it increasingly
difficult to walk. Suddenly, behind her, Jessica heard a sharp cry, a
commotion and a thud. Turning, she saw that Angus had fallen. His face was
in mud
.
Gamely, the old man struggled to get up, but failed because of his tied
hands. Behind him the men with guns laughed. One of them lunged forward
with his rifle, ready to thrust the barrel in Angus's back
.
Jessica screamed at the man, "No, no, no
!”
The words briefly startled him and before he could recover, Jessica ran to
Angus and dropped to her knees beside him. She managed to keep her body
upright, even with her hands tied, though was helpless to assist Angus to
his feet. The man with the gun moved angrily toward her, but stopped at the
sound of Miguel's sharp voice. From the front of the column, Miguel now
appeared, with Socorro and Baudelio behind him
.
Before anyone else could speak, Jessica raised her voice,
strong with emotion
.”
Yes, we are your prisoners. We don't know why, but we know we can't escape, and so do you. Why, then, tie our hands? All we want is to help ourselves, to keep from falling. Look what happens when we can
’t
Please, please, show some mercy! I beg you, free our hands
!”
For the first time, Miguel hesitated, especially as Socorro told him
softly, "If one of them breaks a leg or arm, or even has a cut, it could
be infected. In Nueva Esperanza we'll have no means of dealing with
infection
.”
Beside her, Baudelio said, "She's right
.”
Miguel, with an impatient gesture, snapped an order in Spanish. One of
the men with guns stepped forward-the same man who had helped Nicky in
the truck. From a sheath fastened to his belt he produced a knife and
reached behind Jessica. She felt the rope binding her wrists loosen, then
fall away. Nicky was next. Angus was propped up while his bonds were
severed too, then Jessica and Nicky helped him stand
.
Amid shouted commands, they again moved forward
.
In the past few minutes, despite her emotion, Jessica had learned several
things. First, their destination was Nueva Esperanza, though the name
meant nothing to her. Second, the man who had befriended Nicky was
Vicente-she'd heard his name used when he cut the bonds. Third, the woman
who interceded with Miguel, the same one who struck Jessica in the hut
,
possessed some medical knowledge. So did Cutface. Possibly one or the
other was a doctor, perhaps both
,
She squirreled the nuggets of information away, instinct telling her that
whatever she could learn might prove useful later
.
Moments later, as the column rounded a bend in the trail, a wide river
appeared ahead.
Miguel remembered reading in his early nihilist days that a successful
terrorist must divest himself of conventional human emotions and achieve
his ends by instilling terror in those who opposed his wishes and his
will. Even the emotion of hatred, while useful in providing terrorists
with psychic passion, could be a liability in excess, obscuring judgment.
In his terrorist career, Miguel had followed those dicta faithfully, adding
one more: Action and danger were a terrorist's stimulants. For himself, he
needed them the way an addict needed drugs
.
Which was the reason for his disenchantment with what lay immediately
ahead
.
For four months, commencing with his flight to London and his acquisition
of the illegal passport he used to enter the United States, he had been
driven by the zest of ever-present danger, the life-and-death necessity for
careful planning, more recently the heady flavor of success and, overall
,
a constant vigilance to assure survival
.
But now, in these jungle backwaters of Peru, the dangers were less great
.
While there was always a possibility of government forces appearing
suddenly, spraying automatic weapons fire and asking questions after, most
other pressures were reduced or absent. Yet Miguel had contracted to remain
here-or at least in Nueva Esperanza, the small village they would reach
today-for an unspecified length of time because when this deal was made
with the Medellin cartel, Sendero Luminoso had wanted it that way. For what
reason? Miguel didn't know
.
Nor did he know precisely why the prisoners had been taken and what would
happen now they had been brought here. He did know they were to be strictly
guarded, which was probably the reason for his staying on since he had a
reputation for reliability. As to anything more, that was presumably in the
hands of Abimael Guzma
n, the raving lunatic-as Miguel thought of him
nowadays-who had founded Sendero Luminoso and considered himself the
immaculate Maoist-Jesus. Of
course, that was assuming Guzma
n was still
alive. Rumors that he was or wasn't came with the persistence-and
unreliability --of jungle rain
.
Miguel bated the jungle-or Selva, as Peruvians called it. Hated the
all-pervading dampness, decay and mold . . . the sense of confinement, as
if the swiftly growing, impenetrable undergrowth was forever closing in
.
. . the never-ceasing dissonance of insects until you longed for a few
minutes of silence and relief . . . the loathsome legion of soundless
,
slithering
snakes. And the jungle was huge: almost twice the size of California and representing three fifths of Peru, though only five percent of the country's inhabitants lived there
.
Peruvians were fond of declaring there were three Perus: the bustling
coastal region with a thousand miles of cities, commerce, beaches; the
South Andean mountains, their magnificent peaks rivaling the Himalayas
and the area perpetuating Inca history and tradition; and finally this
jungle, the Amazonian Selva Indian, wild and tribal. Well, Miguel could
take and even enjoy the first and second. Nothing, though, would change
his aversion to the third. The jungle was asquerosa
.
His thoughts returned to Sendero Luminoso-the "Shining Path
”
to
revolution, the name taken from the writings of Peru's late Marxist
philosopher,
Jose
Carlos Maridtegui. In 1980, Abimael Guzmin followed
that lead, soon afterward anointing himself "the fourth sword of world
revolution
,”
his predecessors, as he saw it, being Marx, Lenin and Mao
Tse-tung. All other revolutionaries were spurned by Guzm4n as pallid
charlatans, the rejects including Lenin's Soviet successors and Cuba's
Castro
.
The guerrillas of Sendero Luminoso believed they would overthrow the
existing government and rule all of Peru. But not quickly. The movement
claimed to count time in decades, not in years. Yet Sendero was large and
strong already, its corps of leaders and its power growing, and Miguel
expected to see the overthrow happen in his lifetime. Not, however, from
this odiosa jungle
.
For the moment, though, Miguel was awaiting instructions about the
prisoners, instructions which would probably originate in Ayacucho, a
historic town in the Andes foothills where Sendero exercised almost total
control. Not that Miguel cared who gave the orders as long as some
,
involving action, reached him soon
.
But now, the Huallaga River was directly ahead-a sudden opening in the
constricting jungle scene. He paused to survey it
.
Wide and a muddy orange-brown from Andean lateritic silt, the Huallaga
flowed steadily toward its confluence with the Marafi6n River three
hundred miles away and, soon after, its
merging with the mighty Amazon. Centuries ago, Portuguese explorers n
amed this whole Amazon complex O
Rio Mar, The Fiver Sea
.
As they drew nearer, Miguel could see two wooden workboats, each about
thirty-five feet long and with twin outboard motors, moored close to the
riverbank. Gustavo, leader of the small force that had met them at the
airstrip, was giving orders about loading stores the arriving group had
brought. He also indicated how those traveling in the boats would be
divided; the prisoners were to be in the first. Miguel noted approvingly
that Gustavo's instructions included posting two armed guards while loading
was taking place, a precaution against a sudden appearance by government
forces
.
Satisfied with what was being done, Miguel saw no reason to interfere. He
would resume full command at Nueva Esperanza.
For Jessica, the river magnified the sense of isolation she felt. It seemed
to her a desolate opening to an unknown world, unconnected to the one
behind them. Prodded by guns, she, Nicky and Angus waded knee-deep through
water to board one of the boats and, after climbing in, were ordered to sit
on the damp boat bottom, a flat surface formed by boards running fore and
aft above the keel. It was possible to lean back, if they chose, against
the edge of a single board athwart the top of the boat, but this merely
provided a choice between two discomforting positions, neither one
endurable for long
.
Jessica noticed then that Nicky had gone pale and was suddenly racked by
vomiting. Though nothing came from his mouth except a little mucus, his
chest heaved. Jessica moved closer and held him, at the same time looking
desperately for help
.
She immediately saw Cutface who had waded out from shore and was beside the
boat. Before Jessica could speak, the woman she had observed several times
before appeared and Cutface ordered, "Give them all more water-the boy
first
.”