Authors: Arthur Hailey
"Exactly
.”
Jaeger added, "I guess Karl would get to this eventually, Les. But what
he's saying is we'll have gained several extra days' reprieve-if it
works, and it just might. What do you think
?
”
Chippingham said, "I think it's brilliant. It makes me glad we got the
nitty-gritty shifted back to news
.”
Throughout the weekend the news about Sendero Luminoso's demands and the
videotape of Jessica stayed prominently in the news, with growing
interest around the world. Calls flooded in to CBA requesting some
comment from the network, preferably in the form of an official
statement. By arrangement, all such calls were routed to CBA News. Other
CDA executives and managers were advised not to r
espond to questions on the subje
ct, even off the record
.
At CBA News three secretaries, summoned for special weekend work, handled
the calls. In every case their response to questions was the same: CBA
had no comment and, no, it was not possible to say when a comment would
be made
.
The absence of a CBA reaction, however, did not stop others from
expressing opinions. A majority view seemed to be, Hold the line! Don't
give inI
A surprising number, though, saw no harm in the kidnappers' demands being
met as a price of the prisoners' release, prompting Norm Jaeger to
comment in disgust, "Can't those birdbrains grasp the principles
involved? Don't they see that by creating a precedent we'd invite every
lunatic group in the world to kidnap television people
?
”
On the Sunday TV talk shows "Face the Nation ... .. Meet the Press
”
and
"This Week with David Brinkley
,”
the subject was debated and extracts
from Crawford Sloane's book The Camera and the Truth, read aloud
,
particularly:
Hostages . . . should be regarded as expendable. The only way to deal with terrorists is . . . not striking bar-
gains or paying ransom, directly or indirectly, ever
!
Within CBA, those who had promised Les Chippingham to keep secret the
ultimate decision not to accept Sendero Luminoso's terms appeared to have
kept their word. In fact, the only one to break it was Margot Lloyd-Mason
who, on Sunday, advised Theodore Elliott by telephone of everything that
had transpired the night before
.
No doubt Margot would have argued she was acting correctly in keeping the
Globanic chairman informed. Unfortunately, right or wrong, her action
paved the way for a devastating leak.
Globanic Industries World Headquarters occupied a mansion
style office complex set in its own private park at Pleasantville, New York, some thirty miles outside Manhattan. The intent in choosing that locale had been to remove high-level thinking and policy making from the daily pressure-cooker atmosphere of Globanic subsidiaries in industrial or financial areas. Globanic Financial, for example, which was managing the Peru debt-to-equity deal, occupied three floors of One World Trade Center in the Wall Street area
.
In reality, however, many ancillary matters affecting Globanic outposts
spilled into the Pleasantville headquarters. This was why, at 10 A.M. on
Monday morning, Glen Dawson, a preppy young reporter for the Baltimore
Star, was waiting to interview Globanic's chief comptroller on the
subject of palladium. Currently the precious metal was in the news and
a Globanic company owned mines producing palladium and platinum in Minas
Gerais, Brazil, where labor riots were threatening supplies
.
Dawson waited outside the comptroller's office in an elegant circular
lounge which gave access to the suites of two other high Globanic
officers, one of them the conglomerate's chairman and CEO
.
The reporter, seated in an inconspicuous comer, was still waiting when
one of the other office doors opened and two figures emerged. One was
Theodore Elliott whom Dawson recognized instantly from photographs he had
seen. The face of the other man was familiar, though Dawson couldn't
place it. The two were continuing a conversation begun inside, the second
man speaking
.”
. . . been hearing about your CBA. Those threats from the Peru rebels
put you in a difficult spot
.”
The Globanic chairman nodded
.”
In one way, yes . . . carry on, I'll walk
you to the elevator . . . We've made a decision, though it hasn't been
announced. What we're not going to do is let a bunch of crazy Commies
push us around
.”
"So CBA won't cancel their evening news
?
”
"Absolutely not! As for running those Shining Path tapes, not a hope in
hell . .
.”
The voices faded
.
Using a magazine he had been glancing through as cover for a notepad
,
Glen Dawson quickly scribbled the exact words he had heard. His pulse was
racing. He knew he had exclusive information which countless other
journalists had been seeking unsuccessfully since Saturday night
.”
Mr. Dawson
,”
a receptionist called over, "Mr. Licata will see you now
.”
On his way past her desk, he stopped and smiled
.”
That other gentleman
with Mr. Elliott-I'm sure I've met him, but couldn't place his face
.”
The receptionist hesitated; he sensed her disapproval and renewed the
smile. It worked
.”
It was Mr. Alden Rhodes, the Under Secretary of State
.”
"Of course! How could I forget
?
”
Dawson had seen the Under Secretary of State for Economic Affairs once
before-on television, appearing before a House committee. But all that
mattered at this moment was that he had the name
.
The interview with Globanic's comptroller seemed endless to Dawson
,
though he tried to conclude it as quickly as he could. The subject of
palladium had not interested him much, anyway; he was an ambitious young
man who wanted to write on subjects of wide interest, and what he had
stumbled on seemed a timely ticket to a more exciting future. The
comptroller, however, was unhurried in describing the history and future
of palladium. He dismissed the labor unrest in Brazil as temporary and
unlikely to affect supplies, which was what Dawson had principally come
to find out. At length, pleading a deadline, the reporter made his
escape
.
Checking his watch, he decided he had time to drive to the
B
altimore Star's Manhattan bureau, write both stories there, and still make the paper's main afternoon edition. Driving fast, mentally stringing words and sentences together as the miles flew by, he headed south on Saw Mill River Parkway, then Interstate 87.
Seated at a computer terminal in the bureau's modest office at
Rockefeller Plaza, Glen Dawson quickly wrote the palladium story first
.
It was what he had been sent to do and an original obligation was now
decently fulfilled
.
He then began the more exciting second story. His first report had gone
to the financial desk and, since he was assigned there, so would the
second. He was certain, though, it would not remain at financial for very
long
.
His fingers danced over the keyboard, composing a lead
.
As he did, Dawson wondered about an ethical question which he knew would
have to be asked and answered soon: Would publication of the information
he was now writing place the kidnap victims in Peru in greater peril than
they were already?
More specifically: Would the Sloane family hostages be harmed by
revelation of the CBA network decision to reject the demands of Sendero
Luminoso, a decision which obviously, at this point, was not intended to
be disclosed?
Or, on the other hand, was the public entitled to know whatever an
enterprising reporter like himself was able to find out, no matter how
the information was obtained?
Though such questions existed, the plain fact was, Dawson knew, they were
none of his business or concern. The rules in the matter were precise and
known to all parties involved
.
A reporter's responsibility was to write any worthwhile story he found
.
If he discovered news, his job was not to suppress or modify it in any
way, but to write a full and accurate report, then deliver it to the
organization that employed him
.
At that point what had been written would go to an editor. It was the
editor, or editors, who must consider ethics
.
In Baltimore, Dawson thought, where his story would be
printing out at another computer terminal, that was probably happening right now
.
As he concluded, he pressed a key to get a local printout for himself
.
However, another hand reached out and got the printout first
.
It was the bureau chief, Sandy Sefton, who had just come in. A veteran
general reporter, Sefton was a few years from retirement and he and
Dawson were good friends. As he read the printout, the bureau chief
whistled softly, then looked up
.”
You got a hot one all right. Those words of Elliott's--did you write
them down right when he said them
?
”
"Within seconds
.”
Dawson showed the older man his notes
.”
Good! Have you talked to this other guy, Alden Rhodes
?
”
Dawson shook his head
.”
Baltimore will probably want you to
.”
A telephone rang
.”
Want to bet
that's Baltimore now
?
”
It was. Sefton took the call, listened briefly, then said, "My boy's
gonna lead the paper tonight, right
?
”
He grinned as he passed the phone
to Dawson
.”
It's Frazer
.”
J. Allardyce Frazer was executive editor. He wasted no time, his voice
authoritative
.”
You haven't spoken to Theodore Elliott directly yet
.
Correct
?
”
"Correct, Mr. Frazer
.”
"Do it. Tell him what you have and ask if he has a comment. If he denies
saying it, report that too. If he does deny, try for a confirmation from
Alden Rhodes. You know the kind of question to ask
?
”
"I think so
.”
"Let me talk to Sandy
.”
The bureau chief took the phone. He winked at Dawson while he listened
,
then said, "I've seen Glen's notes. He wrote Elliott's words on the spot
.
They're clear. No chance of a misunderstanding
.”
Replacing the phone, Sefton told Dawson
.”
You're not home free yet;
they're debating ethics. You carry on with Elliott. I'll try to locate
Rhodes; he can't have got back to Washington
.”
Sefton crossed the room
to use another phone
.
Dawson tapped out Globanic's number. After going
through a switchboard, a woman's voice answered. The reporter identified himself and asked for "Mr. Theodore Elliott
.”
"Mr. Elliott is not available now
,”
the voice said pleasantly
.”
I'm Mrs
.
Kessler. Is there something I can do
?
”
"Perhaps
.”
Dawson carefully explained why he had called
.
The voice became cool
.”
Wait, please
.”