Betrayals (12 page)

Read Betrayals Online

Authors: Brian Freemantle

BOOK: Betrayals
11.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

For his part, Willsher kept the terms on behalf of the Agency, as well, reaching her, at the beginning of the third week before any news outlet to tell her of the photographs released by the Islamic Jihad. Harriet hurried over, in response to Janet's call, and together they sat, hands linked, in front of the television.

Janet whimpered aloud when the picture flashed up, shocked by Sheridan's appearance. There was no identifiable background and she guessed it had been taken against the wall of the cell in which he was being held. He had not been allowed to shave and the beard growth was very white, making him look much older. His hair was unkempt and straggled in places almost to his collar and it was grayer than she remembered, too, adding to the impression of age. The sports shirt was open at the neck and his thinness, almost a frailty, was more obvious to her from the bony ridges around his neck and chest than the hollow, sunken cheeks. Sheridan's eyes were sunken, as well. Janet thought how similar he appeared around the eyes to how she had looked that day of the intended bathroom suicide.

Beside her Harriet said: “Jesus!” and then at once, embarrassed at the unthinking reaction, tried to correct it by saying “I'm sorry … I didn't mean that …” and finally, “Oh shit!”

The commentary said the photograph had been accompanied by demands for the release of ten members of the group with whom the kidnappers were linked and who were currently being held in custody in Kuwait. If the Kuwaiti prisoners were not released, the American would be executed. The still photograph of Sheridan faded, to be replaced by live footage of a State Department spokesman in front of a map of the world, saying that the demands were being considered and discussed with friendly countries. Janet took the first two calls herself but after that relayed her reaction through Harriet, saying that she was relieved at the evidence that Sheridan was still alive and that she hoped negotiations could now be opened leading to his freedom. So busy was her telephone that it was difficult to get a call out but she finally did. Willsher seemed to be expecting her.

“Kuwait normally refuses to be pressured,” Janet said at once.

“Yes,” agreed the CIA official, just as quickly.

“Will they on this occasion?”

“The liaison is through the State Department,” Willsher said vaguely.

“Is Kuwait being asked to concede?”

“It's delicate,” Willsher said. “There's a limit to the requests and demands we can make.”

Janet paused, needing to force herself to ask the question. “So John is going to die?”

“No, Ms. Stone,” said the man, always patient. “Everything that can be done is being done: I keep telling you that. And you've overlooked something in their demand.”

“What!” asked Janet.

“They haven't imposed a time limit for compliance.”

Janet was annoyed at herself for not having spotted the fact, which was important. Probing to see if the official view were the same as her own, Janet said: “How do you see the significance of that?”

“A concession, before we even start,” said Willsher, encouragingly. “They know a time limit would have boxed us in. So they've already accepted that persuasion can take a while. We've got room to move.”

“Yes,” agreed Janet, feeling a sweep of hope.

“So let's not get too depressed too quickly,” Willsher said encouragingly.

“I'll try not to let it happen,” Janet said.

It was not an easy undertaking to keep. Two days later Kuwait officially announced that it saw no reason to abandon its established policy of resisting terrorist pressure and that they would not comply with the demand involving the American citizen, John Sheridan. The State Department immediately summoned the Kuwaiti ambassador to Foggy Bottom for talks with the Secretary of State, who was photographed bidding the diplomat farewell. On the steps of the Kuwait embassy the ambassador allowed himself to be interviewed. He said that while his country sympathized with the hostage taking of a U.S. national there had been nothing in his conversation with the Secretary of State to make him think his country would alter its stance. Concessions to terrorism encouraged further and worse acts of terrorism.

Three days after the Kuwaiti rejection, Sheridan's kidnappers issued another photograph of him, this time apparently manacled to a metal bed or platform, with a second statement threatening to send to the U.S. embassy in Beirut severed parts of the CIA man's body, to convince Washington and Kuwait of the seriousness of their demands.

The White House in turn issued a statement of its own deploring the threat as bestial, insisting that any such act would be treated as common criminality to be prosecuted in any country in the world and called upon civilized governments to impose their combined efforts to resolve the situation. In an unprecedented demonstration of cooperation between Mikhail Gorbachev and Ronald Reagan, Moscow published a condemnation of hostage taking and promised to liaise with Western governments to bring about its cessation.

Janet was inundated by fresh press inquiries, invitations to television appearances and offers, one as high as $10,000, to write her own account of her romance with John Sheridan and the pressure to which she felt subjected by the kidnap. A talk-show agency in Atlanta asked to represent her, suggesting a country-wide lecture tour at $5,000 an address with an assurance of a minimum of ten lectures. Senator Blackstone tried to persuade her to appear with him on a televised evangelical church service when he intended asking watching worshippers to link hands across the entire United States in a silent vigil for the safe release of John Sehridan. Janet refused them all, sticking to the agreement she had made with Willsher, although she believed that continued publicity would have maintained the U.S. public concern she regarded as necessary. She did, however, insist upon another personal meeting, and Willsher set it up at the Franklin Park office block.

The day before the appointment the university authorities gratefully agreed to her taking an unspecified leave of absence. After being besieged for so long in her apartment, Janet sneaked out the basement garbage entrance to hide in Harriet's Georgetown house.

The next day, with Willsher, Janet carefully enumerated all approaches, wanting to impress upon the CIA officer that she was observing her side of the pact. Willsher said: “I think you've been very wise.”

“I don't, particularly,” said Janet. “I made a deal and I've kept to it. So what have you got to offer in return?”

“You wouldn't believe the background pressure that's being imposed,” said Willsher.

“I won't, unless it's spelled out to me in detail,” agreed Janet, relentlessly.

The neat, precise man coughed. “It's unheard of for Moscow to come out, like they did. It means that between us there isn't an Arab government, pro-East or pro-West, that isn't involved.”

“Doing what?” persisted Janet.

“We've positive assurances from Syria of the cooperation of their troops on the ground and their intelligence service actively to try to find him,” Willsher said. “In addition, the President has been personally assured by Israel that the Mossad are pulling out all the stops.”

“You haven't mentioned Iran,” reminded Janet, pointedly. “And the only lead the Islamic Jihad and the Fundamentalists follow comes from Teheran and the ayatollahs.”

“Who would you say has closest links?”

Janet considered the question and said: “France.”

Willsher smiled. “Another President to President promise, from Paris. In adddition the British have made available to us all their electronic eavesdropping facilities on Cyprus and we're flying overhead intercepts the length and breadth of the Lebanon, from the NATO bases in Turkey. A fortnight ago NSA shifted one of its Mediterranean satellites and put it in permanent geostationary orbit directly over Beirut. No one speaks on the telephone or the radio without us hearing what's said: we can count the bricks in the walls.”

“All very impressive,” said Janet.

“I'm glad you think so,” said Willsher, misunderatanding.

“So what's it achieved?”

“Ms. Stone,” said Willsher, gently. “Some hostages have been held in the Lebanon for years.”

“Seventeen hostages,” enumerated Janet, just as controlled. “And if we're going to go on quoting statistics, seven more have been tortured and killed. All of which frightens the hell out of me because I don't want John Sheridan achieving some kidnap endurance record or being tortured or dismembered or killed.”

“Tell me!” demanded Willsher, holding his hands out towards her. “Tell me what else or what more you'd have us do! Tell me something we haven't thought of!”

“You know why no other Russians have been kidnapped, after October, 1985?”

“Yes I do, Ms. Stone,” Willsher responded at once. “I know the KGB sent in hit squads and I know that fifteen Shia fanatics were killed as a warning to leave Soviet personnel alone. But I also know that one of the four Russians kidnapped in October, 1985, was murdered before the rescue squads got to him.”

“There must be some way you can force the Kuwaitis to give in!” pleaded Janet, desperately.

“We can't,” said the CIA officer. “We know we can't because we've tried that, too.”

That night, in Harriet's Georgetown house where she'd first met John Sheridan, Janet drank more than she normally did, agreeing to brandy after the wine, but the idea, when it came, was in no way a drunken one, although that was Harriet's immediate thought.

When she belatedly realized that Janet was quite serious, Harriet said: “That's absurd: absolutely absurd.”

“Why?”

“Jesus Christ, darling! For every reason!”

“I'm going to do it,” said Janet, feeling positively excited.

“What if John dies?”

Janet gazed for several moments across the dinner table at her friend and then said: “That's almost inevitable, the way it's being handled so far. Which is what I'm trying to prevent. The last time there wasn't anything I could even try to do to prevent the inevitable, remember?”

“Darling!” exclaimed her mother, when Janet telephoned five minutes later. “It would be wonderful to have you home!”

“Not for long, Mother,” warned Janet. “Not for long.”

11

I
t was an overnight flight from America, landing in London early in the morning. Janet had been unable to sleep at all and arrived feeling unwashed and gritty-eyed. It was not until she got through Immigration and was waiting by the carousel for her luggage that Janet remembered the original plan: to be here with John, for the wedding. She half turned, as if expecting him to be by her side, an unthinking reaction of tiredness. She blinked, feeling stupid, relieved that her bag came up almost at once so she could grab it and move away.

Her parents were waiting right by the exit, behind the barrier, and the moment Janet emerged her mother waved to attract attention. The woman hugged her and released her and hugged her again while her father waited patiently for his turn and just hugged her and kissed her once when it came.

From the first kiss her mother began a non-stop jabber of questions without ever waiting for answers and over the woman's head her father smiled and Janet smiled back. Janet thought her mother twittered and decided the word was apposite: she was a thin, small-boned woman with jerky movements, like a twittering bird. Her father was a complete contrast, a quiet, unemotional man who she doubted had ever done anything or said anything without considering it first. From their time on postings together Janet always thought of him as someone in black because he really had worn a kind of uniform, dark subdued suits when it had not been striped trousers with black formal jacket. Now the suit was a retired country tweed but the sharp trouser crease and the waistcoat still gave a vague formality to it. He seemed fuller in the face than Janet remembered from her last visit, but it was his hair that registered with her most. Although he had to be twenty-five years older than John, her father's hair was still almost completely black: from those awful pictures that remained so vivid in her mind Janet decided it was John who could be this man's father rather than the other way around.

Other books

Advance Notice by Cynthia Hickey
Saving the Rifleman by Julie Rowe
Hurt Me by Glenna Marie
What Stays in Vegas by Adam Tanner
Relentless by Anna Wells
Arrhythmia by Johanna Danninger
The Wonga Coup by Adam Roberts
Revenge at Bella Terra by Christina Dodd