Journey

Colombia had been an interesting challenge for him, the political situation there had been delicate, and the drug trade pervaded everything in the country. It was intricately interwoven into all forms of business, tainted politics, and corruption was rampant. He had been fascinated by what he had to do there, and felt equal to the task until his wife was kidnapped. His voice quavered as he said it. She was held prisoner for seven months, he said, fighting back tears, and then finally gave in to them, as the psychiatrist sitting next to him gently reached out to touch his arm, as though to steady him, and he smiled at her. They were all friends now, and knew each others most intimate, and best-hidden secrets.

“We tried everything to get her back,” he explained in a deep, troubled voice. Maddy had calculated from the time he'd spent in his three diplomatic posts that he was sixty. He had white hair, and blue eyes, and a youthful face, and he looked strong and athletic. “The State Department sent special negotiators to talk to representatives from the terrorist group that was holding her hostage. They wanted a prisoner exchange, trading her for one hundred political prisoners, and the State Department wouldn't agree to it. I understand the reasons for it, but I didn't want to lose her. The CIA tried too, and they tried to kidnap her back, but they fumbled the attempt, and she was moved into the mountains and after that we couldn't find her. Eventually, I personally paid the ransom they wanted, and then I did a very foolish thing.” His voice shook again as he continued to tell the story, and Maddy s heart went out to him, as did everyone's, as they listened. “I tried to negotiate with them myself. I did everything I could. I almost went crazy trying to get her back. But they were too smart, too quick, too evil to beat. We paid the ransom, and three days later, they killed her. They dumped her body on the steps of the Embassy,” he said, choking on the words and giving in to tears now, “and they had cut her hands off.” He sat there sobbing for a moment, and no one moved, and then Phyllis Armstrong reached out and touched him, and he took a deep breath, as the others murmured their sympathy to him. It was a horrifying story, and a trauma everyone wondered how he had lived through. “I felt entirely responsible for making a botch of it. I should never have tried to negotiate with them myself, it just seemed to make them madder. I thought I could help, but I suspect that if I had left it alone and let the experts handle it, they'd have kept her for a year or two, as they had with others, and then released her. But by doing it myself, I more or less killed her.”

“That's nonsense, Bill,” Phyllis said firmly, “I hope you know that. You can't guess what might have happened. Those people are ruthless and immoral, a life means nothing to them. They might very well have killed her anyway. In fact, I'm sure they probably would have.”

“I think I'll always feel as though I did,” Bill said mournfully, “the press more or less said that.” And suddenly, as she listened, Maddy remembered Jack telling her that Bill Alexander was a fool, and she wondered how he could be so heartless, now that she knew the story.

“The press likes to make a sensation of things. They don't know what they're talking about most of the time,” Maddy added for good measure, as he glanced up at her with eyes full of sorrow. She had never seen so much pain in her life and she wanted to reach out and touch him but she was sitting too far away from him. “They just want to sell a story. I can tell you that from experience, Ambassador. I'm so sorry all of that happened to you,” Maddy said kindly.

“So am I. Thank you, Mrs. Hunter,” he said, and blew his nose in the clean handkerchief he took from his pocket.