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�Your son�s been kidnapped, but don�t tell anyone� By RALPH BARTHOLDT ST. MARIES, Idaho � On that day in October, the sky was the azure color you see in the mountains in the fall. From her home in the small northern Idaho town of St. Maries, Leona Derry could step onto the narrow cement sidewalk and smell the freshness rising from the surrounding mountains like a deep blue pool. Despite the beautiful day, Oct. 12, 2000, will forever loom dark in Derry�s mind. It was the day her son, Steve, was among 10 people kidnapped in the jungles of Ecuador. Steve Derry, 40, of Gold Hill, a former Marine and a helicopter mechanic with Central Point-based Erickson Air-Crane, was one of 10 people snatched by gun-wielding members of a guerrilla group that assaulted an oil camp in the El Coca region, about 150 miles from Quito, Ecuador. This week, he and six other oil workers � including two fellow Gold Hill men and Erickson employees, Arnold Alford, 41, and Jason Weber, 29, � were released after months of negotiations with kidnappers. One of the hostages was killed; two others had escaped four days after capture. A ransom of $13 million reportedly was paid for the seven hostages, which included a New Zealander, a Chilean and an Argentine. The kidnappers had initially requested $80 million for the safe return of the hostages. "Nobody knows how much they really paid," Leona says. "There may only be one person in the company who knows." The intrigue surrounding the case struck early. Leona and her husband, Harold, a logger, live in a small house in a quiet area of this northern Idaho lumber town. She baby-sits her two young grandchildren; he rises early for a logging job in the mountains. When the Derrys were informed of the kidnapping last year, the phone call came with a caveat: Don�t tell anyone, or negotiations may break down and the hostages could be hurt. Keeping a secret is difficult in a small town where news comes less from the local newspaper than by word of mouth in the two cafes. "We were told at the start it�s going to be a long ordeal," Leona says. "They didn�t know where (the hostages) were, or who got them." "I think they still don�t know who it was, or exactly where they were," Harold says. The admonition early on to tell no one made the wait more difficult. "It was hard," Leona says. Since the telephone call in the early morning last October, the mother of seven sons, three of whom live nearby, arose each day and turned on the television waiting for news. There was precious little. "Not very much," she says. "They kept it real quiet." Officials at Erickson Air-Crane called often, but the outlook was usually bleak, she says. She passed days and nights worrying. She and her friends at church prayed for her son�s safety. She feared for his life. On her wrist, Leona still wears the yellow band embossed with Steve�s name and the names of other hostages. "It�s kind of like a yellow ribbon," she says. Last year, the Derry family � and other families of hostages � sent a care package hoping the guerrillas would give them to the captives, but they didn�t. They sent a Christmas package, too. "An airplane clock," Leona says. Her son, a 15-year Erickson employee, is a sport plane pilot who taught himself to fly. "And a small Christmas tree," she adds. Her son will open his Christmas gifts when he returns home to Gold Hill, she says. It is spring now, and runoff puddles in lawns in the Derrys� neighborhood. Leona�s anxiety has passed like the winter. Seated at the dining room table in her modest home, she and her husband break into smiles when their son�s name is mentioned. Then comes a somber moment of recollection. "We�re fortunate they got them out without being killed," Harold says, shaking his head. Thursday afternoon, Steve called from Ecuador, where he was being debriefed and cared for until flying home to the United States. "He sounded good," Harold says. "Real good." Steve was given a meal � better than the sardines and rice that his captors fed him for months � and a shave. "He said they tried to give him a physical, but he told them to buzz off, because he was going to talk to us first," Leona says, laughing. They didn�t have time to really talk, though, but the time will come. Mother and father anticipate a reunion soon. "We�re just waiting on word when he gets home," Harold says. "When they tell us to, we�ll be there at that airport." Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.