“Then we ought to tell the police right away,” Joni said, jumping up. “After all, honey, that’s what they’re paid for.”
“No, we mustn’t. They said they’d know immediately if we did, and would send her back in a coffin.”
“A coffin? Are you sure that’s what they said?” Joni asked quietly.
“Damn it, of course I’m sure, but they told me she’ll be just fine as long as we don’t talk to the police. I don’t understand it. I’m not a rich man.”
“I still think we ought to call the police. After all, Chief Dixon’s a personal friend.”
“No, no!” shouted McKenzie. “Don’t you understand? If we do that they’ll kill her.”
“All I understand,” replied his wife, “is that you’re out of our depth and your daughter is in great danger.” She paused. “You should call Chief Dixon right now.”
“No!” repeated her husband at the top of his voice. “You just don’t begin to understand.”
“I understand only too well,” said Joni, her voice remarkably calm. “You intend to play Chief of Police for Columbus as well as Dean of the Medical School, despite the fact that you’re quite unqualified to do so. How would you react if a state trooper marched into your operating room, leaned over one of your patients and demanded a scalpel?”
T. Hamilton McKenzie stared coldly at his wife, and assumed it was the strain that had caused her to react so irrationally.
The two men listening to the conversation on the other side of town glanced at each other. The man with earphones said, “I’m glad it’s him and not her we’re going to have to deal with.”
When the phone rang again an hour later both T. Hamilton McKenzie and his wife jumped as if they had been touched by an electric wire.
McKenzie waited for several rings as he tried to compose himself. Then he picked up the phone. “McKenzie,” he said.
“Listen to me carefully,” said the quiet voice, “and don’t interrupt. Answer only when instructed to do so. Understood?”
“Yes,” said McKenzie.
“You did well not to contact the police as your wife suggested,” continued the quiet voice. “Your judgment is better than hers.”
“I want to talk to my daughter,” interjected McKenzie.
“You’ve been watching too many late-night movies, Dr. McKenzie. There are no heroines in real life—or heroes, for that matter. So get that into your head. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” said T. Hamilton McKenzie.
“You’ve wasted too much of my time already,” said the quiet voice. The line went dead.
It was over an hour before the phone rang again, during which time Joni tried once more to convince her husband that they should contact the police. This time T. Hamilton McKenzie picked up the receiver without waiting. “Hello? Hello?”
“Calm down, Dr. McKenzie,” said the quiet voice, “and this time, listen. Tomorrow morning at eight-thirty you’ll leave home and drive to the hospital as usual. On the way you’ll stop at the Olentangy Inn and take any table in the corner of the coffee shop that is not already occupied. Make sure it can only seat two. Once we’re confident that no one has followed you, you’ll be joined by one of my colleagues and given your instructions. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“One false move, Doctor, and you will never see your daughter again. Try to remember, it’s you who is in the business of extending life. We’re in the business of ending it.”
The phone went dead.
Chapter Five
Hannah was sure that she could carry it off. After all, if she couldn’t deceive them in London, what hope was there that she could do so in Baghdad?
She chose a Tuesday morning for the experiment, having spent several hours reconnoitering the area the previous day. She decided not to discuss her plan with anyone, fearing that one of the Mossad team might become suspicious if she were to ask one question too many.
She checked herself in the hall mirror. A clean white T-shirt and baggy sweater, well-worn jeans, sneakers, tennis socks and her hair looking just a little untidy.
She packed her small, battered suitcase—the one family possession they’d allowed her to keep—and left the little terraced house a few minutes after ten o’clock. Mrs. Rubin had gone earlier to do what she called her “big shop,” an attempt to stock up at Sainsbury’s for the next couple of weeks.