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After dining with you for the last seven years, I think I know as much about Bellini as ballistics.' 'I'm not going to give up trying for a field job - you realise that, Dexter, don't you?' 'You'll have to when you're fifty, because that's when we'll retire you.' 'But I'm only thirty-six. . .' 'You rise too easily to make a good field officer,' said the Deputy Director, puffing away at his cigar. When T. Hamilton McKenzie opened the front door of his house, he ignored the ringing phone as he shouted, 'Sally? Sally?' at the top of his voice, but he received no response. He finally snatched the phone, assuming it would be his daughter. 'Sally?' he repeated. 'Dr McKenzie?' asked a calmer voice. 'Yes, it is,' he said. 'If you're wondering where your daughter is, I can assure you that she's safe and well.' 'Who is this?' demanded McKenzie. 'I'll call later this evening, Dr McKenzie, when you've had time to calm down,' said the quiet voice. 'Meanwhile, do not, under any circumstances, contact the police or any private agency. If you do, we'll know immediately, and will be left with no choice but to return your lovely daughter -' he paused '- in a coffin.' The phone went dead. T. Hamilton McKenzie turned white, and in seconds was covered in sweat. 'What's the matter, honey?' asked Joni, as she watched her husband collapse onto the sofa. 'Sally's been kidnapped,' he said, aghast. 'They said not to contact the police. They're going to call again later this evening.' He stared at the phone. 'Sally's been kidnapped?' repeated Joni in disbelief. 'Yes,' snapped her husband. '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 your depth and our 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 theatre, 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 judgement 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 McKenzie. 'You've wasted too much of my time already,' said the quiet voice. The line went dead. It was over an hour