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use. Scott had
often felt he too would like to be tested in the field, and not simply in the
lecture theatre.
    When
the session was over, Scott joined them in the gym for another workout. He
climbed ropes, pumped iron and practised karate exercises, and they never once
treated him as anything other than a full member of the team. Anyone who
patronised the visiting professor from Yale often ended up with more than their
egos bruised.
    Over
dinner that night – no alcohol, just Quibel...
    Scott
asked the Deputy Director if he was ever going to be allowed to gain some field
experience.
    ‘It’s
not a vacation job, you know,’ came back Dexter Hutchins’ reply as he lit up a
cigar. ‘Give up Yale and join us full time and then perhaps we’ll consider the
merits of allowing you out of the classroom.’
    ‘I’m
due for a sabbatical next year,’ Bradley reminded his superior.
    ‘Then
take that trip to Italy you’ve always been promising yourself. 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