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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 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 8.30 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 are in the business of extending life. We’re in the
business of ending it.’
    The
phone went dead.

Chapter 5
    H ANNAH 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
reconnoitring 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 a fortnight.
    Hannah
walked slowly down the road, knowing that if she were caught they’d put her on
the next flight home. She disappeared into the tube station, showed her
travel-card to the ticket collector, went down in the lift and walked to the
far end of the brightly-lit platform as the train rumbled into the station.
    At
Leicester Square she changed to the Piccadilly line, and when the train pulled
in to South Kensington, Hannah was among the first to reach the escalator. She
didn’t run up the steps, which would have been her natural inclination, because
running attracted attention. She stood quietly on the escalator, studying the
advertisements on the wall so that no one could see her face. The new
fuel-injected Rover 200, Johnnie Walker whisky, a warning against AIDS, and
Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Sunset Boulevard at the Adelphi glared back at her. Once
she’d emerged into the sunlight, Hannah quickly checked