Honour Among Thieves

talked of logic, it had a more practical application than the one suggested when Scott lectured his younger students at Yale. These men were all operating in the front line, stationed right across the globe. Often Professor Bradley pressed them to go over, detail by detail, decisions they had made under pressure, and whether those decisions had achieved the result they'd originally hoped for. They were quick to admit their mistakes. There was no room for personal pride - only pride in the service was considered acceptable. When Scott had first heard this sentiment he thought they were being corny, but after nine years of working with them in the classroom and in the gym, he'd learned otherwise. For over "an hour Bradley threw test cases at them, at the same time suggesting ways of how to dunk logically, always weighing known facts with subjective judgement before reaching any firm conclusion. Over the past nine years, Scott had learned as much from them as they had from him, but he still enjoyed helping them put his knowledge to practical 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