Honour Among Thieves

at the first chapter, having already decided she would have to read every page very slowly. After all, she couldn't be sure when the next offering might come. The movement was so fast that she didn't even feel the rope go round her neck. Sally's head jerked back and with one flick her vertebra was broken. Her chin slumped onto her chest. Blood began to trickle out of her mouth, down her chin and onto the cover of A Time to Love and a Time to. . . The driver of the limousine was surprised to be flagged down by a traffic cop just as he was about to take the exit ramp onto the freeway. He felt sure he hadn't broken the speed limit. Then he spotted the ambulance in his rear-view mirror, and wondered if they simply wanted to pass him. He looked to the front again to see the motorcycle cop was firmly waving him onto the hard shoulder. He immediately obeyed the order and brought the car to a standstill, puzzled as to what was going on. The ambulance drew in and stopped behind him. The cop dismounted from his motorcycle, walked up to the driver's door and tapped on the window. The chauffeur touched a button in the armrest and the window slid silently down. 'Is there a problem, officer?' 'Yes, sir, we have an emergency on our hands,' the policeman said without raising his visor. 'Your patient has to return to the Ohio State University Hospital immediately. There have been unforeseen complications. You're to transfer him to the ambulance and I will escort them back into the city.' The wide-eyed driver agreed with a series of consenting nods. 'Should I go back to the hospital as well?' he asked. 'No, sir, you're to continue to Cincinnati and report to your office.' The driver turned his head to see two paramedics dressed in white overalls standing by the side of the car. The policeman nodded and one of them opened the back door while the other released the seatbelt so that he could help the patient out. The driver glanced in the rear-view mirror and watched the paramedics guide the well-built man towards the ambulance. The siren on the motorcycle brought his attention back to the policeman who was now directing the ambulance up the exit ramp so that it could cross the bridge over the highway and begin its journey back into the city. The whole changeover had taken less than five minutes, leaving the driver in the limousine feeling somewhat dazed. He then did what he felt he should have done the moment he saw the policeman, and telephoned his headquarters in Cincinnati. 'We were just about to call you,' said the girl on the switchboard. 'They don't need the car any longer, so you may as well come straight back.' 'Suits me,' said the driver. 'I just hope the client pays the bill.' 'They paid cash in advance last Thursday,' she replied. The driver clicked the phone back on its cradle and began his journey to Cincinnati. But something was
    nagging in the back of his mind. Why had the policeman stood so close to the door that he couldn't get out, and why hadn't he raised his visor? He dismissed such thoughts. As long as the company had been paid, it wasn't his problem. He drove up onto the freeway, and didn't see the ambulance ignore the signpost to the city centre and join the stream of traffic going in the opposite direction. The man behind the wheel was also contacting his headquarters. 'It went as planned, boss,' was all he replied to the first question. 'Good,' said Cavalli. 'And the chauffeur?' 'On his way back to Cincinnati, none the wiser.' 'Good,' Cavalli repeated. 'And the patient?' 'Fine, as far as I can tell,' said the driver, glancing in the rear-view mirror. 'And the police escort?' 'Mario took a detour down a side road so he could get changed into his Federal Express uniform. He should catch up with us within the hour.' 'How long before the next switch?' The driver checked the milometer. 'Must be about another ninety miles, just after we cross the state line.' 'And then?' 'Four more changes between there and the Big Apple. Fresh drivers and a different car each time. The patient should be with you around midnight tomorrow, though he may have to stop off at a rest room or two along the way.' 'No rest rooms,' said Cavalli. 'Just take him off the highway and hide him behind a tree.' DOLLAR bill's NEW HOME turned out to be the basement of a house in Georgetown, formerly an artist's studio. The room where he worked was well lit without glare and, at his request, the temperature was kept at sixty-six degrees with a constant