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McKenzie,’ said the girl. ‘It’s been taken by me.’
    T.
Hamilton McKenzie began to perspire.
    ‘Coffee,
honey?’ asked the waitress who appeared by their side.
    ‘Yes,
black,’ was all she said, not glancing up.
    McKenzie
looked at the young woman more carefully. She must have been around thirty –
still at an age when she didn’t require his professional services. From her
accent, she was undoubtedly a native of New York, though with her dark hair,
dark eyes and olive skin her family must surely have emigrated from southern
Europe. She was slight, almost frail, and her neatly-patterned Laura Ashley
dress of autumn browns, which could have been purchased in any one of a
thousand stores across the country, made certain she would be forgettable in
any crowd. She didn’t touch the coffee that was placed in front of her.
    McKenzie
decided to go on the attack. ‘I want to know how Sally is.’
    ‘She’s
fine, just fine,’ said the woman calmly. She reached down and with a gloved
hand removed a single sheet of paper from her bag. She passed it over to him.
He unfolded the anonymous-looking sheet:
    It
was her writing, no question of that, but she would never have signed herself
‘Sal’. The coded message only made him more anxious.
    The
woman leaned across and snatched the letter back.
    ‘You
bastards. You won’t get away with it,’ he said, staring across at her.
    ‘Calm
down, Dr McKenzie. No amount of threats or rhetoric is going to influence us.
It’s not the first time we’ve carried out this sort of operation. So, if you
hope to see your daughter again. ..’
    ‘What
do you expect me to do?’
    The
waitress returned to the table with a fresh pot of coffee, but when she saw
that neither party had taken a sip she said, ‘Coffee’s getting cold, folks,’
and moved on.
    ‘I’ve
only got about $200,000 to my name. You must have made some mistake.’
    ‘It’s
not your money we’re after, Dr McKenzie.’
    ‘Then
what do you want? I’ll do anything to get my daughter back safely.’
    ‘The
company I represent specialises in gathering skills, and one of our clients is
in need of your particular expertise.’
    ‘But
you could have called and made an appointment like anyone else,’ he said in
disbelief.
    ‘Not
for what we have in mind, I suspect. And, in any case, we have a time problem,
and we felt Sally might help us get to the front of the queue.’
    ‘I
don’t understand.’
    ‘That’s
why I’m here,’ said the woman. Twenty minutes later, when both cups of coffee
were stone cold, T. Hamilton McKenzie understood exactly what was expected of
him. He was silent for some time before he said, ‘I’m not sure if I can do it.
To begin with, it’s professionally unethical. And do you realise just how
hard...’
    The
woman leaned down and removed something else from her bag. She tossed a small
gold earring over to his side of the table. ‘Perhaps this will make it a little
easier for you.’ T. Hamilton McKenzie picked up his daughter’s earring.
‘Tomorrow you get the other earring,’ the woman continued. ‘On Friday the first
ear. On Saturday the other ear. If you keep on worrying about your ethics, Dr
McKenzie, there won’t be much of your daughter left by this time next week.’
    ‘You
wouldn’t...’
    ‘Ask
John Paul Getty III if we wouldn’t.’
    T.
Hamilton McKenzie rose from the table and leaned across.
    ‘We
can speed the whole process up if that’s the way you want it,’ she added,
displaying not the slightest sign of fear.
    McKenzie
slumped back into his seat and tried to compose himself.
    ‘Good,’
she said. ‘That’s better. At least we now seem to understand each other.’
    ‘So
what happens next?’ he asked.
    ‘We’ll
be back in touch with you sometime later today. So make sure you’re in. Because
I feel confident that by then you’ll have come to terms with your professional
ethics.’
    McKenzie
was about to protest when the woman stood up, took a