Honor Among Thieves

“Glad to have been of assistance, sir.”

When Kratz’s car screeched to a halt outside the Centre Cardiovasculaire on bois Gilbert there were three doctors, two orderlies and a nurse waiting for them on the hospital steps. The embassy must have pulled out every stop.

The two orderlies ran forward and lifted the body gently but firmly out of the back seat of the car, carrying Scott quickly up the steps before placing him on a waiting gurney.

Even as the gurney was being wheeled down the corridor the three doctors and the nurse surrounded the body and began their examination. The nurse quickly removed Scott’s shirt and trousers while the first doctor opened his mouth to check his breathing. The second, a consultant, lowered his ear onto Scott’s chest and tried to listen for a heartbeat, while the third checked his blood pressure; none of them looked hopeful.

The consultant turned to the Mossad leader and said firmly, “Don’t waste any time with lies. How did it happen?”

“We poisoned him, but he turned out not to be—”

“I’m not interested,” he said. “What poison did you administer?”

“Ergot alkaloid,” said Kratz.

The consultant switched his attention to one of his assistants. “Ring the Hospital Widal and get me details of its action and the correct antidote, fast,” he said as the orderlies crashed through the rubber doors and into a private operating theater.

The first doctor had managed to keep Scott’s mouth open during the short journey and create an airway. He had already pressed down the tongue to leave a clear passageway to the larynx. Once the gurney had come to a stop in the theater he inserted a clear angled plastic tube of about five inches in length to ensure the tongue could not be swallowed.

The nurse then placed a mask over Scott’s nose and mouth that was connected to an oxygen supply on the wall. Attached to the side of the mask was a rubber bag, w

hich she began pumping regularly every three or four seconds with her left hand as she held his head steady with her right. Scott’s lungs were immediately filled with oxygen.

The consultant placed an ear over Scott’s heart again. He could still hear nothing. He raised his head and nodded to an orderly who began rubbing paste on different parts of Scott’s chest. Another nurse followed him, placing small electronic discs on the paste marks. The wires from the discs were connected to a heart monitor machine that stood on a table by the side of the gurney.

The fine line that ran across the machine and registered the strength of the heartbeat produced a weak signal.

The consultant smiled below his mask, as the nurse continued to pump oxygen into the patient’s mouth and nose.

Suddenly, without warning, the heart machine gave out a piercing sound. Everyone in the operating room turned to face the monitor, which was now showing a thin, flat line running from one side of the screen to the other.

“Cardiac arrest!” shouted the consultant. He jumped forward and placed the heel of his hand over Scott’s sternum, and with both arms firmly locked he began to rock backwards and forward as he tried to push a volume of blood from the heart to resuscitate his patient. Like a proficient weightlifter, he was able to pump away with his arms at a rate of forty to fifty times a minute.

An intern wheeled forward the defibrillator. The consultant placed two large electric clamps onto the front and side of Scott’s chest.

“Two hundred joules,” said the consultant. “Stand clear.” They all took a pace back as a shock was transferred from the electric discharge machine and ran through Scott’s body.

They stared at the monitor as the consultant jumped forward again and continued to pump Scott’s chest with the palms of his hands, but the thin green line did not respond. “Two hundred joules, stand clear,” he repeated firmly, and they all stood back again to watch the effect of the electric shock. But the line remained obstinately flat. The consultant quickly returned to pumping Scott’s chest with his hands.

“Three hundred and sixty joules, stand clear,” said the consultant in desperation, but the nurse who raised the number on the dial knew the patient was already dead.

The consultant pressed a button, and they all watched the highest shock allowed pass through Scott’s body, assuming that must be the end. They turned their attention to the monitor.

“We’ve lost him,” was on the consultant’s lips, when to their astonishment they saw the line begin to show a faint flicker. He leaped forward and began pumping away with the palms of his hands as the flicker continued to show irregular fibrillation. “Three hundred and sixty joules, stand clear,” he said once again. The button was pressed and their attention returned to the monitor. Fibrillation returned to a normal rhythm. The youngest doctor cheered.

Another doctor rushed into the room and, facing his superior, said, “The antidote is GTN.”

The consultant quickly located a vein in Scott’s left arm and jabbed a needle directly into it, leaving a cannula sticking out to which a saline drip was quickly attached.

A nurse went straight over to the poisons cabinet and extracted a vial of glyceryl trinitrate, which she passed to the consultant, who had a syringe ready. He extracted the blue liquid from the vial, shot a little into the air to be sure it was flowing freely, then pumped the antidote into a side valve of the intravenous drip. He turned to watch the monitor. The flicker maintained a constant rhythm.

The consultant turned to the senior nurse and said, “Do you believe in miracles?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m a Jew. Miracles are only for Christians.”

Hannah began to form a plan, a plan that would brook no interference from Kratz. She had made the decision to accept the job as senior secretary to the Ambassador, and to accompany him back to Iraq.

As the hours passed, her plan began to take shape. She was aware there would be problems. Not from the Iraqi side, but from her own people. Hannah knew that she would have to circumvent Mossad’s attempts to take her out, which meant that she could never leave the embassy, even for one moment, until the time came for the Ambassador to return to Iraq. She would use all the techniques they had taught her over the past two years to defeat them.