Dead Tomorrow

moment.
    ‘Would one hour’s time be all right?’
    ‘One hour?’
    ‘For the ambulance to collect yourself and Caitlin?’
    Suddenly, Lynn felt boiling hot, as if her head was about to explode.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Pardon?’
    Shirley Linsell patiently repeated what she had just said.
    Lynn stood in numb silence, holding the phone to her ear.
    ‘Hello? Mrs Beckett?’
    Her brain was paralysed.
    ‘Mrs Beckett? Are you there?’
    ‘Yes,’ Lynn said. ‘Yes.’
    ‘We’ll have an ambulance with you in one hour.’
    ‘Right,’ Lynn said. ‘Umm, the thing is…’ She fell silent.
    ‘Hello? Mrs Beckett?’
    ‘I’m here,’ she said.
    ‘It’s a very good match.’
    ‘Right, good, OK.’
    ‘Do you have some concerns you’d like to talk about?’
    Lynn’s brain was scrambling for traction. What the hell should she do? Tell the woman no thanks, that she was now sorted?
    With a police helicopter overhead.
    Where had Marlene Hartmann gone, almost running from the room?
    What if thewheels fell off, despite the payment she had made? Maybe it would be more sensible, even at this late stage, to take the offer of the legitimate liver?
    Like the last time, when they had been bumped for some sodding alcoholic?
    Caitlin would not survive if they got bumped again. ‘Can we talk through your concerns, Mrs Beckett?’
    ‘Yep, well, after the last time–that was a pretty damn tough call. I don’t think I could put Caitlin through that again.’
    ‘I understand that, Mrs Beckett. I can’t give you any guarantees that our consultant surgeon won’t find a problem with this one either. But, so far, it looks good.’
    Lynn sat back down at one of the chairs in front of Marlene Hartmann’s desk. She desperately needed to think this through.
    ‘I have to call you back,’ Lynn said. ‘How long can you give me?’
    Sounding surprised, the woman said, ‘I can give you ten minutes. Otherwise I will have to pass it to the next person on the list, I’m afraid. I really think you would be making a terrible mistake not to accept this.’
    ‘Ten minutes, thank you,’ Lynn said. ‘I’ll call you. Within ten minutes.’
    She hung up. Then she attempted to weigh the pros and cons in her mind, trying not to be influenced by the money she had paid over.
    A certain liver here at this clinic, versus an uncertain liver in London.
    Caitlin should be part of this decision. Then she looked at her watch. Nine minutes to go.
    She hurriedout across the carpeted area and through the door into the tiled corridor. Ahead on her right she saw a door ajar and peered in. It was a small changing room, with lockers and a bench seat. Lying on the seat was Caitlin’s duffel coat.
    She must be somewhere near, she thought. A short distance further along was another open door, to the left. She walked down and looked in, and saw a storeroom with a gurney on wheels and what looked like an operating-theatre door, with a glass porthole, at the far end.
    She hurried across and peered through the glass. An unconscious, naked girl, not Caitlin, lay intubated on the operating table. Several masked people, in green scrubs, were heaving a huge, unconscious nurse, covered in blood, up off the floor. As they staggered around under her weight, Lynn saw, to her shock, it was the nurse, Draguta, who had taken Caitlin off.
    She felt a sudden fear catching her throat. Something was terribly wrong. She pushed the door open and went in.
    ‘Excuse me!’ she called out. ‘Excuse me! Does anyone know where my daughter is? Caitlin?’
    Several of them turned to stare at her.
    ‘Your daughter?’ said a young man, in broken English.
    ‘ Caitlin . She’s having an operation. A transplant.’
    The surgeon glanced at the nurse, then back at Lynn. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Not now.’
    ‘Where is she?’ she said, almost yelling at him, her fear rising. ‘What’s going on? Where is she?’ She jabbed a hand at Draguta. ‘What’s happened?’
    ‘I think you should speak with your daughter,’ he said.
    ‘Where is she? Please, where is she?’
    He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
    She glanced at her watch. Seven minutes left.
    She turned andran, panic-stricken, from the room, back out into the corridor, shouting loudly, ‘Caitlin! Caitlin! Caitlin!’
    She flung open a door, but it was just a laundry room. Then another, but it contained only an MRI scanner and was otherwise empty.
    ‘CAITLIN!’ she screamed desperately, running