Evenings he stayed in his hotel room, ordered room-service dinners and chuckled over his reading of Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses. He was more than a hundred pages in when the phone rang. The surgeons wanted to talk again. Madoor suggested they meet in the Public Garden near the “Make Way for Ducklings” sculpture, the line of eight bronze ducklings trailing their mother at the edge of the park lawn.
At the appointed time the next day, a Saturday, they found a bench to share and Madoor described what they would have to do. He studied their reactions as they grasped the implications of his plan and for a few moments he thought it possible he would lose them. But his logic was persuasive. The job was simple. It entailed no violence. Everything was worked out. They just needed to follow
