Free Doctor Gavrilov by Maggie Hamand Page B

roared past over the viaduct and the fumes assaulted him, making him feel sick and dizzy for a moment. What to do now? He felt he had made a complete mess of the interview. This man he had spoken to was only an intermediary, he knew nothing. He had failed to find out anything of any use to Rozanov and had only succeeded in entangling himself, in making it seem as if he intended to do things he had no intention at all of doing. He should never have taken the money. He had a crazy impulse simply to take it and throw it in the bin.
    He stopped with a jerk on the pavement for an instant, forced himself instantly to walk on again. It was no use thinking about it now; he should go home and try to forget. But how could he forget? He knew even as he tried to trivialise it to himself that he had done something terrible, that he was already committed and that the Libyans would not easily let go of him; that he had sold his soul and that only with the greatest difficulty could he buy it back again.

Chapter Five
    S OMETHING very odd had happened.
    The previous morning, while Tim was lying in, Ingrid had come into the bedroom and said something to him. Tim, whose mind had been on his up-coming trip to Moscow, hadn’t listened to what it was, and merely said, ‘Right, fine,’ and waved as she picked up her bag and went out. When she didn’t come home in the evening, he had simply assumed she’d been telling him she’d gone somewhere for the evening. But she didn’t come back that night.
    The following evening there was no sign of her either. Tim was irritated with himself. He wished he’d paid attention to where she had said she was going.
    On the third day he began to have an uneasy feeling while he was at the office; it occurred to him for the first time that she might not have told him she was going away at all, and that she might have been taken ill or had an accident. He wondered with a horrible, sickening feeling, whether he had not been completely irresponsible. He rang her college and left a message for her to ring him. She didn’t call, and he rang and left a second message.
    There was nothing much happening in the newsroom. After lunch he told Rowley that he had a lead he wanted to follow up and took a taxi home.
    When he entered the flat he saw at once that it was different. A poster had gone from the wall and the candlesticks from the table. He strode into the bedroom and flung open the cupboards. All her clothes were gone. He went into the bathroom. The jars of cream, the shampoos and conditioners, the skin-care products and make-up, had all vanished.
    She hadn’t even left a note.
    Tim sat down heavily on the sofa. Then suddenly he started to laugh. He realised that he was relieved. He realised how long it was since they had really communicated with one another. He was lucky, too. Thank God she’d had the grace to go without making a dreadful scene.
    As he sat there, laughing, the doorbell rang.
    Tim ran up the stairs and opened the door and there was Katie. She looked harassed, flushed. She said, ‘I saw you were at home… I have to go and get Anna from school and Sasha’s just fallen asleep. Would you mind… if I leave him here and keep both the doors open, you would hear if he cried… You could go and sit upstairs if you wanted. I’ll only be half an hour…’
    Tim said, ‘Of course, that’s fine.’
    She handed him the key to their door just in case it slammed shut. ‘He’s in our room…’
    â€˜It’s all right. Don’t worry.’
    She turned and went out through the front door, banging it behind her. Tim stood in the hallway for a few minutes, then went through into their part of the house. It seemed too good an opportunity to miss. There was nothing much of interest in the living room, so he went upstairs, stepping quietly so as not to wake the baby. He checked Sasha really was asleep in the Moses basket at