Doctor Gavrilov (47 page)

He turned back to Katie. She was looking up at him, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Dmitry said, very gently, ‘No, I don't think there's any chance… but it's still the right thing to do.'

He knew they would not have long before the ambulance arrived. He looked across the room. His eyes fell on the gun, lying on the table by the bed. He said, ‘My fingerprints.' His mind was working slowly, but still fast enough to fill with fear. He must do something. He picked up the gun and wiped it clean of prints with the front of his shirt. Then an idea came to him and, wrapping the gun with a corner of the sheet, he placed it awkwardly in Tim's limp hand. Perhaps, until they did the forensics, this would confuse them. Perhaps it would stop them immediately looking for someone else.

Katie had put her head between her knees and was shaking now quite violently. Dmitry pulled her to her feet and led her downstairs, stumbling, away from Tim, away from the blood. She clung to him but Dmitry gently pushed her away from him, down on to the sofa, and, kneeling in front of her, took both her hands in his.

‘Katie, I am so sorry.'

‘It was you they meant to kill.'

‘I think so, yes.'

She gave a strange, convulsive sob. Dmitry put his arms around her and she didn't resist him; then she suddenly cried out and pressed herself against him. She looked up at him, held on to him tightly, saying, ‘Oh, Mitya, thank God it wasn't you… oh, thank God, it wasn't you.'

They stayed, embracing, for several long minutes. Dmitry could feel the warmth of her body melting into his, and the way she shuddered in his arms.

He said, beginning to panic now, ‘The ambulance and the police will be here any minute. I can't stay here… Katie, I must go.'

‘Go? Go where? Where could you go?'

‘I could go to Moscow. Now, this morning, on an early flight. If you didn't tell them straight away that I was here… You are in shock, you can't remember anything… Just give me a few hours to get away…'

‘No, you can't go, Mitya. I want you here, now, always.'

He took her face in his hands and made her look at him. Her eyes looked right into his and then she began suddenly to kiss him, quick, passionate kisses on his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids. Tears ran down his cheeks and she licked them away. She said, ‘Mitya, I didn't love him, not like you. It was never like it was with you… if you had only been there…'

In the distance, they heard the sound of the siren. It seemed to come from a long way off, intermittent, growing and then fading in intensity as it passed behind the buildings, but steadily coming nearer. He said, ‘There's not much time. You told me, once, that you would come to Russia to be with me if that was the only way to be together. Would you do that, Katie? If I went there, would you come?'

Katie said, ‘But I saw him, Mitya. It was self-defence. They couldn't convict you, they wouldn't even bring it to court. They couldn't possibly want to bring it to court. They will believe us… If you try to run away they will think you are guilty… Mitya, please, stay with me, tell the truth, it will be all right.'

But he knew it wouldn't be all right. How could he explain? His wife's lover dead, several shots in the body outside. Someone could have seen him from the houses opposite. If the dead man were a Libyan or a known assassin he might get away with it; but he might not be. The intelligence services would deny him, they wouldn't back his story; who knows what games they would want to play with him?

He tried to think clearly. The only thing he wanted was to be with Katie. But if he stayed, what would happen? The police would separate them at once, they would be questioned apart to check that their stories matched. Dmitry would be arrested; perhaps the police would be forced to bring a case against him, they might add all the other charges from the airport, he might become a scapegoat after all, be publicly named and humiliated and spend the rest of his life in prison. He wanted to explain all this, to discuss it, make the right decision, but there wasn't time.

He looked at Katie. He felt that his salvation lay only with this person, the one who would always love him whatever he became; his love, his only hope, his angel of redemption. He knew now that she still loved him despite all that he had done, and that there existed in this world a kind of love that could endure through anything, could survive disillusion and betrayal. She trembled in front of him; she looked so fragile, so frightened, how could he turn his back on her? He knew that if he left her she would feel he had abandoned her. His mind was in turmoil, rushing backwards and forwards; he thought that he would stay; then he thought that he would go; then he thought that he would stay again.

He heard the squeal of brakes outside the house. Blue lights flashed eerily around the room.

Katie let go of him suddenly, said, ‘Quick! Go out the back way.'

He grabbed his bag and coat and ran out into the night.