Death Watch Read Online Free Page A

for yourself.’
    â€˜I’m already doing that. In case you’ve forgotten, the paper I presented at the symposium in Toronto was
very
well received.’
    â€˜Are you deliberately being thick?’ his wife demanded.
    â€˜No, I don’t think so,’ Stevenson replied – and he was only
half
lying.
    â€˜It’s time you started to make a name for yourself
with the public at large
.’
    Stevenson glanced out of his office window at the shiny glass and concrete structures which made up the UCL campus. It was an ultra-modern university and made no pretence at being anything else, he thought. And yet, in many ways, it was just as peaceful and contemplative as any of the colleges in Oxford and Cambridge – just as much a place to think and dream.
    â€˜Did you hear what I said?’ his wife asked. ‘It’s time that you started to make a name for yourself with the public at large.’
    â€˜Do you know, I’m not sure I really want to do that,’ Stevenson told her.
    â€˜Then what about me?’ Rosemary replied. ‘Don’t I count? Don’t you see how it might help to advance my career?’
    Stevenson laughed lightly. ‘I’m sure that a woman of your obvious ability doesn’t need any help from me,’ he said.
    â€˜Then what about your sense of duty?’ his wife persisted. ‘If there’s a nutter running amok and you can help to catch him, don’t you think you’re pretty much obliged to?’
    Stevenson sighed. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he agreed.
    â€˜So you’ll do it?’
    â€˜So I’ll
think
about it.’
    â€˜If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be where you are today,’ Rosemary said.
    â€˜I quite agree with you there,’ Stevenson agreed. ‘You’ve been a wonderful guide.’
    â€˜So why won’t you let me guide you now? Why won’t you see that what I’m suggesting would be good for both of us?’
    â€˜I really
will
think about it,’ Stevenson promised. He paused for a second. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting back to the investigation, darling?’
    â€˜Damn right,’ his wife agreed. ‘If I’m not careful, that bitch Monika Paniatowski will go ahead and grab all the glory, because not only has she got a protector in Cloggin’-it Charlie, but she’s free to sleep with anyone she wants to – which is well known to be a good way to get on.’
    â€˜I’m sure your own virtue will be rewarded in good time, darling,’ Stevenson said.
    â€˜I don’t want to wait for “good time”, Martin,’ his wife said. ‘I want my reward
now
.’
    â€˜I’ll talk to you later,’ Stevenson said, replacing the phone on the hook, and renewing his contemplation of the university campus.

Three
    T he man alighting from the train which had just pulled into Whitebridge’s late-Victorian railway station was in his early thirties. He had alert brown eyes and a determined jaw. His dark hair was neat without being austere, and he was wearing a smart blue suit. An uninformed observer might well have taken him for a tough London business executive on a whistle-stop inspection tour which was intended to put the fear of God into the quaintly provincial managers of his company’s old-fashioned northern branches. Closer examination, however, would have revealed an air of uncertainty about him which would not sit well on the shoulders of a company hatchet man. And a moment later, when he reached up into the carriage and gently lifted down a small child, the initial impression would not have had a leg left to stand on.
    â€˜Well, here we are. We’re finally home, darling,’ Bob Rutter said to his daughter.
    Louisa, who was not quite four, looked up at him questioningly. ‘Home?’ she repeated.
    â€˜You remember, don’t you?’ Rutter asked, with some concern. ‘This is