Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [105]
I really didn’t fancy finding another gunman waiting for me in the street outside my office building.
I slowed to a halt on the sidewalk, with people hurrying past me in each direction late for work. I was less than a hundred yards away from Lombard Street.
It was as near as I got.
I turned around and retraced my path back up Princes Street to London Wall, where I went into a coffee shop and ordered a cappuccino.
Perhaps Claudia was right and I was becoming paranoid.
I looked at my watch. It was ten to nine. Patrick and Gregory would be expecting me in ten minutes.
What should I do?
My instinct at my mother’s cottage had been absolutely right when I had prevented Claudia from opening the front door to the gunman. But I desperately needed to talk to someone about my suspicions, to set in motion a proper investigation into the Bulgarian affair. Surely I would then be safe, as killing me would be too late. If Ben Roberts’s father wouldn’t talk to me, who else should I speak to? It had to be Patrick, if not to save my job, at least to save my life.
I turned on my mobile phone and rang the office number.
“Lyall and Black,” answered Mrs. McDowd. “Can I help you?”
“Hello, Mrs. McDowd,” I said. “It’s Mr. Nicholas here. Can I speak to Mr. Patrick, please?”
“He’s in the meeting room with Mr. Gregory and Andrew Mellor,” she said. “I’ll put you through.”
Patrick came on the line. “Hello,” he said.
“Patrick,” I said. “Please don’t say anything. It’s Nicholas. I need to talk to you alone,” I said. “And without Gregory knowing.”
“Hold on a minute,” he said. “I’ll go to my office.”
There were some clicks on the line and then Patrick came back on.
“What’s this all about?” he asked quite crossly. “You are due to be here now for a disciplinary meeting.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I won’t be coming to the meeting.”
“Nicholas,” he said formally, “I must insist that you come into the office right now. Where are you?”
Where should I say?
“I’m at home,” I said. “Claudia still isn’t well.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding it. “But this meeting is very important.”
So was Claudia, I thought.
“Where can I speak to you in private?” I asked.
“Here,” he said firmly and loudly. “I will speak to you here, in the office, at the disciplinary meeting.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I will not be coming to the office today.”
“Listen to me,” he said. “If you don’t come into the office today, there seems little point in you coming back at all.” He paused. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Yes,” he said with ill-disguised anger. “You do that.”
He hung up.
I could imagine him going straight back into the meeting room and telling Gregory and Andrew that I wasn’t coming. I was just glad I hadn’t told him the truth about where I was.
I caught the Tube from Moorgate Station but not back to Paddington. Instead I took the Northern Line to Hendon Central, walked down Seymour Way to number 45, and let myself into Herb Kovak’s flat.
Sherri had gone home to America the previous Friday, and there were already a few letters lying on the mat. I picked them up and added them to the pile that she had left on the desk.
I sat down on Herb’s desk chair and opened his mail.
Amongst other things there were some utility bills and a letter from a building society complaining that the direct debit had been canceled and they hadn’t received the preceding month’s interest on Herb’s mortgage. It reminded me of the gym that also hadn’t been paid due to the bank canceling the direct debit. I wondered how many others there would be.
There was so much to deal with, and the worst of it was not the domestic bills, troublesome as they were, it was the never-ending stream of demands from the twenty-two credit card companies. About half of them had sent their next statements, and not only were the previous months’ balances still outstanding, overdue and generating interest but there