He felt a stab of regret as he said these words. Gabrielle’s probing questions brought back a flood of memories and endless speculations about what could have been.
‘Was that what led to the break-up?’
‘What?’
‘Children – or rather the lack of them. Were you a George and Martha couple?’
‘Not by choice.’
‘That’s what I mean. Neither were the original George and Martha. But the difference is that they both wanted children. Not having them was a source of mutual frustration and regret. I don’t think it was like that with Charlotte.’
‘Maybe I was the one who didn’t want kids?’
‘Are you pulling my leg? I’ve heard you talking about those camping trips with your nephews and impressing your nieces with magic tricks. I think I can read between the lines. You’ve got it in you to be a great father. Was that what set you apart? You regretted not having children: she was quite happy that way.’
‘That might have been part of it, but the real problem was that I could never fulfil her sense of ambition.’
‘That’s bullshit. You’re academically ambitious.’
‘Well, thanks for that vote of confidence. But Charlotte thought ambition was something I lacked.’
‘What planet was she living on?’
‘I guess it’s a question of how you define success, not how you measure it.’
‘Are we talking academic success or social success?’
‘Both. Charlotte measured success by how high you rise through the relevant hierarchy.’
‘Is there another way?’
‘I prefer to live by the motto of my old grammar school: “ Rather use than fame ”.’
‘ Rather use than fame? That’s kind of clever.’
‘It was the quality of my ambition rather than the quantity that set me apart from Charlotte.’
‘Now why don’t I believe that?’ asked Gabrielle, rolling over on to her back and looking up at the stars.
‘You tell me… Miss Sceptic.’
‘The fact that you had virtually nothing in common. It wasn’t just your ambition. It was everything. You love the academic life. She liked the high life. Your world is the ivory tower. Hers was the salon. You’re at your happiest when you’re pushing forward the frontiers of knowledge and driving back the boundaries of ignorance. I got the impression that Charlotte was never happy except when she was shopping at Harrods or Bloomingdales.’
‘You’re making it sound as if she was spend, spend, spend and I’m all work and no play.’
‘No, you know how to enjoy yourself. But you find pleasure in doing interesting things. I remember once seeing you teaching your nephews how to make a radio out of household items, using information you downloaded from the Internet.’
Daniel was thinking about this. Gabrielle’s assessment had been remarkably incisive. He got his pleasure from the simple things in life and that was something that Charlotte never understood.
‘I guess it was the perennial conflict between the two modes of living: the Having Mode and the Doing Mode. Charlotte found happiness in luxury possessions and the company of well-bred but shallow people.’
There was silence for a while. Then Gabrielle turned back to Daniel and quietly said one word: ‘Sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘I didn’t mean to open up an old wound.’
Daniel was silent for a while. Finally he spoke.
‘You know what the irony is? It was at a university function that we first met.’
‘What sort of function?’
‘I think one of her friends had made a big donation and was unveiling a plaque.’
‘So it was one of those awkward meeting points between academia and philanthropy, when scholarship and mammon pay mutual homage to one another, with a mixture of envy and guilt.’
‘You really are a cynic, aren’t you, Gaby?’ he said with a smile.
But she didn’t answer. Sleep had finally engulfed her.
Gabrielle looked around her. They were closing in on her… closing in on all sides. The tracks, the scoop, the rumbling sound.
Bulldozers!
The bulldozers were closing in on her: north, south, east and west…
They had all points of the compass covered.
There was nowhere to run. It was too late. She was going to die. She was going to die today: crushed by these bulldozers that surrounded her.
‘No!’ she screamed.
It was dark. She was in a cold sweat. She looked around struggling to gain her bearings.
Daniel too was awake and staring at her.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘I guess. I think I was having a bad dream.’
Chapter 62
‘I’m telling you she’s dangerous.’
The professor had asked to meet Senator Morris in private. The senator had been unsure why but had agreed to fit this meeting into his busy schedule.
‘Why? She’s always supported us in the past.’
‘Never without voicing dissent.’
‘She’s cautious; that’s just her nature. But she’s always supported us. She just tempers her loyalty with caution – that’s what women do.’
‘There are too many things going wrong for Goliath. First at the hospital when he didn’t get the clothing sample from that boy, and then he botched the attempt to get the clothes from Klein and Gusack and they even got out alive.’
‘What are you saying? That she’s making things go wrong from thousands of miles away?’
‘I think she may have told someone.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said the senator. ‘The boy from the dig died of the plague and Goliath drew attention to himself at the hospital by talking to a nurse. He might not have got the clothes anyway. They probably had them incinerated as a precaution.’
‘And what about the gasoline bomb attack on Goliath in the jeep?’
‘Could it be the work of Islamic terrorists?’
‘I thought you said the embassy told you that a Western woman had been arrested for the attack?’
‘That’s right, an Irish woman. And I’ve since been told that she escaped.’
‘Well, that doesn’t sound much like an Islamic terrorist to me.’
‘The IRA worked with the Libyans. Maybe they’re doing the same for the Muslim Brotherhood – possibly in return for being allowed to train in the al-Qaeda camps in Afghanistan and Pakistan.’
‘I thought the IRA had given up on terrorism.’
‘There’s always fringe movements and breakaway factions.’
‘Why would they hire a woman from a fringe faction of the IRA to do their dirty work? Instead of using a local who knows the terrain?’
‘Perhaps because she’d be less likely to arouse suspicion.’
‘But why would they target a foreigner driving peacefully on the road at night?’
‘To harm the tourist industry?’ the senator suggested. ‘To damage the regime perhaps?’
‘If they wanted to damage the tourist trade they’d do something more spectacular than attack one man in a car. They’d plant a bomb at a hotel or something.’
The senator realized that the professor’s rationale made sense. It was suspicious that a young Irish woman
