Liz Carlyle - 07 - The Geneva Trap Read Online Free PDF

easily.
    Liz found herself describing where she had grown up – Bower Bridge – and realising how much she missed the contryside. Which Sorsky seemed to understand at once – he told her he was from a small village himself, and that however much his professional life lay in the capital these days, his heart was always in the country.
    Liz had warmed to him; so much so that she’d told him how her father had been diagnosed with cancer the year before, and how she had had to spend time at home helping her mother run the estate while her father underwent first chemotherapy then radiotherapy. He seemed better now, she said cheerfully, though inwardly she knew her father’s remission might prove all too temporary. Sorsky had been sympathetic, but tactful too; sensing Liz didn’t want to say much more about her father, he had changed the subject to the seminar he’d addressed. He’d been surprised when she explained she was still an undergraduate, and had asked what she was going to do next.
    ‘I don’t want to be an academic,’ she said firmly.
    ‘Good,’ he said, and waved one hand dismissively, ‘that’s the last thing you should do. You seem very interested in the world – you should do something that makes you part of things.’
    Which was exactly what Liz had been thinking. The problem was, what? He must have seen the doubt in her face for he said, ‘There are lots of opportunities for someone like you – you just need to find them. We need people who think clearly about the world – you could work in business, looking at foreign events and interpreting them. Or do something with the UN, if you want to travel. Or for your own government.’ He was looking at her appraisingly now. ‘The Foreign Office, or perhaps something closer to home. I will be interested to hear what you choose.’
    ‘Or more likely what chooses me,’ said Liz with a laugh, beginning to feel embarrassed that she’d told him so much about herself. She glanced at her watch, ‘I had better get back to my books,’ she said.
    Sorsky stood up. ‘I understand. But perhaps before I go back we could meet again.’ He was watching her face.
    ‘That would be nice,’ said Liz. Would it? Yes, it would; she liked this man.
    ‘Let me give you my phone number – I’m staying in one of the university flats. Perhaps after the Easter break you would ring me, and we could meet again.’
    Liz took the slip of paper and they said goodbye. She couldn’t really make him out. Was he interested in her? It seemed odd to have given her his number, instead of asking for hers. Perhaps that was the Russian way. But she decided she would call him after the break.
    And she almost certainly would have, especially since just two days later a friend happened to show her an advertisement in that day’s Guardian .
     
Are you interested in doing
something completely different?
Something important – even if you can’t crow about it?
Are you decisive, level-headed, logical, and calm in a crisis? Then we might be for you …
     
    Liz had never even remotely contemplated joining the Security Service, since everyone knew MI5 and MI6 were filled with Oxbridge public-school types, and very few women.
    But something in the ad spoke to her, and she wrote off for an application. When the form arrived, she broke off from her last-minute cramming and filled it in. As she licked the stamp and posted the envelope, she realised that if she hadn’t had coffee with Sorsky she would never have answered the ad – You should get a job that makes you part of things.
    But after Easter, while Liz was still at home in Wiltshire, her father took a sudden turn for the worse. She stayed an extra week, trying to study when she wasn’t helping her mother keep him comfortable and making sure that his instructions for the estate were carried out. Only when his illness plateaued did she go back to Bristol where, with only ten days left before her exams began, she revised