learned from Fadi-via a scrambled channel piggybacked onto CI's own overseas communications-that he had knifed Bourne. If not dealt with, Lerner could become aware of this, and he'd quite naturally become interested in finding out the identity of who had done it. Alternatively, if he discovered that Bourne had already been killed, he'd want to know who the killer was. Either way, it would lead to dangerous complications.
Pushing back from the table, Karim al-Jamil said, "Have you considered the possibility of Bourne killing Lerner?"
"I brought Lerner aboard because of his rep." The Old Man picked up his cup, saw the that tea had gone cold, set it back down. "They don't make men like him anymore. He's a born killer."
So is Bourne, Karim al-Jamil thought with a bitterness that burned like acid.
Soraya, noticing the drip of fresh blood on the car seat, said, "It looks as if you popped a stitch or two. You're never going to make it without immediate medical attention."
"Forget it," Bourne said. "We both need to get out of here now. The police cordon is only going to draw tighter." He looked around the port. "Besides, where am I going to get medical attention here?"
"The port maintains a Polyclinic."
Soraya drove through Ilyichevsk and parked at the side of a three-story building, next to the late-model Skoda Octavia RS. She was aware of how badly Bourne winced as he got out of the car. "We'd better use the side entrance."
"That's not going to take care of security," he said. Opening up the lining of his coat, he took out a small packet sealed in plastic. Ripping it open, he produced another set of ID documents. He leafed through them briefly, though on the plane ride he'd memorized all the documents Deron had forged for him. "My name is Mykola Petrovich Tuz. I'm a lieutenant general in DZND, the SBU's Department for National Statehood Protection and Combating Terrorism." He came up to her, took her arm. "Here's the drill. You're my prisoner. A Chechnyan terrorist."
"In that case," Soraya said, "I'd better put this cloth over my head."
"No one will even look at you, let alone ask you questions," Bourne said. "They'll be dead afraid of you."
He opened the door and pushed her rudely ahead of him. Almost at once an orderly called for a security guard.
Bourne held out his DZND credentials. "Lieutenant General Tuz," he said brusquely. "I've been knifed, and am in need of a doctor." He saw the guard's eyes slide toward Soraya. "She's my prisoner. A Chechnyan suicide bomber."
The security guard, his face drained of color, nodded. "This way, Lieutenant General."
He spoke into his walkie-talkie, then led them down several corridors into a spare examination room typical of hospital ERs.
He indicated the examination table. "I've contacted the Polyclinic's administrator. Make yourself comfortable, Lieutenant General." Clearly unnerved by both Bourne's status and Soraya's presence, he drew his pistol. Aimed it at Soraya. "Stand over there, so the lieutenant general can be seen to."
Bourne let go of Soraya's arm, giving her an almost imperceptible nod. She went to the corner of the room and sat on a metal-legged chair as the guard tried to keep an eye on her without actually looking at her face.
"A lieutenant general in SBU," the Polyclinic administrator said from behind his desk. "This can't be your man."
"We'll be the judge of that," Matthew Lerner said in passable Russian.
Dr. Pavlyna shot him a wicked look before turning to the administrator. "You did say he's suffering from a knife wound."
The administrator nodded. "That's what I've been told."
Dr. Pavlyna rose. "Then I think I should see him."
"We'll both go," Lerner said. He'd been standing near the door, a kind of invisible electricity coming off him in waves, like a racehorse in the starting gate.
"That wouldn't be wise." The deliberateness with which Dr. Pavlyna said this held significant emphasis for Lerner.
"I agree." The administrator got up and came around his desk. "If the patient really is who he says he is, I'll take the brunt of the breach in protocol."
"Nevertheless," Lerner said. "I'm going to accompany the doctor."
"You'll force me to call security," the administrator said sternly. "The lieutenant general won't know who you are or why you're there. In fact, he could order you held or even shot. I won't have anything like that in my facility."
"Stay here," Dr. Pavlyna said. "I'll call you as soon as I've determined his identity."
Lerner said nothing as Dr. Pavlyna and the administrator left the office, but he had