no intention of cooling his heels while the doctor took charge. She had no idea why he was in Odessa, why he was after Jason Bourne. He didn't for a minute believe that the patient was anyone but Bourne. A lieutenant general of the Ukrainian secret police here with a knife wound in his side? No chance.
He wasn't going to allow Dr. Pavlyna to fuck things up. The first thing she would tell Bourne was that Lerner had been dispatched from D.C. to find him. That would set off instant alarm bells in Bourne's head. He'd be gone before Lerner could get to him. And this time, he'd be far more difficult to locate.
The immediate problem was that he didn't know where the patient was. He went out the door, accosted the first person he saw, asked where the lieutenant general was being treated. The young woman pointed the way. He thanked her and walked on down the corridor with such concentration that he failed to see her pick up the receiver of an intraclinic phone on the wall, asking to speak to the administrator.
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant General. I'm Dr. Pavlyna," she said the moment she entered the examination room. To the administrator, she added, "This is not our man."
Bourne, sitting on the examination table, saw nothing in her eye to tell him she was lying, but when he saw her glance over at Soraya, he said, "Stay away from my prisoner, Doctor. She's dangerous."
"Please lie back, Lieutenant General." As Bourne complied, Dr. Pavlyna donned surgeon's gloves, slit open Bourne's bloody shirt, and began to peel back the bloody bandage. "Is she the one who gave you the knife wound?"
"Yes," Bourne said.
She palpated around the wound, judging Bourne's pain level. "Whoever sutured you did a first-rate job." She looked into Bourne's eyes. "Unfortunately, you've been a bit too active. I'll have to resuture the part that's torn open."
On cue, the administrator showed her where the paraphernalia was, opening the locked cupboard where the drugs were stored. She selected a box from the second shelf, counted out fourteen pills, wrapped them in a twist of sturdy paper. "Also, I want you to take this. One twice a day for a week. It's a powerful wide-spectrum antibiotic to guard against infection. Please take them all."
Bourne accepted the packet, stowed it away.
Dr. Pavlyna brought a bottle of liquid disinfectant, gauze pads, a needle, and suture material to the table. Then she loaded up a syringe.
"What's that?" Bourne said warily.
"Anesthesia." She inserted the needle into his side, depressed the plunger. Once again, her eyes caught Bourne's. "Don't worry, Lieutenant General, it's just a local. It'll take the pain away but will in no way impair your physical or mental acuity."
As she began the procedure, the phone on the wall burred discreetly. The administrator picked up the receiver and listened for a moment. "All right, I understand. Thank you, Nurse." He put back the receiver.
"Dr. Pavlyna," he said. "It seems your friend couldn't contain his impatience. He's on his way here." He went to the door. "I'll take care of him." Then he slipped out.
"What friend?" Bourne said.
"Nothing to worry about, Lieutenant General," Dr. Pavlyna said. She gave him another significant look. "A friend of yours from headquarters."
On his way to the room where the patient was being treated, Lerner passed three examination rooms. He took the time to peer into each one. Having determined that they were identical, he memorized the layout: where the examining table was, chairs, cabinets, sink... Knowing Bourne's reputation, he didn't think he'd get more than one chance to blow his brains out.
He took out his Glock, screwing the silencer onto the end of the barrel. He would have preferred not to use it, because it cut down on both the range and the accuracy of the gun. But in this environment he didn't have a choice. If he was to accomplish his mission and get out of the building alive, he had to kill Bourne in the quietest way possible. From the moment the DCI had given him his assignment, he knew he'd never be able to torture intel out of him-not in a hostile environment, and possibly not at all. Besides, the best way to take Bourne out was to kill him as quickly and efficiently as possible, giving him no possibility of a counterattack.
At that moment, the administrator rounded the corner up ahead, carrying a disapproving look on his face.
"Excuse me, but you were asked to stay