it to two squares of sterile gauze, placed the gauze over the entrance and exit wounds, then expertly wrapped the whole in surgical tape. "Seen much worse in my day," he said. "The only problem now is to make sure he rests and gets some fluids in him as soon as possible. He's lost a lot of blood, though not nearly as much as if he didn't have the tourniquet on."
Finished, he looked up from his patient to see Bourne. "You sure look like crap, whatever-the-hell-your-name-is."
"Professor, I need to ask you a question."
The old man snorted. "Is that all you do, son, ask questions?" He put a hand on the arm of Marks's chair and levered himself up to a standing position. "Well, you can ask me anything you like, doesn't mean I'll answer you."
Bourne stood as well. "Did Tracy have a brother?"
"What?"
Chrissie frowned. "Adam, I already told you that Tracy was my only - "
Bourne held up his hand. "I'm not asking your father whether you and your sister had a brother. I'm asking if Tracy had a brother."
A malevolent expression gathered on Professor Atherton's face. "Bugger'n'blast, son, in days gone by I'd've boxed your ears for saying something so bloody-minded."
"You didn't answer the question. Did Tracy have a brother?"
The professor's expression darkened further. "You mean a half brother."
Chrissie took a step toward the two men, who were now faced off like street fighters about to settle a grudge. "Adam, why are you - ?"
"Don't get all gutted up over nothing." Her father waved away her protest. And then to Bourne: "You're asking me if I had sexual relations with another woman and something came of it?"
"That's right."
"Never did," Professor Atherton said. "I loved the girls' mother and I've been faithful to her for longer than I care to remember." He shook his head. "I think you've made rather a hash of this."
Bourne was unfazed. "Tracy worked for a dangerous man. I had to ask myself why because it seemed doubtful that she would work for him willingly. Then Chrissie provided a partial answer. Tracy told this man she had a brother who was in trouble."
At once Professor Atherton's demeanor altered radically. All color drained out of his face; he might have fallen if Chrissie hadn't stepped to his side to support him. With some difficulty she got him to sit down in the chair opposite Marks.
"Dad?" She knelt beside him, his clammy hand in hers. "What is this? Is there a brother I don't know about?"
The old man kept shaking his head. "I had no idea she knew," he mumbled as if to himself. "How the bloody hell did she find out?"
"So it's true." Chrissie shot Bourne a glance, then redirected her attention to her father. "Why didn't you and Mum tell us?"
Professor Atherton sighed deeply, then passed a hand across his sweating brow. He looked at his daughter blankly, as if he didn't recognize her, or he was expecting to see someone else.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But you must." She seemed to rise up, stiffening her spine, and she leaned in toward him as if to lend her words more weight. "You have no choice now, Dad. You have to tell me about him."
Her father remained silent, impassive now, as if free of a fever that had gripped him.
"What's his name?" she implored. "Can't you tell me that much?"
Her father's eyes would not meet hers. "He had no name."
Chrissie sat back, as if he had slapped her across the face. "I don't understand."
"And why would you?" Professor Atherton said. "Your brother was born dead."
Chapter Twenty-Three
JALAL ESSAI WAS a marked man and he knew it. As he sat on a bridge chair he'd opened up in his darkened bedroom, he considered these factors: Breaking with Severus Domna had not been an easy decision - or rather, while the decision had been easy, the actual implementation had been difficult. But then it was always difficult, Essai thought, deliberately putting oneself in harm's way. He had not acted on his decision until he had worked out the methods of implementation, drawing up a list in his mind of all the possible paths he could take, then eliminating them one by one until he reached the one with the fewest objections, the most acceptable level of risk, and the best odds of success. This methodical approach was how he arrived at every decision: The process was the most logical. Also, it had the added benefit of calming his