"Ludlum, Robert - Bourne 01 - The Bourne Identity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ludlum Robert)

'What the hell do you want?'

'Something. Anything'

'You're drunk.'

'We've agreed to that. Consistently. I also saved your bloody life. Drunk or not, I am a doctor. I was once a very good one.'

'What happened?'

'The patient questions the doctor?'

'Why not?'

Washburn paused, looking out of the window at the waterfront. 'I was drunk,' he said. 'They said I killed two patients on the operating table because I was drunk. I could have got away with one. Not two. They see a pattern very quickly, God bless them. Don't ever give a man like me a knife and cloak it in respectability.'

'Was it necessary?'

'Was what necessary?'

'The bottle.'

'Yes, damn you,' said Washburn softly, turning from the window. 'It was and it is. And the patient is not permitted to make judgments where the physician is concerned.'

'Sorry.'

'You also have an annoying habit of apologizing. It's an overworked protestation and not at all natural. I don't for a minute believe you're an apologetic person.'

Then yon know something I don't know,'

About you, yes. A great deal. And very little of it makes sense.'

The man sat forward in the chair. His open shirt fell away from his taut frame, exposing the bandages on his chest and stomach. He folded his hands in front of him, the veins in his slender, muscular arms pronounced. 'Other than the things we've talked about?' 'Yes.'

'Things I said while in coma?"

'No, not really. We've discussed most of that gibberish. The languages, your knowledge of geography - cities I've never or barely heard of - your obsession for avoiding the use of names, names you want to say but won't; your propensity for confrontation - attack, recoil, hide, run - all rather violent, I might add. I frequently strapped your arms down, to protect the wounds. But we've covered all that. There are other things.'

'What do you mean? What are they? Why haven't you told me?'

'Because they're physical. The outer shell, as it were. I wasn't sure you were ready to hear. I'm not sure now.'

The man leaned back in the chair, dark eyebrows below the dark brown hair joined in irritation. 'Now it's the physician's judgment that isn't called for. I'm ready. What are you talking about?'

'Shall we begin with that rather acceptable looking head of yours? The face, in particular.'

'What about it?'

'It's not the one you were born with.'