There is a thing that happens to surgeons in a crisis that I have never been able to explain to anyone who isn't one.
The fear arrives. It arrives completely — I felt it come up my back and open across my scalp in the dark of that kitchen, and my hands went cold, and every animal part of me said out, out, out.
And then it goes into a drawer, and the drawer closes, and you get on with it.
I did not call Bekele's man. I have thought about why. The honest answer is that I had spent nine days being handled by people with better information than me, and there was somebody upstairs in my house who was about to be, for the first time, the person with less.
I took the boning knife out of the block. Then I put it back, because I am not an i***t and because whatever was up there, walking into it
