Chameleon

FOURTEEN

'I'm sorry. She's lost the baby,' said Phillip Morton who had been called in to examine Sue.

Jamieson nodded and looked away. He had no wish to look anyone in the eye when he felt this vulnerable. In his heart he had known what Morton was going to say. He had known from the moment that he had heard someone say that Sue was bleeding. He had only been semi-conscious at the time and lying on a trolley being wheeled into A amp;E, but snatches of conversation had drifted through to him. Hearing was always the last thing to go and the first to come back.

Now that his pain was under control and his arm had been cleaned up and stitched he had been sitting waiting with Clive Evans who had volunteered to keep him company until Morton had completed his examination of Sue. Despite fearing the worst, he had been clinging to a wisp of hope that it had all been some kind of misunderstanding on his part and that everything was going to be all right. Morton snuffed out the candle of hope and Jamieson felt his shoulders sag and his limbs start to feel very heavy.

'I'm sorry,' said Evans, putting his hand on Jamieson's shoulder.

'Bad luck,' said Morton. 'But she's young and strong and there's no reason why…'

Jamieson had stopped listening. He knew the routine. He just wanted to be with Sue. 'I'd like to see her now,' he said.

'Of course,' said Morton and stood back to allow Jamieson to pass.

Jamieson opened the door with his left hand; his right arm was bound up in a sling. Sue was lying motionless on the bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

'Hi,' said Jamieson softly. 'How are you feeling?' The words turned to acid in his mouth. He knew exactly how she was feeling but he had to start somewhere and beginnings demanded words.

Sue continued to stare at the ceiling as if she hadn't heard and then Jamieson saw a tear start to roll down her cheek. She turned her head to look at him. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I'm so sorry.'

'You idiot!' whispered Jamieson taking her hand in his, 'You are all that matters. Nothing else.'

'But you wanted the baby so much,' said Sue, the tears now flowing freely.

'There will be others. We've got all the time in the world. Right now you are all that is important. God! I was so relieved to find you alive… I can't begin to tell you how worried I was. I was going out of my mind…'

Sue put a hand up to his lips and whispered, 'I know, I know.'

They held each other in silence for a moment, happy that the need for words had been overcome and they were truly together again. Sue said, 'I can't seem to stop thinking about what would have happened if you had driven up to the garage instead of walking. I just go through it over and over again. It's a nightmare I just can't seem to escape from. Why did you stop down the road from the garage? What made you do that?'

Jamieson stroked her hair. 'You can thank a traffic jam for that. It gave me time to think.'

'Tell me,' said Sue.

Jamieson told her about his initial panic stricken dash to what had turned out to be the wrong address and then how he had started to consider the motives behind the phone call, including the possibility of a cruel hoax. 'So I stopped at the phone box round the corner from the garages and called the hospital to check if you were still there. Evans told me that you had gone into town earlier so I asked him to call the police. When I came out of the phone box I was so close to the lane that I left the car where it was and ran round on foot.'

'Thank God,' said Sue.

'I'll second that,' said Jamieson.

'Scott?'

'Yes?'

'What did the man say on the phone?'

'A lot of sick nonsense.'

'What exactly?' asked Sue.

Jamieson told her.

'That was untrue you know?'

Jamieson squeezed her shoulder.

'I don't want you thinking that I lost the baby because of anything he did to me like that. He didn't touch me in that way. I think I lost the baby because he just scared me so much. It sounds silly now that you're here and I'm all safe and warm but at the time

… I thought he was the killer, the man who cut up all these women. I never knew I could be so frightened.'

Jamieson soothed Sue as she started to shake again. When she had calmed down he said softly, 'Clive tells me that the police are waiting downstairs to talk to you if you feel up to it.'

Sue made a face.

'If you can't face it tonight I can tell them that but the sooner they get on with catching that lunatic the better, so anything you can tell them…'

'Can you stay with me?'

'We could make that a condition,' said Jamieson.

'All right. I'll see them now. Correction, we'll see them now.'

Jamieson left the room to tell the Staff Nurse in charge of the ward that Sue had agreed to talk to the police provided that he was allowed to stay with her. He waited in the duty room until the two police officers came up the stairs and introduced themselves to him. He was pleased to find that they both seemed decent, sympathetic individuals but he still felt he should remind them of what Sue had been through.

'We do understand sir,' said the inspector. 'We'll be as brief as we possibly can.'

Sue told the police about the man in the store and the subsequent train of events.

'You say that he said he wanted revenge?' asked the inspector.

'That's what he said.'

'But he didn't say for what or give any indication?'

'No.'

'And you say you have never seen this man before?'

'No. Apart from on the bus down.'

The policemen looked at each other. 'The bus down?' asked the inspector.

'Yes, he was on the same bus into town. He got off where I did.' said Sue as if this had been an irrelevant detail.

'You didn't say anything about that earlier,' said Jamieson.

'Didn't I? Sorry.'

Mrs Jamieson, this is very important. Did you happen to notice where this man got on the bus?' asked the inspector.

Sue shook her head and apologised. 'No, I didn't.'

'Did you look out the bus window on the way into town Mrs Jamieson?'

'Yes I did.'

'But you don't recall seeing this man get on the bus?'

'No.'

'Is it possible that he was on the bus when you got on?'

'But I got on here at the hospital,' said Sue. 'It's the terminus.'

'So it is,' agreed the policeman. 'Were there any people sitting on the bus when you got on?'

'Quite a few.'

'Is it possible that he was among them?'

'I suppose so,' said Sue. 'I didn't pay much attention to the people sitting inside when I got on. I just went straight upstairs.'

'Thank you Mrs Jamieson.

Jamieson saw what the police had been getting at. The man had not just suddenly appeared at the store down town. He had followed Sue and what was more, it seemed likely that he had done so from the hospital.

'There's something else,' said Sue.

'Go on Mrs Jamieson.'

'He was wearing a disguise,' said Sue.

'A disguise?'

'His hair was a wig. I saw that when he was close to me at the garage and his moustache was false. It had started to come adrift at one of the corners.'

The inspector continued his recap. 'He was a large man, heavily built.'

Sue nodded.

'If you forget about the hair and the moustache can you think of any man you've come across recently who has that build?'

Sue shook her head and said, 'I've been thinking about that a lot but no, I can't think of anyone. I hardly know anyone in this city!' she added.

'And you sir?' the policeman asked Jamieson. 'Does that description mean anything to you?'

'Not off-hand.' said Jamieson with a shake of the head.

'Strange,' said the inspector. 'It's pretty clear this man was not our celebrated ripper. He wasn't too interested in your wife at all, apart from using her as a tool to get at you. For some reason he wanted to get at you very badly sir. Can you think why anyone should feel that way?'

'No Inspector. I can't.'

Phillip Morton came in to the room and insisted that the interview come to an end. Sue had to be allowed to sleep. The policemen didn't argue. They thanked Sue and Jamieson for their co-operation and left. Jamieson had a few moments alone with Sue before he too left the room and returned to the residency with Clive Evans.

'You look as if you could do with a drink,' said Evans.

'I could do with ten,' replied Jamieson.

'We could go out?'

Jamieson did not take much persuasion. 'Good idea,' he said.

Jamieson had downed two large whiskies before he noticed that Evans was drinking only orange juice. 'You don't drink?' he asked.

'Nothing stronger than this,' replied Evans tapping his glass, a legacy of Chapel days in the valleys.

Jamieson smiled. 'Very wise.' He drained his own glass.

'Let me get you another,' said Evans.

'Not if you're not drinking,' protested Jamieson but Evans ordered a whisky for him anyway. 'You have had one hell of a day. Call it medicinal. Half our patients do.'

Jamieson accepted the drink and admitted to himself that the whisky was doing him good. He had been under almost unbearable stress for the past few hours and now, for the first time, he felt himself start to relax.

'What are your plans now?' asked Evans.

'When Sue feels better we'll go back to Kent and have some time off together. Ideally, I'd like to take her away on holiday somewhere. We'll see. Either way we should be gone by the end of the week and I can't say I'll be sorry to see the back of this place.'

'The hospital or the city?'

'Both.'

'I can understand that,' said Evans. 'You have not had the easiest of times.'

'None of us have in this mess.'

'Well, it's over now,' said Evans.

'Thank God,' said Jamieson. 'Damn, I meant to check on the re-sterilising of the instruments and dressings from Gynaecology.'

'It's all right, I did it. Every single item has been autoclaved and returned under fresh seal.'

'Thanks,' said Jamieson. 'I wish you would let me buy you a drink.'

'You can send me some strawberries from Kent when the season arrives,' said Evans.

'That's a promise.'

Surgery recommenced in the Gynaecology Department of Kerr Memorial on Wednesday with a full operating schedule designed to make inroads into the waiting list. There were no post-operative problems at the end of the day or on the following two days and by the time Jamieson and Sue came to leave the hospital on Saturday morning everything seemed to be back to normal. Hugh Crichton saw them off and wished them well and, holding a document case over his head with one hand to protect his skull from the rain, he held the driver's door open for Sue to get in. Jamieson's arm, although out of the sling, had not recovered sufficiently for him to undertake the strain of a long drive.

Jamieson looked back as they drove through the hospital gates and then looked at Sue. 'Feel good to be going?' he asked.

'Do you really need an answer to that,' said Sue.

As they sped south on the motorway Sue said, 'Have you had any more thoughts about the man in the wig?'

'A lot of thoughts but no answers,' replied Jamieson. 'You?'

Sue paused while she concentrated on finding a suitable moment to pull out and overtake the lorry in front. When they were safely past she said, 'I think he was homosexual.'

'What makes you say that?'

'He put his hand up my skirt at one point.'

'And that makes him homosexual?'

'He did it to frighten me — and he did — but I could see from the look in his eyes that he got no kick out of it. He could have been twisting my wrist.'

'Maybe you should tell the police that.'

'It's not exactly evidence is it? And maybe it's not even important. It doesn't help to explain why he hates you or why he wanted to hurt you so badly.'

'I suppose not.'

'Does it worry you?'

'Of course,' said Jamieson. 'Particularly because I don't understand it. I can't imagine what I could possibly have done to make someone feel that way about me and yet, someone obviously does.'

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes then Sue asked, 'When will you go to see the Sci-Med people?'

'I'll go into London on Monday if that's all right with you? The sooner I make my report the better.'

'Of course.'

It continued to rain on Sunday but it did not prevent Jamieson and Sue from having their planned walk. They put on waterproofs and Wellingtons and enjoyed the smell of wet leaves as they walked along the lanes, arms wound round each other. They timed it so that they would be in the village of Bridge around lunch time and so would have time to enjoy a meal at their favourite pub. But despite their almost exaggerated attempts to restore normality to their lives it was becoming apparent to both of them that it was something that was going to take time. The nightmare of Kerr Memorial Hospital was not going to fade away readily.

Their conversation, once punctuated by comfortable silences was now the subject of awkward ones, when one of them knew that the other had strayed off to brood on some happening of the past few weeks. At one point Jamieson had to admit that thoughts of the man who had abducted Sue were haunting him. 'You know what worries me most,' he said. 'It's the fact that the reason this man hates me so much must be in some way tied up with the events at the hospital. I hardly met anyone at all outside the hospital apart from a couple of Italian waiters when I went out to eat — and the tip wasn't that bad.'

Sue smiled at Jamieson's attempt to lighten the conversation but she persisted. 'But surely no one could possible blame you for the deaths at the hospital,' said Sue.

'I hope not,' said Jamieson. 'But maybe someone thinks I should have been able to do more. I should have been able to clear the matter up sooner and they blame me for the death of their wife or daughter?'

'Doesn't sound plausible,' said Sue, shaking her head decisively and Jamieson had to agree.

'You don't think he might still try to get at you do you?' asked Sue with a worried note in her voice.

'No, of course not,' said Jamieson. He met Sue's gaze and saw an accusation in her eyes. 'All right,' he said. 'The truth is I have no idea; he may do; there's no way of predicting anything unless we know what lies behind it.'

'That's more like it,' said Sue. 'Don't bullshit me.'

'Dr Jamieson is here for his debriefing,' said Miss Roberts into the machine at her elbow. A disembodied voice replied, 'Send him up.'

'Jackson will show you the way,' said Miss Roberts.

'It's all right, I remember,' said Jamieson turning to head for the lift.

'No, that's not allowed,' said Miss Roberts, loudly at first to stop Jamieson and then more apologetically, 'Visitors must be accompanied at all times in the ministry. It's a rule.'

Jamieson acceded with a smile and waited for the uniformed man to escort him. They exchanged pleasantries about the weather in the lift and Jamieson learned that Mr Jackson had spent his summer holiday in Torquay. The weather had been 'mixed'.

'Good to see you,' said Macmillan when Jamieson entered the room.

Jamieson shook hands with him, using his left hand and did the same with Drs Armour and Foreman.

'I haven't done that since I was in the Boy Scouts,' joked Armour.

'You had a bit of a rough time up north I understand,' said Macmillan.

'My wife had a rougher one,' said Jamieson.

'Bad business,' said Foreman and the other two concurred with nods and sympathy.

'Still no idea why he wanted to get at you?' asked Foreman.

'No, but my feeling is that it had something to do with the affair at the hospital. It must have done.'

'Why?' asked Armour.

'Apart from the fact that I hardly met anyone outside the hospital during my stay up there I think that there was more to the infection problem than I managed to find out. There were lots of loose ends that I didn't manage to tie up. I suspect some of them were quite important.'

'But the circumstantial evidence against the man Thelwell was as strong as we could have hoped for,' said Macmillan.

'I agree,' said Jamieson. 'But I still worry.'

Macmillan gave a wry smile and said, 'We have to be pragmatic about it I'm afraid. If the infection problem at Kerr Memorial has been cleared up our job is dome and that's an end to it.'

Armour said, 'Perhaps I might just add that there has been no new murder in the city in the last ten days,' said Foreman. 'It may be a little premature but it's looking good.

'I agree,' said Armour. 'We may never know the whole story but if both problems have died with this man Thelwell then that must be good enough for all of us.'

'Very good sir,' said Jamieson.

Macmillan got to his feet and Jamieson took this as his cue to do likewise. 'I'm sorry your first assignment for Sci-Med has turned out to be so demanding and traumatic for you Doctor, you must have a little break before we think about asking you to help us with anything else.'

'A little time alone with my wife would be nice,' replied Jamieson. 'We haven't seen much of each other over the past few weeks.'

'Of course,' said Macmillan. 'By the way,' He held out a brown envelope. 'This is the lab report you asked for from the Sci-Med lab. You had left Leeds before we could get it to you.'

Jamieson was puzzled. He said, 'I only asked for one lab report and I got that.' He took the report out of the open envelope, one handed, and read it. It was an analytical report on the Staphylococcus that had caused the second outbreak of post-operative infection at Kerr Memorial. 'Strange,' he muttered. 'I don't remember asking for this.' He looked at the photo-copy of the request that was stapled to the report and saw who had. It was signed M. Lippman, pp Dr S. Jamieson. Moira Lippman had sent cultures of the organism and made the request.

'Mystery cleared up?' asked Armour.

'Yes, thank you,' said Jamieson, still puzzled but not wanting to discuss it further. He put the report in his pocket.

'We'll be in touch,' said Macmillan.

Jamieson had more than two hours to wait for a train that would stop at Bekesbourne Halt, the tiny station within a mile of his home at Patrixbourne. He didn't mind because he was in no hurry and it gave him time to consider why Moira Lippman had made the request to the Sci-Med lab. Had she just been anticipating that he himself would want such an analysis? After all he had sent the Pseudomonas there, or did she have a good reason of her own? Something to do with what she had found out? Jamieson found the notion exciting but there was no point in trying to decipher the report in his pocket in the dirt and damp of a railway station. He would wait until he was at home and had all his reference books to hand.

The train bound for Dover stopped at Bekesbourne Halt and waited briefly while Jamieson got off along with two women who had obviously been on a shopping expedition to London. The women were weighed down with plastic carrier bags but seemed in remarkably good spirits as Jamieson followed them slowly down the stairs to the road outside. They headed off towards Bekesbourne while he turned right and walked up the road past a hop garden to Patrixbourne.

'How did it go?' asked Sue.

'All right. They're happy as long as the infection problem is over.'

'As you said yourself, it's a matter of priorities,' said Sue.

'What have you been doing with yourself?' asked Jamieson.

'Cleaning!' said Sue. 'We've been away so long that the house is filthy.'

'You shouldn't be doing that just yet,' said Jamieson softly. 'It's too soon after…'

Sue stiffened as he touched her and half turned away. 'It's over and done with and I'm fine,' she said in a tone that brooked no further discussion. She turned and walked through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. 'Why didn't you tell me the police were watching the house?'

Jamieson was taken aback. He considered pretending that he did not know what she was talking about but capitulated first. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I suppose I didn't want to alarm you. I just thought it might be a good idea if someone kept an eye on you today when I was away in London and you were here on your own. I arranged it through Sci-Med.'

'Next time tell me,' said Sue sharply. 'Agreed?'

'Agreed,' said Jamieson sheepishly.

'If that man at the end of the lane this morning had not looked so much like a policeman I might have thought he was… someone else entirely.'

'Oh God, I didn't even consider that,' said Jamieson. 'I'm so sorry. It was thoughtless of me.'

Sue dropped the teaspoon she had been holding and put her hand up to her face.

Jamieson came up behind her and put his arm around her. He sensed that Sue was still under great strain.

Sue recovered quickly and continued with the coffee. 'Tell me all about today,' she said as she led the way back to the living room, carrying the coffee cups on a tray.

'There was one strange thing,' said Jamieson. He told Sue about Moira Lippman's request for a Sci-Med analysis.

'And she didn't say anything to you?' said Sue

'She used my name but she never mentioned it.'

'What did the report say?'

'I brought it home with me. I'll have to work on it.'

'Does this mean you're going to spend the evening upstairs?' asked Sue.

'A little while,' said Jamieson. He kissed her hair. 'Won't be too long. I promise.'

Jamieson paused to look out of the study window at the willow tree in the garden. He always thought that it looked best at dusk, its branches drooping to touch the lawn as if weary from a long day’s work. The trees on the far side of the cricket field were silhouetted against the evening sky. Jamieson drew the curtains, switched on the desk lamp and sat down.

Moira Lippman had asked for a full biochemical analysis on the Staphylococcus organism and this had been carried out by the Sci-Med people. Some of the tests had been duplicated for they had already been done at Kerr Memorial by Moira herself. A summary of the results said that the bug was a coagulase positive Staphylococcus, highly pathogenic to man and resistant to many of the branded therapeutic agents tested. If it had not been for the fact that Moira Lippman had remembered about the Loromycin trial and the fact that the drug had subsequently been found to be effective against the bug, as many as two dozen women at Kerr Memorial might have died. Unfortunately for two of them, Loromycin treatment had come along too late to save them. Ironically, one had been Moira's sister in law.

Jamieson read through the list of biochemical results and decided that he needed help in deciphering what they all meant. He got down his copy of 'Bergey's Manual of Determinative Bacteriology' from the shelf above the desk and looked up Staphylococcus in the index. It had been a while since the book had been opened. It had collected a thick film of dust along its top. Jamieson blew as much of it away as possible before opening it at the index. He turned to the tables giving the information he needed and copied out the normal values for the biochemical tests listed in the report.

As he compared them with the results from the Sci-Med lab he began to see discrepancies and by the time he had finished he had discovered that four of the lab results did not agree with Bergey's idea of how a standard Staphylococcus should behave.

'Just like the Pseudomonas,' muttered Jamieson remembering that the same situation had arisen with that organism. Is this what Moira Lippman had wanted to talk about? What did it mean?

'Scott! It's half past ten,' came Sue's voice from downstairs. 'You promised!'

Jamieson automatically looked at his watch. He hadn't realised how time had been passing. 'Coming,' he replied. He closed the book slowly and put it back up on its shelf. The report was telling him something. He couldn't quite put his finger on it yet but it had to have something to do with this constant variation of the bugs from text book values. As he cleared his notes away he decided that he would have to give the matter some more thought. For the moment, it could wait.

Eight days passed before Jamieson heard from Sci-Med again. Sue and he had been out for the evening and the telephone was ringing when they got back to the cottage just after eleven.

'Jamieson here.'

'Ah, got you at last. Macmillan here.'

Jamieson looked at the clock on the wall. If Macmillan were calling him at this time something must be wrong.

'Trouble I'm afraid,' said Macmillan.

Jamieson experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had come to know that when the smooth velvety tones of the establishment actually used words like 'trouble' it almost invariably meant something a good deal worse.

'What's happened?'

'There's been another outbreak of post-operative infection at Kerr Memorial. In gynaecology again.'

Jamieson closed his eyes as the words drilled through him destroying all the good effects of the evening. He felt the energy drain from him as if a tap had been opened. 'Go on,' he said. The words were hoarse; he had to clear his throat before he could say any more.

'It's bad I'm afraid. Eight women are affected.'

'And the cause?'

'The bug hasn't been identified yet but Phillip Morton with some impromptu detective work has narrowed the possibilities down to a batch of saline drip packs. The lab is analysing them right now.

'I'll get back up there,' said Jamieson. 'In the meantime there's something I'd like you to organise with the Sci-Med lab.'

'Go on.'

'I want them to get their hands on as many unauthorised antibiotics as possible.'

'Unauthorised?' exclaimed Macmillan.

'Yes, drugs that the pharmaceutical companies have not yet got a license for.'

'But why?'

'I think we can expect that there will be a treatment problem with this outbreak just like last time and the time before. The bug will be immune to standard drug treatment. If it's the Staphylococcus we can use Loromycin again but if it's the Pseudomonas we still have a problem unless your people have come up with anything in the meantime?

'Not that I've heard,' said Macmillan. 'I think we rather thought that it was all over.'

I'd like the Sci-Med lab to test both bugs against drugs that haven't been commercially available before. There's a chance some of them may be effective, just like Loromycin turned out to be. We'll be taking a risk using unlicensed antibiotics and you'll have to square it with the authorities but I think the circumstances warrant it.'

'Good thinking,' said Macmillan. 'I'll tell them.' Macmillan paused before saying, 'Look here, if you feel that you'd rather not get involved again… I mean with your wife and all that, we'll quite understand here at Sci-Med.'

'I'll be returning to Leeds in the morning,' said Jamieson curtly.

Sue was standing looking at him when he put the phone down. 'I heard the last bit,' she said quietly.

'It's not over yet at Kerr Memorial. I have to see it through Sue. I can't leave it like this.'

'I understand,' said Sue. 'What's happened?'

Jamieson told her.

'But how?'

Jamieson shook his head and said, 'I don't know but I am going to find out if it's the last thing I do.'

Sue saw the look on Jamieson's face. She simply said, 'Of course.'

'I think it might be best if you were to go stay with your parents for a few days,' said Jamieson.

'No.' said Sue flatly.

'What?'

'I said no. I'm coming with you.'

'This is crazy! I mean after what you went through last time…'

'Stop treating me like the little woman, will you! I'm not an object you hide in a cupboard, I'm your wife! It's our problem not just yours. I'm coming.'

It was Jamieson's turn to concede that there was no room for argument.

There was a small crowd of people at the gates of Kerr Memorial when Jamieson and Sue arrived at around eleven the following morning. Jamieson could see that some of them were carrying cameras and had the look of the Press about them.

'Looks like it's really hit the fan this time,' he said as they waited for the gateman to come over and inspect his ID card.

'I thought you'd left sir?'

'So did I.'

The gateman moved the crowd back with difficulty and opened the gate so that Jamieson could proceed. Sue felt uncomfortable with so many people looking in at her through the window. She felt like an inanimate object in a glass case and said so.

'We'd better let Crichton know that we've arrived,' said Jamieson as he brought the car to a halt outside the administrative block.

'I'll wait,' said Sue.

Jamieson got out of the car and swung the door shut with one hand before running up the steps of the main office building two at a time. His feet squeaked on the newly polished linoleum as he made his way along the corridor to Crichton's office and knocked on the door.

'Who is it?' came the voice from inside. There was a slight note of surprise in the voice and Jamieson knew that this was because he had short circuited the receptionist and secretary to come to the side door of Crichton's office.

'Jamieson,' he replied, looking round the door. 'I just popped in to say that I'm back.'

Crichton indicated that he should come in and sit down and then returned to his telephone conversation.

'I'm sorry we have no further comment to make at this time,' said Crichton. 'No nothing!' He put the phone down and rapped his fingers on the desk in frustration.

'Problems?'

Crichton raised his eyes and said, 'I'll say. One woman has died so far in this latest outbreak and three more are gravely ill. The newspapers have got hold of it and are howling for someone to blame. The Conservative group on the council are blaming bad management for falling standards of hygiene in the hospital. The Labour group are blaming Government cuts and understaffing for the problem. Either way this office seems to be the front line.'

'Has the lab report on the saline come through yet?'

'Yes, half an hour ago.'

'Is it the Pseudomonas or the Staphylococcus this time?' asked Jamieson.

'Neither,' replied Crichton.

'I don't understand,’ said Jamieson.

'I'm not sure I do either,' said Crichton adopting a pained expression. 'But the lab says that once again it is an entirely different organism.'

'A third bug!' exclaimed Jamieson. 'This is getting absolutely ridiculous.'

'The outside world agrees — and by the way, the outside world is baying at the gates…'

'I saw them on the way in,' said Jamieson.

'To them, the hospital is a cesspool of infection and we, the staff, are all doing our best to cover it up.'

'Surgery in Gynaecology has been halted?'

'Of course.'

Crichton's telephone rang again and Jamieson got to his feet to leave. 'See you later,' he whispered as Crichton picked up the receiver.

Jamieson and Sue settled in to their old room in the residency. They didn't say much for both were feeling depressed at being back. There was a knock on the door and Jamieson opened it to find Clive Evans standing there.

'I saw your car,' said Evans, scratching his head as he came in.

'So it has started all over again?' said Jamieson.

''Fraid so and worse than ever.'

'Any ideas?'

'We know that the saline drip bottles were the source of the outbreak this time. Mr Morton worked that out and thank God he did before even more women were infected.'

'Crichton tells me that it's yet another bug?'

'That's right. It's a Proteus this time and…'

'Don't tell me. It's resistant to antibiotics just like the other two organisms?'

'I'm afraid so,' agreed Evans.

'Antibiotic synergism tests?'

'They are under way. Nothing yet.'

'Get some off to Sci-Med will you. They are going to work on it too.'

'Very well.'

'Have you had full biochemistry done on the bug?' asked Jamieson.

'Not yet. There hasn't been time.'

'Sci-Med will do that too. Get the bug to them as quickly as possible and then we can have a look at all three reports.'

'Three?' asked Evans.

'Oh yes I didn't tell you. Moira Lippman had the Staphylococcus analysed by the Sci-Med lab. I think that that's what she wanted to speak to us about before she died.'

'Really?' said Evans. 'What did the report say?'

'There are several discrepancies between the actual report and how the book says a Staphylococcus should behave just like there was in the case of the other bug.'

'Did your people have any comment to make about that?' asked Evans.

'I haven't asked them yet. I was lulled into believing that this business was over. But if we get the same sort of report this time there must be something in it. Something we have been missing.'

'If you like I could drive over to the county lab and ask them to carry out the tests on the latest bug? It might be quicker.' said Evans. 'We'd save a day.'

'Good idea,' said Jamieson. 'But do both. I want Sci-Med to work on the treatment angle. I'm going to be busy here tracing the history of that batch of saline and trying to find out how it got contaminated. Will you be OK on your own Sue?'

'Of course. Is there anything I can do to help?'

'I don't think so at the moment,' said Jamieson. 'How about you Clive? Need any help?'

'I'll call you if I think of anything,' said Evans. 'Thanks.'