Donor sd-1

by Ken McClure

  ‘An unusual civil servant,’ said Turner. ‘Anyway, I’ll see if he can shed any light on Amanda’s marrow puncture.’

  ‘I’m obliged to you again,’ said Sandy.

  Turner called Dunbar the following morning. They exchanged pleasantries, then Turner said, ‘I know this is not strictly up your street but I wonder if you can help me out with something?’

  ‘Not another free transplant, I hope,’ joked Dunbar.

  ‘Nothing like that,’ laughed Turner. ‘I do realize your resources are finite. I have a question I hoped you might be able to answer for me… discreetly.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘I’ve had Amanda Chapman’s father on the phone. He was a bit worried about why his daughter had to go through the unpleasantness of a marrow puncture when all her immunological data is already known. He didn’t want to make a fuss and appear ungrateful up there, so he asked me and, frankly, I couldn’t think of a reason either. I thought I’d try to find out quietly. That’s what made me think of you.’

  ‘I see,’ said Dunbar. ‘You don’t want to ruffle any professional feathers in this neck of the woods.’

  ‘Exactly. I thought you might conceivably have access to relevant files and might take a little look for me?’

  Dunbar smiled to himself and said, ‘I can’t promise anything but I’ll see what I can do. If I come up with anything I’ll get back to you.’

  Dunbar put down the phone and thought. He waited until Ingrid had left the room before requesting a current-costs listing for Amanda Chapman from the computer. It was hospital policy that reasons had to be given for all tests and procedures carried out, to avoid possible later accusations of performing unnecessary ones just to inflate the bill. Although Amanda’s parents were not paying, the computerized listing procedure was routine and would therefore apply in her case too. It would be too much trouble to change it all for an individual patient.

  But the listing that came up on the screen made no mention of any marrow puncture having been carried out on Amanda Chapman. None at all. He checked the date on the file. It had last been updated that morning. Dialysis charges and standard daily fees were given, but there was nothing about any special tests or minor surgical procedures.

  Dunbar sucked the end of his pen and considered. It could simply be that the staff had been tardy in keeping Amanda’s file up to date, knowing that in the end there would be no bill to settle, but that seemed unlikely in a hospital that ran like clockwork. The only alternative was that someone had taken a conscious decision not to enter the marrow puncture in the notes. Why? Because they didn’t want a record of it? Maybe that was being too melodramatic. A marrow puncture was not that uncommon a procedure. It was simply the fact that all her immunology stats were already known that made it seem questionable.

  Some kind of mistake? Unnecessary duplication? Had one of the more junior staff, through ignorance of Amanda’s case, written her up for a procedure she didn’t need? It seemed plausible. Dunbar wondered how he could check. He supposed there must be a record of the test somewhere, even if it hadn’t been entered in the patient’s notes. He would call up the record of theatre usage for the past few days and find out where the marrow puncture had taken place and who had carried it out. He didn’t want to make a big thing out of it; he just wanted to know.

  The computer obediently showed the schedules for each theatre in turn. There was no record of Amanda being treated in any of them. There was, of course, a theatre in the Obstetrics wing being used by the Omega patient. No information was available on its use, in keeping with the total confidentiality rule for these patients, but that didn’t seem a very likely choice… or did it? Dunbar suddenly remembered the little girl being taken into the lift leading to the Omega wing on the night he’d raided the Radiology Department. Now it made sense. The girl must have been Amanda Chapman.

  Ingrid returned and said, ‘I’ve done the costings you asked for on transplant patients.’

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘I think you’re in for a bit of a shock,’ she said, putting the file in front of him.

  Dunbar looked at the final figure and let out his breath in a low whistle. ‘That much!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Ingrid. ‘It’s an expensive business.’

  Dunbar nodded and she smiled. ‘You’ll be regretting having agreed to the free NHS referral case,’ she joked.

  ‘Money isn’t everything,’ he replied.

  ‘I don’t think the Scottish Office would be too keen on hearing you say that,’ said Ingrid.

  ‘Perhaps not. But maybe a good part of the cost will be offset by the money coming in from the Omega patient?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.’

  ‘I just thought that Omega patient fees might subsidize the hospital’s generosity when it came to free transplant cases.’

  ‘Oh I see,’ said Ingrid.

  ‘Amanda Chapman isn’t the first transplant patient the hospital has taken on for nothing,’ said Dunbar. ‘I noticed there were two others in the past. They were on the list of free referrals you prepared for me. I just wondered if the cost of their operations had been offset against Omega patients too?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She sounded a little uncertain, but soon recovered and said, ‘I suppose you may be right.’

  Dunbar was puzzled. There was so much money involved that he felt sure Ingrid ought to know how the free transplant referrals had been financed. In fact, he was surprised that more had not been made of the hospital’s generosity, in terms of publicity. After all, the news of Medic Ecosse using large fees to finance expensive charity cases would have reflected very well on the hospital and particularly, as most of the costs would have been borne by the transplant unit, on James Ross and his staff. It would, of course, be at odds with a unit callously conducting animal experiments on some of their patients…

  Dunbar thought he could see a way of asking Ingrid about the tests on Amanda Chapman without arousing suspicion. He looked down her list of transplant costs, then said jokingly, ‘It looks like you folks are short-changing Amanda Chapman.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘According to her costing file, she hasn’t had any of these tests you put on the list for transplant admissions.’

  Ingrid came over to stand behind him and look at the screen. Dunbar brought up Amanda’s file. ‘See?’

  Her face relaxed into a smile and she said, ‘Oh, I know why not. Amanda didn’t have these tests because she came here from the Children’s Hospital. She had all her immunology stats done over there. She didn’t need them. She’s already on the register.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Dunbar. ‘I should have thought of that.’

  But her words raised new questions. Just what the hell had Medic Ecosse been doing, giving Amanda-Chapman a marrow puncture at night in the Omega patient’s wing? If Ingrid Landes, a secretary, realized that Amanda didn’t need further immunology testing, then so without doubt did the nursing and medical staff. Come to think of it, how did Ingrid know about immunology testing? She worked for Giordano in administration; she wasn’t even a medical secretary. It made him curious. The next time she was out of the room he would pull her personnel file.

  In the meantime, he resigned himself to working his way through the accounts for the last financial year, while he waited for the answer to his request for the exhumation of Amy Teasdale. To offset some of the boredom, and check up on things that it might be useful to know in the long run, he’d try to find out something about the money allocated to Ross’s research.

  Until the Scottish Office had pulled the plug on the previous arrangement, he recalled, Ross’s funding had been a proportion of transplant unit profits. As that was the case, the hospital accounts might hold itemized costings for the research. Dunbar wanted to know what the money was being spent on. He also thought he might find out where Ross’s research funding was currently coming from.

  At first, the account
s seemed to have no reference at all to money being allocated to a research budget. Dunbar couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t as if it was secret. Ross was a widely acclaimed researcher. Everyone knew about his research programme. If the item he was looking for was not listed as research money, it must be listed under something else. He checked the file-names again, and his eye was caught by something called ‘Vane Farm Account.’ What was that?

  He clicked it open and found what he was looking for. Ross’s research labs were located at a place called Vane Farm. Dunbar supposed it made sense if a lot of the work was concerned with experimental animals. Everything connected with Ross’s research seemed to be itemized in the Vane Farm account, from technicians’ salaries to rent for the property, from laboratory equipment to security expenditure. He also noted the purchase of pigs.

  There was, however, nothing about alternative sources of funding in the current year. Dunbar had expected to find an increase in core funding from Medic International, which would have been the simplest explanation for Ross having stayed on after the withdrawal of unit-linked funding. But there was no sign of such an increase. He supposed, however, that this could still be the case. There would be no requirement to channel such funding through the hospital accounts, particularly as Ross’s research facilities were located elsewhere. That must be the explanation, unless Ross was funding his own research; and for that he would have to be awfully rich.

  Dunbar knew what Ross earned. His salary was listed in the Sci-Med files. It certainly wasn’t enough to facilitate private research. On the other hand, Ross did have consultancy work in Geneva. Sci-Med hadn’t given details, merely noting that he had it. Was this because they didn’t know any more? He’d ask them when they finally got back to him about his earlier request. Why were they taking so long?

  Ingrid went to lunch. Dunbar said he’d go later, in keeping with his policy of keeping his relationship with Ingrid on a strictly business footing. He still wasn’t sure about her. The possibility that she had been assigned to keep an eye on him was always in his mind, so the safest course of action was to keep her at arm’s length. While she was away, he pulled out her file.

  Ingrid Landes was a fully qualified nurse, he discovered. Besides that she was a graduate in nursing studies from the University of Edinburgh. She had worked in several private clinics before joining Medic Ecosse on the administrative staff. Her last nursing position had been at the St Pierre Clinic in Geneva.

  Well, well, well, thought Dunbar. It’s a small world. Had Ross been responsible for bringing Ingrid to Medic Ecosse?

  His mobile phone rang and broke his train of thought. Thinking it must be Sci-Med with news about the exhumation, Dunbar snatched up the handset.

  ‘Steven? I’m sorry to bother you,’ said Lisa’s voice, ‘but I thought I’d better tell you where I am in case you tried my number and started to worry when there was no reply.’

  ‘What’s wrong? Has something happened?’ asked Dunbar.

  ‘It’s Mum. She took ill during the night. The doctor thinks it’s pneumonia. They’re taking her into the Western Infirmary. I’m going with her.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Dunbar. ‘Actually I was going to call you,’ he began uneasily.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘It’s about Amy…’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I’ve requested her exhumation. I didn’t tell you sooner because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lisa. ‘It just took me by surprise. It shouldn’t have. I suppose it was the obvious thing to do.’

  ‘There’s no other way of finding out,’ said Dunbar gently.

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Lisa distantly. ‘Her poor parents. After all they’ve been through… They’re going to blame me for this.’

  ‘Why?’

  Lisa broke off. ‘I’ll have to go,’ she said. ‘They’re waiting for me. I’ll talk to you later.’

  ‘Lisa-’ Dunbar heard the phone go dead. ‘Damn,’ he muttered. He sat for a few minutes, then decided to drive over to the Western Infirmary.

  He parked in a side street at least a quarter of a mile away from the entrance, thinking that this would be easier than trying to find a parking space any nearer. If he tried, he’d probably fail and spend the next ten minutes kerb-crawling around adjacent streets before ending up where he already was. He walked briskly up to the hospital and followed the signs to the medical admissions ward. He found Lisa sitting on the edge of a plastic chair in the corridor outside, knees clamped together with her clasped hands caught between them. She was staring at the floor as if deeply unhappy.

  ‘Lisa?’

  Lisa looked up and he could see that her eyes were red.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, although she did not seem disappointed.

  ‘You’re upset. I thought I might run you home.’

  She smiled wanly. ‘A kind thought.’

  ‘So what’s upsetting you most? Your mother or Amy.’

  ‘Both I suppose, in their own ways.’

  A plump nurse with flat feet in the ‘ten to two’ position, and holding a clipboard in one hand and a pencil in the other, appeared in the doorway. She asked, ‘Miss Fairfax?’

  Lisa stepped forward. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Dr Campbell will see you now.’ Lisa turned to Dunbar.

  ‘Go ahead. I’ll wait here,’ said Dunbar.

  Lisa was gone for about five minutes. When she returned Dunbar stood up. ‘What’s the news?’

  ‘She’s tucked up in bed. They’ve started her on a course of antibiotics. That’s about it for the moment.’

  As they sat at traffic lights on the way back to Lisa’s flat, Dunbar said quietly. ‘I got the lab report on the isotope from Sheila Barnes’s house. There’s nothing to link it to Medic Ecosse.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’ exclaimed Lisa. ‘But it must have been them. Who else would have wanted to harm her?’

  ‘My feelings too,’ agreed Dunbar. ‘But the lab says it was an industrial isotope not used by anyone in Scotland as far as they know.’

  ‘So they covered their tracks,’ said Lisa.

  ‘Looks like it.’

  They started moving again. Dunbar asked, ‘What did you mean when you said that Amy’s parents would blame you?’

  Lisa sighed at a painful recollection. She said, ‘At the time of Amy’s death, Medic Ecosse managed to convince her parents that I was some kind of unbalanced trouble-maker because of what I was saying. I suppose to them that’s exactly what I must have seemed. I intruded on their grief, and it wasn’t a nice feeling, I assure you.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Dunbar. ‘But you did what you thought was right. That’s not always easy.’

  ‘And here I am about to do it all over again,’ said Lisa, her voice heavy with doubt.

  ‘It’s out of your hands, Lisa.’

  ‘Mmm,’ she said, unconvinced.

  They had arrived at Lisa’s place. In the middle of the day there was plenty of room to park. Dunbar drew up outside the entrance to the block.

  ‘Will you come up for a minute?’

  He nodded and got out.

  ‘Coffee?’ asked Lisa as they entered the flat.

  ‘I’ll make it. You go bathe your eyes,’ said Dunbar.

  The comment made her self-conscious. Her hand flew to her face. ‘Oh God, I must look a sight. I didn’t think.’

  She went off to the bathroom and Dunbar put the kettle on. While it boiled, he looked out of the window.

  Lisa returned some minutes later, smoothing her hair and smelling of perfume. She’d put on light make-up. ‘That’s better,’ she said with a smile. ‘I feel human again.’

  Dunbar smiled too, and responded to her attempts at small-talk as she tried to get back on an even keel. When she fell silent he turned to look at her and saw that her eyes were closed.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he
asked gently.

  ‘There was something I didn’t tell you,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ Dunbar took her in his arms as the tears started to flow.

  ‘I went to Amy’s funeral… just to say good-bye to her properly. I tried to keep in the background but her mother saw me there… No one ever looked at me the way she did… There was such hatred in her eyes.’

  ‘You mustn’t dwell on it,’ soothed Dunbar. ‘She must have been confused and very upset at the time. You said what you believed to be true; that was the right thing to do and when we come up with the evidence of what really happened to Amy, you’ll be completely vindicated.’ He relaxed his hold a little and Lisa looked up at him.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For being here.’

  ‘Sssh.’

  Lisa’s face was very close to Dunbar’s. He looked down into her soft dark eyes and found himself realizing just how much she had got under his skin in the past few days. Images of her had been subtly invading his mind. He saw her lips quiver and part slightly as she sensed his arousal. She didn’t draw back. He brushed an unruly tendril of hair from her face and tucked it gently behind her ear, his fingers tracing on down the curve of her cheek to tilt her face upwards. He brushed a kiss across her lips, still a little uncertain.

  Lisa sensed his hesitation and reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair and draw his lips back down to hers. Their kiss, soft at first, deepened as each felt the other respond.

  Any reservations Dunbar might have had about Lisa’s vulnerability ceased to matter. He was aware only of the closeness of her body and the little darting movements of her tongue inside his mouth. His hands slid down her back and over the neat curve of her buttocks to pull her into him until their hips and thighs met and she could feel him harden.

  She drew back slightly. She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Come,’ she said, leading him by the hand through to the bedroom.

  ‘You’re sure?’ breathed Dunbar as he took hold of her again.

  ‘Very sure,’ replied Lisa, slipping her hands round his waist and easing his shirt free of his trousers. Pushing the fabric from his body, she smoothed her palms across the contours of his chest. Her eyes never left his as she moved her hands down to undo his belt and free him from his trousers.