“I see,” said Neef, feeling a bit foolish.
“If it’s any comfort, I think you did the right thing in asking for a check. You were only acting in the best interests of your patients.”
“Thanks,” said Neef. “That doesn’t make it any the less embarrassing, I’m afraid.”
“The right road is sometimes the hardest to travel,” said Farro-Jones. “I don’t think you should become any less vigilant because everything was OK this time. It’s no bad thing for Max to think we’re keeping an eye on him.” He got up to go, adding, “If there’s anything else just give me a call.”
“Thanks David,” said Neef.
Neef put the virus vials in the unit fridge and looked up Max Pereira’s phone number on the desk pad. There was no reply. He called an alternative mobile number.
“Pereira.”
“Max, it’s Michael Neef. Your viruses have been cleared by the medical school people.”
“No kidding,” said Pereira.
Neef winced but kept his resolution. He wanted to apologise to the man but he still felt that he’d done what needed doing in the circumstances and Farro-Jones had been right, it was no bad thing for Max to believe he was being watched. “We could start tomorrow if I can get theatre facilities,” he said.
“Fine by me,” said Pereira.
“It’s probably too short notice to get Mr Beavis for Thomas Downy but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Whatever,” said Pereira dryly.
Neef put down the phone and went in search of Kate Morse. He found her with Thomas Downy and told her about the start of the trial. “Do you think we can be ready?”
“Of course we can,” replied Kate. “What about theatres?”
“I’m on my way to see about that. I thought I’d check with you first.” Neef thought that Kate was looking pale and drawn. He took her gently to one side and asked, “Is everything all right?”
Kate put her hand to her cheek nervously and said, “I’m sorry. It’s Charlie. He’s still off work. We got the doctor in yesterday. He said it was flu but I’m worried it might be more serious.”
“I see,” said Neef. “What makes you think that?”
“Charlie’s never ill. He gets the occasional cold and makes a meal of it but he’s never really ill if you know what I mean.”
“Maybe that’s the problem then,” said Neef. “This time maybe he really has come down with a dose of the flu. There’s a world of difference between what people call flu and the real thing. You can really be quite ill with it.”
“You’re probably right,” said Kate.
“Why not give it until the morning and if you’re still not happy, call your GP again. Tell him you’re a nursing sister if he doesn’t know that already. You know what you’re talking about.”
Neef managed to book enough theatre time for the following day to start three patients off on Gene Therapy. He decided that the first two would be Rebecca Daley who had liver cancer and Martin Liddle, a pancreatic tumour patient. They would only require the small theatre. The big theatre was available in the afternoon. He booked it, hoping that Norman Beavis would be free to carry out the operation on Thomas Downy. Beavis’ secretary confirmed that this was so. Beavis was operating at University College Hospital in the morning but would be free in the afternoon. The remaining two patients were booked into the small theatre, both on Friday morning.
Feeling that he was on a winning streak, Neef telephoned the Pharmacy department. “Has my Antivulon arrived yet?” he asked.
“Half an hour ago, Dr Neef. It’s on its way up to you now.”
Neef sought out Lawrence Fielding and told him the good news. Fielding said he’d get the relevant patients started on the drug as soon as it appeared.
Neef was walking back to his office, feeling better than he’d done for a few days, when he bumped into Eve Sayers. She had been visiting Neil and had just come out of his room.”
“Everything OK?” asked Neef.
“Just fine,” replied Eve. “I was hoping I might bump into you. I have a problem.”
Neef led Eve back to his office and closed the door behind them. “What’s up?”
“A man named Lees called my newspaper yesterday and the editor has asked me to check up on his story. I think he was the man who was in your office yesterday when I arrived?”
Neef nodded. “His daughter has cancer; he was very upset.”
“I told my editor that I had an agreement with you and couldn’t break it. He said he understood but that it was an important story of great public interest if true. If I didn’t feel I could take it on he would ask another reporter to cover it. I’m sorry.”
“I see,” said Neef. “Well, Mr Lees approached your paper directly so if it has to be anyone it might as well be you. What do you need to know?”
Eve related what Mr Lees had told her editor. “Is this substantially correct?” she asked.
“It is true that Jane Lees has cancer and we think she must have been exposed to some carcinogenic gas or chemical. She’s the second within the space of a week.”
“Good Lord,” said Eve.
“Mr Lees feels that not enough is being done to trace the cause but I suspect it is. The Public Health people are investigating and they are the experts. Mr Lees would prefer lots of uniforms combing the streets.”
“Wouldn’t that help?” asked Eve. “I mean if it’s a chemical spillage or something dumped illegally?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Neef. “It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. This sort of thing calls for clever detective work. With any luck the PH people will have pinpointed the source by the end of the week.”
Eve nodded and said, “In that case I’ll do my best to stall for a couple of days to give them a chance.”
“Thanks,” said Neef.
Eve got up to leave and Neef escorted her to the door. As he turned the handle Eve suddenly said, “Have dinner with me this evening?”
Neef was taken aback. “Eeer... all right,” he said.
“Good. Come around eight.”
Neef sat in his chair for a few moments doodling on the phone pad while he thought about the invitation; it had come as a complete surprise so his first reaction was to look for an ulterior motive. When he failed to see one he concluded that he should stop being paranoid and just look forward to spending a pleasant evening with Eve. He picked up the phone and called Lennon at the Public Health Service. Luckily, he was in his office.
“Any joy with the investigation?” he asked.
“Nothing yet,” replied Lennon. “I thought we’d be sure to crack it when we got two cases but it hasn’t turned out that way. We haven’t found any factor that links them at all. Still, I suppose we should be grateful that we only have two cases. The cancer source can’t be too accessible or we’d have more.”
“There is one problem on the horizon, however,” said Neef.
“What?”
“Jane Lees’ father has gone to the papers, demanding action over what he sees as some kind of cover-up. The story has been stalled for a couple of days but probably not more.”
“Damnation,” sighed Lennon. “Thanks for the warning.”
“How is the girl, by the way?”
“Not good,” replied Neef.
Seven
Neef stopped at a branch of Thresher’s on the way over to Eve’s apartment and picked up a bottle of Australian Chardonnay from the cold cabinet; the assistant told him that wines from Australia and New Zealand were very fashionable; he himself had little interest in wine. Suddenly worrying that white might not be appropriate; he also bought a bottle of Cotes du Rhone. He arrived at Eve’s just before eight.
Eve was wearing a cream silk blouse over black cord trousers which emphasised her good figure. She was wearing her hair loose again and swept it back from her face as she opened the door and invited Neef in. She accepted the wine with a, “Thank you,” and said, “I’m just about organised. Why don’t you help yourself to a drink while I do things in the kitchen?”