Neef nodded and said, “I know how you feel. I’ve been there a hundred times myself.”
Eve looked at him and shook her head. “I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. I really don’t understand how you do it day in day out.”
“Neil needs you now more than ever” said Neef. “Are you up to it?”
“I promised,” said Eve. “It’s going to break my heart but I’ll be there for him every step of the way.”
“Good and I’ll be here for you.”
Eve stretched her hand across the desk and rested it on top of Neef’s. “I think I’m going to need you. I said I’m up to it but to tell the truth, I’m not at all sure. Is there nothing at all you can do to help him?”
“Not in the way of treatment but we can deal with the pain.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in my life before,” said Eve. “I’m absolutely full of anger and frustration but I don’t know who to blame. I don’t know who to vent it on. I want to hit something or somebody but there’s nothing and nobody. What do I do?”
Neef shrugged and said, “People have to find their own way of dealing with it. I’m sorry. That’s not much help.”
“Maybe I’ll work on my editor. Get him to mount some kind of campaign to raise funds in Neil’s name. I don’t want Neil to be forgotten. That wouldn’t be right.”
Neef nodded. He could feel Eve’s hurt.
“Have you seen Frank MacSween yet?” asked Eve
“I saw him earlier today,” confessed Neef.
“How is he taking it?”
“Badly.”
“Poor man. Did they discover what the child died of?”
“Not yet,” lied Neef. There was no way round it. It was the first outright lie he’d told Eve and he felt bad about it but he didn’t want her to know about the latest developments. He diverted his eyes. He could feel Eve looking at him, wondering, appraising him or was that his own conscience accusing him?
“I’d better be going,” said Eve. “Will you be leaving soon?”
“I’ve got a meeting. We seem to have more and more meetings these days,” said Neef weakly.
“Good night then,” said Eve. “I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”
Lennon was ten minutes late for the meeting which Frank MacSween had convened in the Pathology lecture theatre, hoping that it wouldn’t attract too much attention if it was held down there. It was in one of the oldest parts of the building, a semi-circular room with tiered seating almost reaching up to the high ceiling, its wooden benches polished by the backsides of generations of medical students. At floor level there was a blackboard fronted by a long table and a lectern. The room was badly lit by individual bulbs hanging from long cords. The only concession made to modern times was an overhead projector.
“Damned traffic,” said Lennon as he entered. “Sorry I’m late.”
Neef introduced Lennon to Lawrence Fielding and said, “There’s just going to be the four of us. There wasn’t time to set up anything bigger.”
“That will come later,” said Lennon. “In the meantime it’s important we have an exchange of views and information. Maybe I should start by writing up what we know?”
“Good idea,” said Neef.
Lennon deposited his coat and briefcase on the desk in front of the blackboard and ran his hand along the channel in front of the board until he found some chalk.
“There have now been four cases, Melanie Simpson, Jane Lees, Charles Morse and...?”
Neef looked to MacSween who said, “Nigel Barnes.”
Lennon wrote the name up on the board. “Four people who have been exposed to a powerful carcinogen. We don’t know what or where it is but our assumption has been that it was a gas of some sort. This has now been thrown into some doubt.”
“Correct,” said MacSween. “There’s no way my grandson could have been exposed to chemical fumes. He must have become contaminated through me. I must have taken something home on my clothes.”
“It could have been Charlie Morse,” said Neef, realising there was something they had overlooked.”
MacSween looked at him questioningly.
“Nigel came into contact with Charlie at a lunch you and your wife gave a couple of weekends ago. I remember Charlie trying to get Nigel to go to sleep. He was walking up and down with him on his shoulder. Remember?”
MacSween remained silent as he digested this.
“Gentlemen, I really have to point out that you are talking about this as if cancer were a transmissible disease. Cancer is not infectious or transmissible. It’s not something you catch from somebody else. All four people must have come into contact with the prime source, the carcinogenic substance itself.”
“That’s why we are saying it couldn’t have been any kind of gas,” said MacSween. “It had to be something we could have carried on our person or clothes.”
“I agree a gas now seems unlikely,” conceded Lennon. “So what are you suggesting?”
“I carried out the PMs on both Melanie Simpson and Jane Lees,” said MacSween.
“So?”
“I must have contaminated myself with the carcinogen. It was probably in the girls’ lungs.”
“But you didn’t find anything in the dead girls’ lungs,” Lennon reminded him. “There was no foreign material found after extensive microscopy.”
MacSween shook his head in frustration. “There must have been something,” he said.
“I think we should put Charlie Morse into isolation, just in case,” said Neef.
“On the grounds that he might be harbouring an invisible, carcinogen which has given him cancer?” said Lennon.
“For want of a better explanation, yes,” said Neef.
“I agree,” said Fielding. “We can’t take any chances with something like this.”
“Whatever it is,” said Neef.
“That just about sums it up,” said MacSween. “We’ve really no idea. Have we?”
There was silence in the room but it spoke volumes.
“I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it soon,” said Lennon. “Let’s not be defeatist.”
Neef nodded his head but more through hope than conviction. MacSween just stared down at the floor.
“What do I tell the Press?” asked Lennon.
“I think you’ll have to play that be ear. Try to play it down as much as possible.”
“I suppose,” agreed Lennon. “I wish we could get some kind of a break before they get hold of this.”
“So where is such a break going to come from?” asked Lawrence Fielding.
Lennon said, “If what Dr MacSween’s saying is true and either he or Charles Morse contaminated the baby with traces of the carcinogenic substance picked up from Melanie Simpson or Jane Lees we should be able to find that substance with more detailed analysis and searching. Has Jane Lees’ funeral taken place yet?”
“No,” replied MacSween. “Her body is still in the mortuary.”
“Good,” said Lennon. “And Charles Morse is still alive of course, so we have two chances of identifying the carcinogen. I’ll arrange for a team of forensic pathology technicians to help you, Doctor. They’ll be here tomorrow. I suggest we meet again on Friday?”
“We’ll have to tell University College Hospital what’s going on,” said Neef. “They’re treating Charlie Morse.”
“Of course,” said Lennon. “We need their full cooperation. I’ll contact them as soon as we’re finished here and I think we should widen the scope of the next meeting to include all interested parties of both hospitals.”
Neef was surprised to find Kate Morse sitting in the duty room when he got back to the unit. She wasn’t in uniform but she was sitting behind her desk.
Neef’s first thought was to say all the usual things in the circumstances but he stopped himself. He knew Kate too well for that. He knew she shouldn’t be there; she knew she shouldn’t be there so there was no need to say it. He said simply, “Hello Kate. Want to talk?”