Pestilence (14 page)

Saracen nodded but did not say anything. He watched as pulses chased each other along the green screen of the oscilloscope and wondered about their regularity. “Are the X-Rays up here?” he asked.

“In my office.”

Saracen followed the sister and took a large envelope from her. He removed the film from it and clipped it up on the light box to wait for a moment until the fluorescent tubes had stuttered into life. “God what a mess,” he said softly as he followed the crack lines on the image of Chenhui’s skull.

“Dr Nelson says it’s a wonder she’s still alive,” said the sister.

Saracen unclipped the X-Ray and returned it to its envelope. He said, “If, by any chance she should come round Sister, I’d like to know as soon as possible.”

“Of course, I’ll leave a note for my relief too.”

Saracen returned to A&E to speak to Tremaine. “Does Garten know about this?” he asked.

“He was out when I called,” replied Tremaine. “How is Chenhui?”

“Bad” replied Saracen.

“Will she make it?”

Saracen shook his head. “I doubt it.”

Tremaine made a face. Saracen pulled up the collar of his coat and said, “I’m off.”

Saracen poured himself a whisky and sat down wearily in front of the fire. He hoisted his feet up on to a stool and let out his breath in a long sigh before massaging his eyelids with thumb and forefinger. Things could not go on like this, he concluded. The sight of Chenhui lying in IC close to death had just been too much coming on top of everything else. What had she been trying to do when she had fallen? Could she even have been pushed? Saracen baulked at the thought of Garten being involved in murder but still clung to his original suspicion that Garten had been keeping Chenhui out of the way at Morley Grange. Perhaps she had been trying to escape when she had fallen? If only he could speak to her but that seemed a remote possibility in view of her condition. The other alternative was to confront Garten straight out. Saracen drained his glass and decided that that was exactly what he would do. He poured out more whisky and started to think about how he would do it when fate pre-empted him and the phone rang; it was Garten.

“I’ve just heard about Chenhui. Tremaine told me you’d been up to see her?”

“Yes,” said Saracen flatly.

“Well?” The irritation showed in Garten’s voice. “How is she?”

“Multiple skull fractures. Looks bad.”

“My God, what was she trying to do,” muttered Garten.

“Escape?” ventured Saracen, jumping in with both feet.

The silence seemed to go on for ages before Garten said, in a voice that had been filtered clean of any emotion, “Would you care to explain that remark?”

Saracen took a deep breath and said, “I don’t think Chenhui should have been admitted to Morley Grange in the first place. I think you arranged it to keep her quiet.”

“Have you taken leave of your senses Saracen?” spluttered Garten. “Quiet about what for God’s sake?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Saracen, “But it has something to do with the deaths of Myra Archer and Leonard Cohen. What happened to them Nigel? What are you up to?”

“You must have gone mad Saracen! Stark staring mad!!

“I don’t think so,” replied Saracen. “But we’ll let the Police decide I think.”

Garten’s tone changed. He became conciliatory. “Look Saracen, I don’t know what’s troubling you but I’m sure that there’s a perfectly rational explanation for whatever it is. Why don’t we have a talk about this in the morning? You can get things off your chest. We’ll sort it all out and then we’ll both feel better?”

Saracen considered his position and then concurred. “All right,” he said, “But if I’m not satisfied with your explanation I’m going to the Police.”

“In the morning then,” soothed Garten.

Saracen put down the receiver, knowing that there was no going back. A knot of fear and foreboding settled in his stomach and he felt certain that it would remain there for the foreseeable future.

Saracen came on duty at eight am to relieve Alan Tremaine. He told him what he had done.

“Want me to stick around?” Tremaine asked.

“No, keep your head down for the moment.”

Garten was expected to arrive at nine but by nine thirty there was still no sign of him. At ten Saracen grew edgy and called Garten’s home. There was no reply. Ten thirty and still no Garten.

At eleven the duty phone rang; it was the Medical Superintendent’s secretary. “Dr Saithe would like to see you in fifteen minutes Dr Saracen.”

“I can’t leave A&E Dr Garten hasn’t come on duty yet.”

“Dr Garten says A&E will be covered.”

“Garten’s up there?” exclaimed Saracen.

“Dr Garten is with Dr Saithe at the moment.”

Saracen hung up. Garten and Saithe together? What was going on? Saracen felt the knot tighten in his stomach. He found Sister Lindeman and told her that he would have to go out for a while. “I understand that cover’s on the way.”

“Who?” asked Lindeman.

“Search me,” replied Saracen distantly.

Saracen was in the locker room getting changed when Alan Tremaine came in looking annoyed. “I just got into bad and Garten rings telling me to get right back here. What the hell is going on?”

“I’m just about to find out,” said Saracen. “I’ve to be in Saithe’s office in five minutes. Garten’s already there.”

“Where does Saithe fit into all this?” asked Tremaine.

Saracen shrugged and said, “I don’t know but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Good luck,” said Tremaine as Saracen opened the locker room door.

Saracen smiled weakly in reply.

Saracen turned off the main corridor and started to climb the stairs to the administration block. He span round at the sound of a metallic crash behind him and saw that a porter had caught the bottom step with a kitchen trolley. The man cursed loudly as he wrestled it back on course and the smell of boiled potatoes reached Saracen up on the landing. He turned back and continued to climb.

“Take a seat please,” said Saithe’s secretary without smiling. Saracen took this as a bad sign. Secretaries were always a dead give away, an advance warning of what was to come. He wondered if they mirrored their bosses’ attitudes dutifully or whether they managed to contrive at some kind of personal agreement. He watched the woman as she returned to her typing, the gold chain attached to her spectacles quivering slightly on the purple plain of her twin set. His attention wandered to the picture on the wall behind her. The bows of ‘The Clipper Tae Ping’, were dipping into spray frozen by the artist for ever. A buzzer sounded. “Ask Dr Saracen to come in.”

Saracen had been prepared for two men in the room but there were three.

“I don’t think you know Mr Matthew Grimshaw, chairman of the health board,” said Saithe.

Grimshaw, a small thickset man with little in the way of neck or forehead and a nose the colour of a ripe tomato did not hold out his hand. Instead he gave a barely perceptible nod. Saracen nodded back and Saithe indicated that he sit down.

Saithe removed his spectacles and held them on the desk in front of him. “Dr Saracen,” he began, “We are given to understand that you authorised the giving of blood to one Matilda Mileham before statutory permission had been obtained.

Saracen was taken aback. This was not what he had expected. “The girl was a Jehovah’s Witness. The parents refused permission,” he said, feeling puzzled.

“You are aware of the hospital’s policy in such cases?” asked Saithe.

“Of course,” replied Saracen. “I did apply for her to be made a ward of court.”

“But you did not wait for the order to be granted?”

“I couldn’t. The child would have died.”

“In your opinion,” said Garten, speaking for the first time and sounding hostile.

“In my opinion,” replied Saracen, rising to the bait. “And I was the one there at the time.”

“The child has subsequently developed hepatitis from the transfusion,” said Saithe.

“It can happen. It was just bad luck that’s all.”

“Or bad judgement,” said Garten.

“Your precipitate action has laid the health board open to a serious court action,” said Saithe.

“Precipitate action!” repeated Saracen, unable to contain himself any longer. “What are you talking about? The child needed blood or she would have died! This is ridiculous!”

“Law suits are not ridiculous Doctor, they are a very serious matter indeed.” said Saithe.

“What law suit?” exploded Saracen. “There isn’t a court in the country who would find against measures taken to save a child’s life.”

“The question is, were these measures necessary Doctor? Or were they the headstrong action of a doctor with little or no regard for authority?”

“Of course the transfusion was necessary!” stormed Saracen. “The girl was close to death.”

“Dr Garten disagrees.”

So that’s it, thought Saracen, Garten’s gone on the attack. “Dr Garten was not there,” he said coldly.

“I am quite satisfied that Dr Garten has had access to all the relevant information and notes. I…we,” Saithe turned to Grimshaw, “are confident of his judgement in this matter.” Saithe put his glasses back on and looked directly at Saracen. He said, “Dr Saracen, you have by your irresponsible action placed this hospital and its health board in an embarrassing and potentially damaging situation. You are accordingly suspended from duty pending a full inquiry.”

Saracen was stunned and for a long moment there was silence in the room. Then he recovered and said, “This is ludicrous!

“You will have the opportunity to defend yourself at the inquiry,” said Saithe evenly as he gathered together his papers from the desk.”

Saracen was furious. He looked at Garten and said, “I see, you keep Chenhui quiet by locking her up under sedation and now you get me out of the way with this law suit nonsense. Well it won’t work! I’m still going to go on asking questions about Myra Archer and Leonard Cohen!

Saithe interrupted Saracen saying, “Dr Garten has told us something of your outrageous allegations. Just what is it you are suggesting Doctor?”

“I am suggesting,” said Saracen slowly and making a conscious effort to keep his temper under control, “That there were serious irregularities over the deaths of two patients admitted to A&E.”

“And what were these ‘irregularities’?” asked Saithe scathingly, his forehead creasing into a well practised frown that was meant to imply a superior intelligence in action.

“The first case, a woman named Myra Archer was recorded in the book as being dead on arrival at Skelmore General. She was not. I know for a fact that she was alive when the ambulance brought her in. Saithe looked to Garten who adopted an air of mild exasperation before smiling as if about to correct the foolish notion of a child. “There is a perfectly simple explanation,” he began. “Mrs Archer was indeed alive when the ambulance arrived… the first time, but not when she was admitted.”

Saithe adopted his frown again. Grimshaw pulled out an exceedingly large handkerchief and blew loudly into it causing Garten to pause before continuing. “Dr Tang, who was the medical officer on board, came and told me that she suspected the patient might be suffering from an infectious disease. Under the circumstances I thought it wiser that she be taken on to the County Hospital.”

“What infectious disease?”

“A Salmonella Infection.”

“How did Chenhui diagnose that?” asked Saracen.

“From her initial interview with the patient.” replied Garten.

“But she was unconscious when Medic Alpha got to her,” protested Saracen.

“Dr Tang says different and she was there,” said Garten with a cutting edge to his voice.

“What happened next?” asked Saithe.

“The patient died shortly after leaving the grounds of the hospital. Dr Tang radioed for advice and I told her to return here whereupon Mrs Archer was then classified dead on arrival.”

“Why did you bring her back?” asked Saithe.

Garten smiled conspiratorially at Saithe and said, “I’m sure you are only too well aware Martin that the County believes we send them too many of our cases already. I thought it wiser to re-call Medic Alpha and do the paper work myself.”

Saracen glanced up at the ceiling in frustration. Not only was Garten sounding plausible he was beginning to sound like a Saint.

Saithe grunted his approval. Saracen parked his tongue in the side of his cheek.

“Any more ‘irregularities’?” asked Saithe, his voice tinged with distaste.

“Lots,” replied Saracen, making the word sound like an expletive. “When Myra Archer’s husband arrived at A&E he was told that his wife had been taken to the County Hospital.”

“A regrettable misunderstanding,” said Garten smoothly.

“Then he was refused permission to see his wife’s body.”

“I thought it wiser in view of the Post Mortem that the request be denied,” said Garten.

“What Post Mortem?” asked Saracen, playing his ace. It failed to have the effect he had anticipated. Garten exchanged an exasperated glance with Saithe then he looked at Saracen and shook his head. Saracen felt his stomach go hollow. Something was wrong. He had played his trump card and Garten hadn’t even flinched.