Chameleon

'I suppose you're right,' said Jamieson. 'Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow night.'

'You don't know how good that makes me feel,' said Sue gently.

'You can tell me tomorrow.'

'When can I expect you?'

'I can't say for sure. I don't know what time I'll get away from here.'

'Would you like me to prepare anything special for you?'

'Just the black nightie,' replied Jamieson.

'Incorrigible, quite incorrigible.'

Jamieson got into the Microbiology lab in the morning to find people whispering in corners. He looked in on Clive Evans' lab to find Moira Lippman alone. 'What's going on?' he asked.

'I think you'd better hear it from Dr Richardson or Dr Evans,' she replied.

Jamieson shrugged his shoulders and asked, 'Where do I find them?'

'They're both in Dr Richardson's office.'

Jamieson retraced his steps through the lab and knocked on Richardson's door.

'Come in,' said Richardson, 'You've come at just the right moment.'

Jamieson entered and closed the door behind him.

'In what way?'

Evans handed Jamieson a small, round, plastic dish and said, 'This is the culture from Thelwell's nasal swab.

Jamieson looked at the spreading bacterial growth on the plate and removed the lid of the culture dish to smell it. It smelt of cut grass. 'Good God,' he said quietly. 'The Pseudomonas.

'A pseudomonas,' insisted Richardson. 'The question now is, is it the one that has been causing all the trouble?'

'When will you know?'

'Moira is putting up the antibiotic tests now,' said Evans.

Jamieson was full of conflicting emotions. If Thelwell proved to be a carrier of the killer strain it would mean that, in all probability, he had been responsible for the recent surgery deaths at Kerr Memorial. How could the man live with himself after that? On the positive side it would mean that at least the cause of the outbreak would have been identified and the problem would now be over. His job would be complete and he could report an end to the affair to Sci Med.

Jamieson wondered how the staff would react to such news. Sympathy and understanding would not readily be forthcoming for such an objectionable character as Thelwell. At the moment, Evans appeared to be neutral but Richardson was showing distinct signs of gloating. Jamieson could not honestly say that he blamed him after what he had suffered at the tongue of Thelwell.

Jamieson had an unpleasant thought. He asked, 'How is the patient he operated on yesterday?'

It was obvious from their faces that neither Richardson nor Evans had thought to inquire. 'I'll ring now,' said Richardson.

Evans and Jamieson sat patiently while Richardson listened to what was being said on the other end of the telephone. They had to wait again when Richardson put the phone down slowly and took a moment to gather his thoughts. 'She has a temperature this morning,' he said finally. 'And she's in some pain.'

Jamieson noted that any suggestion of gloating had disappeared from Richardson entirely. He had just been reminded of the awful human cost involved in the affair.

'Will you speak to Mr Thelwell?' Evans asked Richardson.

Richardson hesitated and Jamieson said, 'I think under the circumstances I had best do that,' said Jamieson.

'I would be grateful,' said Richardson. 'It would not come well from me.'

Jamieson returned to his tiny room to call Thelwell's secretary. There was an envelope lying on his desk; he opened it before dialling. It was the report from the Sci-Med lab on the Pseudomonas. Their analysis had failed to uncover the presence of any extraneous plasmid DNA. Jamieson frowned. He had been wrong. The bug had not been invaded by outside elements to make it resistant to antibiotics; it was a killer in its own right.

This was a surprise. At least it was a surprise to him. Something told him that it would not come as such a surprise to John Richardson. The last time they had spoken Richardson had seemed to hint at this being a possibility. He had asked to be informed about carbon source tests. Why? What did Richardson suspect?

'Mr Thelwell's secretary,' said the voice in the ear-piece.'

'This is Dr Jamieson. I wonder if I might have a word with Mr Thelwell?'

'Is it important?'

'Very.'

Richardson was no longer in his office when Jamieson called in on his way out of the lab so he left the report he had just received from Sci-Med on the consultant's desk along with a little note saying, 'You were right. How did you know?'

Jamieson knew that it was going to be difficult to tell Thelwell what he had to. It seemed to grow more difficult with each step he took up the stairs until he found himself even hesitating to knock on the door outside the surgeon's office.

'Mr Thelwell can give you five minutes,' said the secretary when Jamieson finally entered. 'He has a busy schedule.'

'Had', thought Jamieson. His life is not ever going to be quite the same again.

Thelwell frowned when he saw Jamieson. 'Yes?' he said with an exasperated sigh. 'What now?'

'I've come about your nasal swab test,' said Jamieson.

'What about it? I didn't use cream this time.'

'I know. The lab grew Pseudomonas from it.'

Thelwell looked as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt. His face clouded then his eyes flashed. 'No!' he rasped. 'I will not have it. This is something dreamed up by Richardson! I do not believe it! I just do not believe it!'

'I've seen the culture Mr Thelwell. It's Pseudomonas all right.'

'It may be pseudomonas but it did not come from me. It's not mine! Can't you see? That incompetent clown of a microbiologist has interfered with the cultures!'

'Mr Thelwell you are being entirely unreasonable,' said Jamieson calmly.

'Unreasonable!' exploded Thelwell. 'Unreasonable you call it! That man tries to wreck my career and blame all these deaths on me and you call me unreasonable! I knew it! What did I say the last time? I told you Richardson would dream up something to embarrass me. It's a wonder he didn't find bubonic plague in my swab!'

Jamieson found himself becoming angry. Thelwell appeared unable to see beyond some petty feud. His patients seemed to be the last thing on his mind. 'I understand Mrs Edelman is running a temperature and is in some pain this morning,' he said flatly.

'Mrs Edelman?' asked Thelwell absently.

'The patient you operated on yesterday,' said Jamieson harshly.

'What are you suggesting?' hissed Thelwell.

'I am suggesting that she may be infected with the Pseudomonas.' said Jamieson. 'I am further suggesting that the evidence currently points to you being the carrier of the infection in this hospital. I must ask you to refrain from operating until this has been thoroughly investigated.'

'Refrain from…' repeated Thelwell as though stunned. 'This is ludicrous!'

'It's common sense,' said Jamieson. 'The lab doesn't have the antibiogram results yet and it may be that you are carrying a quite ordinary strain but until we know for sure I am going to ask the authorities to suspend you if you will not do it voluntarily.'

'Get out!' spat Thelwell. 'Just get out!'

SEVEN

Jamieson kept his eyes glued to his door mirror as he accelerated out of the feeder lane to join the main carriageway south. It felt good to be travelling home to Sue but ever since the accident he felt uneasy about driving on motorways. He slipped into the nearside lane and settled there for a bit until he got a feel for how much traffic there was. In days past he would have put his foot to the floor and moved over into the fast lane as quickly as possible. These days were gone.