Ken McClure - Donor

Two more vehicles drew up behind the limo, one an unmarked van and the second a Renault Espace carrying six more people who got out and saw to the unloading of the van. Dunbar guessed that the chests and trunks comprised the Omega patient’s luggage. The man in the grey suit took charge of the operation. Ingrid and Dunbar turned away from the window.

‘Who do you normally work for?’ asked Dunbar.

‘I’m on Mr Giordano’s staff.’

‘Are you sure he can spare you?’

‘It was his idea that I be assigned to you.’

‘It was very good of him to spare you; he must be a very busy man.’ Dunbar looked for signs of unease in Ingrid as he spoke; he thought her eyes might give away the fact of an ulterior motive, but he saw nothing. Either it’s all above board, he thought, or Ingrid Landes is a very good actress.

‘Can I ask what sort of work you normally do?’ asked Dunbar.

‘General PA work for Mr Giordano and liaison between the various units of the hospital.’

‘You know why I’m here, I take it?’

‘You’re a watchdog, sent here by the government to protect their latest investment. A sort of guardian of the public purse.’

‘Near enough.’

‘So how can I help you get started?’

‘I’d like to see staff lists for the various units, salary sheets, monthly accounting figures for the last six months, details of any outstanding bills, details of advance bookings for hospital care and services.’

‘I think we anticipated most of these things. You’ll find copies of the relevant computer files on disks in the top drawer of your desk.’

Dunbar slid open the top drawer and found an ID badge with his name on it and a plastic wallet containing four floppy disks. He smiled and said, ‘I’m impressed. You seem to have thought of everything.’

‘We try,’ said Ingrid. ‘The people who come to this hospital are used to the best. They expect it as of right so that’s what we try to give them.’

‘Do you like working here?’

‘Absolutely,’ she replied, as if it were a stupid question. ‘We take a lot of criticism for being private, but we’re good — no one denies that. The doctors, the nurses, even the porters and cleaners, are hand-picked. When everyone knows that, there’s a certain pride about the place, an esprit de corps if you like. It makes people want to do their best. It’s not like British Rail, where all the employees feel anonymous and end up not giving a hoot about the passengers. It’s different. It’s nice. It’s the way things should be.’

Dunbar nodded. It didn’t seem likely that he would be getting any tittle-tattle or scandal from Ingrid Landes. He decided to press her a little to see how strong her loyalty was.

‘It’s a very artificial environment,’ he said.

She took the bait. ‘How so?’

‘The very fact that it’s a private hospital means you can pick and choose your clientele. That makes things a lot easier, don’t you think?’

‘I don’t think we pick and choose. We take anyone who wants to come here and-’

‘Can afford to.’

‘That’s unfair. Many of our patients are covered by health insurance, something they elect to pay for. It’s their choice. I see nothing wrong in that.’

‘That still doesn’t make you a proper hospital.’

‘I don’t see how you can say that,’ said Ingrid, annoyance creeping into her voice.

‘You’re not obliged to provide services you don’t want to. You don’t have an A amp;E department, you don’t treat VD, you’re not interested in AIDS, TB, or any infectious disease come to that, and as for Alzheimer’s or any kind of mental disorder, forget it. Medic Ecosse wouldn’t want to know.’

‘It’s true we don’t handle everything,’ she agreed defensively, ‘but we do have one of the best transplant units in the country.’

‘Indeed you do,’ said Dunbar with a grin, ‘and one of the most loyal staff members.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You were testing me!’ she exclaimed.

Dunbar raised his eyebrows slightly and pursed his lips in a display of innocence. Ingrid broke into a smile. ‘What a thing to do,’ she said.

‘Are all the staff as loyal as you?’

‘I should think so. The working conditions here are very good, the pay’s well above the going rate and the holidays generous. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this to you. You’ll probably put all that into reverse,’ laughed Ingrid.

‘Fear not,’ smiled Dunbar. ‘I don’t have any such powers and I do appreciate that if you want the best you have to pay for it. So you never have staff problems or problems with disgruntled employees?’

Ingrid frowned as she thought. ‘Not that I can recall,’ she said.

Dunbar maintained an encouraging silence.

‘Well, there was one, come to think of it,’ said Ingrid, ‘quite recently, as a matter of fact. A staff nurse in the transplant unit — I’ve forgotten her name. She started making wild allegations after the death of a patient, poor woman.’

‘What sort of allegations?’

‘One of the patients in the unit, a young girl who had been very ill for a long time, died after an unsuccessful kidney transplant, one of the few deaths in that unit, I have to say. I think that’s maybe the only death they’ve had.’

Dunbar managed to stop himself pointing out that there had been another.

‘I think the nurse had been very attached to the patient. She was very upset and started saying all sorts of ridiculous things, making wild accusations about the negligence of the medical staff and things like that.’

‘What happened to her?’

‘In the circumstances, Dr Ross and Mr Giordano were very understanding about it. They arranged for her to have professional counselling and lots of time off but she persisted with her claims, and in the end I’m afraid they had to let her go.’

‘Poor woman,’ said Dunbar, deciding to let the subject drop. ‘How about showing me around?’

‘What in particular would you like to see?’

‘Absolutely everything.’

Dunbar was impressed by what he saw on his guided tour. He wasn’t allowed to enter any of the rooms currently occupied, as that would have been regarded as an invasion of patient privacy, but he did see from the empty ones the type of accommodation on offer. The rooms would have done justice to a top hotel, each being equipped with telephone, radio, satellite television and space-age communications systems. Wherever possible, medical equipment was hidden from view, much of it secreted behind sliding wall panels. Cardiac monitoring equipment, oxygen supply points and drip-feed equipment were all within easy reach of the bed but out of sight until required. It was hard to tell that this was a hospital room. Even the air smelled fresh and free from antiseptic odour. Dunbar looked up at the ceiling and saw grilles for air-conditioning.

The X-ray suite was state-of-the-art, as was the physiology lab with its gleaming respiratory function equipment. The operating theatres were fitted with the latest in lighting and table technology. Anaesthetics were available through a colour-coded bank of regulators, each gas with its own gauge and flow monitor and not a cylinder in sight. Endoscopy monitors were mounted on swinging arm platforms that could be adjusted to any height and angle required by the surgeon.

As they waited for a lift to take them up to the transplant unit, Ingrid asked, ‘What do you think so far?’

‘It’s hard to believe I’m in a hospital,’ said Dunbar. ‘Apart from anything else, it’s so quiet. There just don’t seem to be any people about. I always associate hospitals with bustle and activity.’

‘Company policy,’ said Ingrid. ‘They don’t just hide the equipment, they hide the nurses too! But whenever you need one, one will materialize at your shoulder.’