Ken McClure - The Anvil

MacLean remarked on this and Tormo said, ‘All the medical and surgical facilities are downstairs. The patients don’t actually go down there until the day of their operation. The nurses on this floor do not wear uniforms. It keeps the patients relaxed.’

MacLean gradually built up a picture of the clinic and its internal layout through prudent questioning of Tormo. The patients’ suites, the communal lounges and recreation areas were on the main floor. There were two operating theatres, recovery rooms and post-operative care facilities on the floor below. All services from water to anaesthetic gases were furnished from a large basement complex. Offices and staff living quarters were on the top floor with the exception of the maintenance staff who lived in an annexe to the basement.

MacLean now had a clear objective. He had to get downstairs to the surgical and medical area where he felt sure he’d find the clinic’s pharmacy. If Cytogerm were here at all, that’s where it would be. He set himself a target for the day of finding out where the pharmacy was located. Leavey had ensured that they would be coming back on Thursday. That’s when he would try to lay hands on the stuff.

Leavey and MacLean watched Tormo carry out blood tests with Leavey taking the occasional photograph and MacLean asking the odd question as he considered what to do next. Eventually he had an idea. ‘If you are the only analyst employed by the clinic you must look after the theatres too?’ he asked Tormo.

‘I do routine monitoring of the surfaces for bacterial contamination,’ agreed Tormo. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I was just thinking we might get more dramatic pictures of you at work in a theatre. Labs are interesting but operating theatres are more… atmospheric, don’t you think?’

‘I see,’ replied Tormo thoughtfully. ‘I take your point. I’ll have to check the theatre schedules.’

Tormo left the room and MacLean crossed his fingers in a silent gesture to Leavey. They did not have long to wait for Tormo’s return. The little man was smiling. ‘We are in luck,’ he announced. ‘No theatre is in use this morning. We can go down there now, if you like.’

Leavey and MacLean followed Tormo down some well-lit stairs and paused at the foot where they came to a tray across the floor with some wet sponge-like material in it. ‘Routine disinfecting of our shoes,’ said Tormo. ‘We have to walk through it. We will have to gown-up too. These are the rules.’ They were led into a small ante-room where Tormo told them to leave their jackets and put on the green gowns he handed them. ‘Post-operative infection at the clinic is practically unknown,’ he said. ‘They like to keep it that way.’

Tormo led them along a corridor to the nurses’ station where three nurses sat at a curved desk. ‘I’m going to do some sampling in theatre one,’ said Tormo. ‘These gentlemen are from International Society of Medical Analysts, they are doing an article about me.’

The nurse smiled and nodded.

Tormo clicked on the theatre lights and MacLean stopped in his tracks. He had expected a well-equipped modern theatre but this one had an observation gallery. He was staring up at it when Tormo asked him if anything was the matter. ‘You don’t usually see these outside teaching hospitals,’ he said.

‘The Hacienda quite often has visitors from other clinics,’ said Tormo, making MacLean even more confused. How could the clinic be using Cytogerm and still inviting the world to watch?

Tormo was confused by MacLean’s preoccupation. ‘It’s quite usual for surgeons to watch other surgeons at work,’ he said. ‘The Hacienda is at the forefront of cosmetic technology.’

‘Yes, of course, ‘ replied MacLean quickly, then seeing his chance he added, ‘I wonder: do you think I could see an operation?’

Tormo frowned, unable to see the relevance of such a request but this was tempered by his desire to please the man who was going to bring him fame. ‘I really don’t know,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘It would be most unusual. Are you medically qualified?’

‘Yes,’ replied MacLean without further explanation.

‘I would have to seek the director’s permission.’

‘It would add depth to the article,’ said MacLean. If the surgeons were using Cytogerm, there was no way they could disguise it from him, of that he was certain.

‘Perhaps we might do the photographs?’ asked Tormo tentatively. MacLean was brought back down to earth. He organised a series of tableaux with Tormo heroically testing various surfaces in the theatre for contamination while Leavey clicked away with his camera.

On the pretext of having to use the toilet MacLean followed Tormo’s directions while Leavey insisted on taking a few more pictures. He took the opportunity to look around the floor. He found the Pharmacy down a corridor to the left of the nurses’ station.

‘Can I help you?’ asked a female voice behind him. It was a nurse. MacLean replied in French, the language of the question, saying that he was lost. He was trying to find his way back to the theatre where he was working with Senor Tormo. The nurse gave him directions and MacLean thanked her.

Leavey was still dutifully snapping away at Tormo when MacLean returned to the theatre. MacLean shot him a look of appreciation and asked how it was going.

‘I think I’ve got some good shots,’ said Leavey.’

‘I didn’t realise so much went into a simple magazine article,’ said Tormo.

MacLean smiled knowingly. ‘If it’s to be a good one, shall we go back upstairs?’

Leavey packed up his camera equipment and Tormo asked MacLean how he thought the article was progressing. MacLean assured him that things were going well and reminded him to ask about permission to see one of the clinic’s operations. He and Leavey were left alone in the upstairs lab while Tormo went to see the director. ‘I found the Pharmacy,’ said MacLean. ‘It’s down from the nurses’ station on the left hand side.’

‘Was it manned?’ asked Leavey.

MacLean confessed that he had not had the chance to find out. A nurse had found him snooping around.

‘We may need a diversion on Thursday,’ said Leavey. ‘I made a mental note of where the fire alarms were.’

Tormo returned and said, ‘The director wasn’t keen on the idea at first but I assured him that you were a distinguished representative of the Analysts’ society and when he heard you were medically qualified he agreed.’

‘Thank you,’ said MacLean. ‘I look forward to it.’

Tormo glanced at Leavey and said, ‘I am afraid of course, that there is no question of allowing your colleague into the gallery.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Leavey. ‘I can’t stand the sight of blood.’

‘When will this happen?’ asked MacLean.

‘The director has kindly given you a choice,’ replied Tormo. ‘There are two scheduled operations tomorrow, one for breast implants and another for thigh liposuction. On Thursday there is only one, facial surgery for the removal of crows’ feet and a double chin.’

MacLean opted for the Thursday operation. If they were using Cytogerm it would be for the face job.

‘Very well,’ said Tormo.

They returned down the mountain and said their good-byes, arranging to meet again on Thursday morning.

‘You are not coming to my lab tomorrow?’ asked Tormo.

‘We have enough information and photographs to be going on with,’ said MacLean. ‘We’ll just fill in the details from your diary for tomorrow.’

Leavey and MacLean started to walk back to the apartment, both deep in thought and saying nothing until Leavey broke the silence and said, ‘That was all just too easy.’

‘Just what I was thinking,’ agreed MacLean.