“Tea?” asked Sister Lindeman.
“Please”
Tremaine put down the clip board and stretched before putting his hands behind his head. “Only two more months of A amp;E to go,” he sighed. “How long have you been doing it James?”
“Six years.”
Tremaine expelled breath loudly and said, “You know, I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am to you for helping out tonight.”
“Forget it,” said Saracen.
“Something should be done about Garten,” said Tremaine, “How does he keep getting away with it? I’ve got a damned good mind to complain to the authorities about him.”
“You will do no such thing,” said Saracen with an air of finality that took Tremaine aback, “You will keep your mouth shut, finish your residency and leave with a good reference. Understood?”
“If you say so…But it’s so unjust.”
“Don’t waste your time looking for justice. Keep your nose clean and get on with your career.” With that, Saracen got up and left through the swing doors.
Sister Lindeman returned with the tea and looked surprised. She looked around her and then asked, “Has Doctor Saracen gone?”
Tremaine replied that he had. He accepted the mug that Sister Lindeman held out and asked almost absent mindedly, “How come James is still only a registrar? He must be what, thirty five? thirty six? Come to that, why is he still working in A amp;E?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean Doctor,” said Sister Lindeman. Her voice was cold enough to ensure that Tremaine knew not to pursue that line of conversation.
Tremaine sipped his tea, still deep in thought. “And as for Garten…”
“Drink your tea Doctor.”
Saracen pulled up his collar against the wind and walked up the hill to find the duty porter. The man emerged from his turreted gate-house when he saw Saracen approach.
“Where did you leave my car?” Saracen asked.
“It’s round the back, parked behind the bins.” The man dropped the keys into Saracen’s hand and said good- night. Saracen turned and walked back down the hill, taking care not to slip on the wet cobblestones. It had stopped raining but only recently for water still trickled down the hill through the joints and crevices of a surface that had been laid before the turn of the century.
Unlike the front of the building which had an array of neon signs and direction indicators the lighting was poor at the back for the rear boasted no public buildings save for a small chapel attached to the mortuary. The lighting was therefore minimal and comprised solely of electric conversions to the original gas mantle holders on the walls.
Saracen saw that a notice had been pinned to one of the two tall mortuary doors. He stopped to read it but had to manoeuvre himself till he achieved an angle where there was enough light to make it possible.
MORTUARY CLOSED DUE TO REFRIGERATION FAILURE
For transfer arrangements call ext. 2711.
His curiosity satisfied, Saracen walked on past the row of large bins that held the Hospital’s refuse. Each was mounted on a wheeled trolley and fitted with a grab ring to fit the hydraulic hoists of the collection vehicles that called every other day. He took in breath sharply as a cat leapt from the top of one of the bins in front of him and disappeared off into the shadows.
Saracen found his car squeezed into a small space behind the row for parking space was always a problem within the precincts of the hospital. He had to sidle between it and a wet stone wall to reach the driver’s door. As he fumbled for the lock in the gloom he dropped the keys and cursed softly as he found difficulty in bending down in the narrow space.
As he groped for his keys Saracen became aware of a faint hissing sound. At first he thought it must be coming from one of the tyres but as it grew louder he realised that it was coming from the other side of the bins. Intrigued, he stood up and squeezed out from behind the car to peer through a gap between two of the bins where he could see out into the courtyard.
The sound grew louder and Saracen recognised it as the noise car tyres made on wet cobblestones. A vehicle was freewheeling slowly down the hill from the gate. He waited for its headlights to illuminate the courtyard but nothing happened. Instead he saw the dim outline of a dark van come slowly round the corner without lights and stop outside the mortuary.
The light coming from the single bulb above the mortuary doors enabled Saracen to see that three men had got out. He watched spellbound as they donned some kind of protective clothing that they took from the back of the van. The unlikely possibility that they were refrigeration engineers was totally dispelled when Saracen saw them put on hoods and full face visors and then pull on gauntlets.
Looking like astronauts about to enter their space craft, the men approached the mortuary doors in single file. There was a brief pause while the lock was undone then they disappeared inside.
Saracen began to wonder if he was hallucinating. Perhaps it had all been a vision brought on by tiredness. He even screwed up his eyes before looking again and finding the van still there.
A few minutes later two of the men re-emerged carrying a long box that appeared to be wrapped in plastic sheeting. They loaded the box into the back of the van the turned to wait for the third man who was still inside. Through the open door Saracen saw the darkness of the mortuary become eerily light as if candles had been lit inside. The third man came out and closed the door. Saracen walked out into the open and approached the van. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
Three dark visors turned to look at him but no one spoke.
“I asked you what you were doing,” said Saracen as he got closer. Still no reply. Saracen suddenly felt apprehensive. The lack of response and the fact that he could not see the men’s faces made him feel that it might be unwise to get any closer. “Just stay where you are!” he ordered and turned on his heel to make for the gate- house. He only made it to the foot of the hill before something hit him on the back of the head and unconsciousness swept over him like a black fog.
Chapter Two
It was daylight when Saracen came round and opened his eyes. The pain inside his head brought on a sudden wave of nausea when he tried to move so he lay quite still for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into some kind of order. He remembered the incident outside the mortuary and assumed, correctly as it happened, that he had been attacked from behind. But where was he now?
The silence and cold, grey light suggested that it might be dawn but if the dull rainy weather had persisted from the previous day it could be any time, he reasoned. It was particularly hard to tell for he was not lying outside on the road. There was a ceiling above him and the air, although unheated, was perfectly still.
“Nurse!” Saracen croaked, in the hope that he might be in a hospital bed but somehow he knew that he was not. It felt all wrong.
Still unwilling to move his head for fear of awakening the pain dragon, he felt about him with his hands and discovered that he was lying on something hard. It was metallic…cold smooth metal…stainless steel perhaps?
At intervals his fingers sank into narrow slots that ran longitudinally. Was that the word? Saracen found it hard to concentrate. Try as he might he just could not think clearly. Was it the head wound or was it something else, he wondered for there was a smell in the room, a heavy, sickly sweet smell, a smell that was now more of a sensation really, as if his senses had been overloaded with it after a long period of inhalation.
Had he been chloroformed? No, he decided, it wasn’t chloroform, neither was it ether. It was something else, another chemical that he felt sure he should recognise but could not because he could not think clearly.
