you know it. Several more tests will have to be made and under properly controlled conditions before you can be pronounced free from contamination.
'Free from contamination!' stormed Thelwell. 'I was never contaminated in the first place! It was that moron Richardson who made everything up!'
'That has yet to be established beyond doubt,' said Jamieson calmly.
Thelwell became almost speechless with anger and frustration. 'The man committed suicide didn't he? As soon as he was faced with the PHS report he strung himself from the rafters! What more do you want?'
'Two more negative tests from the PHS.' replied Jamieson.
'And meanwhile my lists keep getting longer and longer.' said Thelwell shaking his head in exasperation.
'Better your lists than the obituary columns.'
'I want it placed on record that I object most strongly to your attitude and interference in my department,' hissed Thelwell through gritted teeth.
'I would have thought that the safety of your patients would have been at least as important to you as it is to me,' said Jamieson.
'What's that supposed to mean?' snapped Thelwell.
Despite his intention to confine himself to the investigation in hand Jamieson permitted himself one little deviation and one comment slipped out. He said, 'Your enthusiasm for the operating table in the circumstances, suggests a certain disregard for the consequences. The source of the outbreak in your department has still not been established. Don't you care about these women?'
The expected outburst did not occur. Instead Jamieson was treated to the spectacle of Thelwell having some kind of fit. At least that was what it seemed like for he went quite white and his hands started to tremble violently. It was some time before he could speak. Jamieson waited patiently for the onslaught to begin.
'What right have you to say such a thing?' rasped Thelwell hoarsely.
Jamieson was taken aback by Thelwell's reaction to what he had said for, even by Thelwell's standards, the result had been dramatic. He had the distinct feeling that Thelwell's exaggerated reaction to any kind of criticism might indicate some underlying clinical disorder. He said, 'Mr Thelwell, this kind of conversation is getting us nowhere. I suggest we talk again after your series of tests and after the police investigation into Dr Richardson's death.'
'What investigation? The man committed suicide.'
'That's for the police to decide when they have gathered all the facts.'
'What facts? What are you suggesting?'
'I'm not suggesting anything but they will probably want to know why you were seen near the bacteriology lab at eight o'clock last night.'
Thelwell turned so pale that Jamieson thought he must faint. He did not but he appeared to grow very weak. He clutched the edge of the table. 'By whom?' he whispered.
'By me,' replied Jamieson.
'I see.'
Thelwell hung his head and there was silence in the room for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke again. 'I don't suppose you will believe this but I just went there to have it out with him about the test. I didn't intend to but when I was passing the hospital on my way to choir practice I saw his light on and I called in on him.'
'And?'
'He was dead when I went in, hanging from the beam like a carcase in a butcher's shop.
'Why didn't you call the police?' asked Jamieson quietly.
'Because of what people would think. Because of what you are thinking now.'
'What I think is not important. It's the police you have to convince.'
Gordon Thomas Thelwell was questioned by the police for over two hours that same afternoon. He was allowed to go home shortly after five and Jamieson, who had been waiting for the outcome at the lab, took a call from Ryan. 'We've let him go,' said Ryan.
'What convinced you?' asked Jamieson.
'The PM report suggests that it could have been suicide. There were no other signs of injury and the man had been under severe stress. It would have been better if he had left a note but there we have it. If we don't have a murder we can't have a killer.'
'What did you think of Thelwell?' asked Jamieson.
'A weirdo,' replied Ryan. 'If you ask me Richardson wasn't the only one suffering from stress in that hospital of yours.'
Jamieson had a short meeting with Carew to discuss the re-scheduling of the surgery lists in Gynaecology and the continuing microbiological investigation into the cause of the outbreak.
'Doctor Evans will be in charge of Bacteriology until a locum consultant is appointed. Phillip Morton will continue to operate in Gynaecology but only on emergency cases meantime.’
'I've requested that a small team from the Public Health Department be called in to help with the investigation,' said Jamieson.
'What exactly will they be doing?' asked Carew.
'Just what Richardson's people have been doing all along,' replied Jamieson. 'Taking swabs from all the likely places in the theatres and wards and hoping to get lucky. The more people we have doing it the better our chances.'
'Do you still want the Pseudomonas culture?' asked Moira Lippman when Jamieson came into the lab on the following morning.
Jamieson, who had temporarily forgotten about the biochemistry he had planned to carry out, thought for a moment and then decided that he might as well go ahead with the tests. It would give him something to do while he waited to see if the surgical infection problem would re-occur. He said that he did and would make a start immediately. Moira Lippman smiled and helped him to gown up.
Jamieson found the lab work therapeutic, a brief respite from wrestling with the greater problems of the hospital. He was not familiar enough with the protocols involved in setting up the tests that he could perform them without thinking, so he had to concentrate on what he was doing and refer to lab manuals where necessary. While he was doing that he could not think about anything else.
Just before he was about to return to the residency in late afternoon, Jamieson had a call from Thelwell. His heart sank when he heard Thelwell's voice but the surgeon had calmed down considerably since their last meeting. 'What can I do for you Mr Thelwell?' he asked.
'I have just had my second negative swab result from the Public Health Service lab,' said Thelwell.
'I'm delighted to hear it,' said Jamieson.
'I would now like to return to my lists,' said Thelwell.
'Three negatives are needed, Mr Thelwell,' said Jamieson, feeling as if he had just lit a fuse.
'This is bureaucratic nonsense and you know it!' declared Thelwell.
'We've already been through this. Three please, Mr Thelwell,' said Jamieson.
Thelwell put the phone down on Jamieson.
'And you Mr Thelwell,' said Jamieson under his breath as he put his own receiver down.
EIGHT
It was later than he had intended when the man reached the basement flat. He had hoped to be out on the streets that evening but circumstances and the meddling of outsiders had decreed that he had other things to do first. He tried to salvage some comfort from the thought that at least, he would be indoors and out of the rain. It had been raining heavily for the past six hours and the streets were flooding as storm drains gradually became overloaded. He put down his umbrella and shook the worst of the rain from it before opening and closing it quickly several times to clear away some more. It made the sound of a flight of crows taking of in the darkness.
