put down the receiver and rested his hand on it while he thought it through. Adrenalin was coursing through his veins and a maelstrom of ideas and motives was swirling inside his head as he saw himself on the very brink of solving the whole affair.
Blaney was in charge of CSSD. That gave him every opportunity to interfere with sterilised packs of instruments, dressings or whatever. Maybe he was a willing accomplice to Thelwell? That would explain how the dressings and the saline could have been contaminated after apparently having been properly sterilised. Blaney could have contaminated the packs before distribution to the wards! Or maybe it was just Blaney all the time? Maybe Thelwell had had nothing whatever to do with the infections!
Jamieson's mind was running on overdrive. He needed something to slow him down and he found it when he tried to work out how Blaney could have gotten hold of the deadly organisms to carry out the contaminating procedures? Jamieson's theory ground to a halt as he failed to solve this part of the puzzle. But one thing was for sure, he had some questions for Mr Blaney to answer and if it should turn out that Blaney was responsible for what had happened to Sue there was a personal score to settle.
Jamieson knew that he was doing the wrong thing in deciding to tackle Blaney on his own. He knew that emotional involvement was not a sensible basis for action and what he should be doing was waiting for Ryan to turn up so that he could be presented with all the facts. Despite all this, he found the personal motive too strong. He got up from his desk, put on his jacket and set off for CSSD.
Jamieson marched towards CSSD with cold determination. He thought about what Sue had suffered and of the baby they both had lost. He had no real idea what he was going to say to Blaney but this did not make him alter his pace at all. He pushed open both swing doors and entered the steamy heat of the approach corridor.
The preparation benches where the attendants packed instruments were deserted. Jamieson looked at his watch and saw that it was lunch time. Perhaps Blaney would be out at lunch too. He walked past the row of gleaming sterilisers and up to the door of Blaney's office. He pushed open the door.
Blaney was sitting there, eating sandwiches. He stopped as he saw Jamieson, a sandwich suspended in mid air between his desk and his mouth. His eyes displayed a mixture of disbelief and surprise as he saw Jamieson standing there. 'Yes?'
Jamieson just stared at Blaney. He was picturing him with a wig and false moustache. He looked at the fat podgy hand that had slid under Sue's skirt with the object of increasing her terror and it had.
'What do you want?' stammered Blaney.
Jamieson could read the guilt on Blaney's face and he felt the anger rise inside him. 'You bastard!' he said with cold deliberation.
Blaney had started to get up slowly from his chair and back away but there was nowhere for him to go. 'What are you talking about?' he said as he looked out of the corner of his eyes for an escape route.
'It's over, Blaney. But before the police can have you I want a piece of you for what you did to Sue.'
Blaney stopped all pretence of innocence. His bottom lip quivered. 'You killed Gordon Thelwell!' he accused, 'You drove him to it! You hounded him until he took his own life. You killed him! You are responsible! He meant everything to me and you took him away. You deserved to suffer! You deserved to go through what I went through.'
Fired by his own rhetoric, Blaney threw the contents of the coffee cup he was holding directly into Jamieson's face. The coffee wasn’t very hot but the liquid temporarily blinded Jamieson and Blaney took the opportunity to rush past him to the door.
Jamieson stuck out his foot and Blaney crashed headlong out of the door into the sterilising hall. But by the time Jamieson had cleared his eyes and could see properly again Blaney was back up on his feet and had picked up a steel dish full of instruments lying in antiseptic solution.
Jamieson put up his hands to protect himself as a hail of scalpels and forceps flew through the air towards him. Several small cuts opened up on the backs of his hands and on his scalp but he ignored them as he again moved towards Blaney. He stopped when he saw that Blaney had picked up a post-mortem knife. Jamieson found himself mesmerised by the long blade which swept out from the black, bone handle held tightly in Blaney's fist.
The fact that Jamieson had stopped in his tracks gave Blaney a surge of confidence. He gave a half smile and said breathily, 'Come on then Dr bloody smart-arse Jamieson. What are you waiting for? Changed our tune, have we?'
Jamieson had indeed changed his tune. The folly of his angry headstrong action in confronting Blaney alone had now come home to roost. He stared at the razor sharp blade in Blaney's hand, a blade that was no stranger to the insides of a human being.
'Who did it Blaney?' he croaked. 'Who contaminated the instruments and the dressings and the saline? You? Or was it Thelwell? Maybe it was both of you? You sick bastard.'
A look of puzzlement crossed Blaney's face. 'What the hell are you talking about?' he demanded.
'Is that how you two got your kicks? A couple of old queens against a world of women eh?'
'You're mad,' said Blaney. He lunged at Jamieson with the knife. It was the angry reaction that Jamieson had been goading him into. Jamieson side-stepped smartly and grabbed at Blaney's knife arm as he lost balance. He twisted Blaney's arm up his back but Blaney remained upright as Jamieson tried to break his grip on the knife.
Jamieson was concentrating too hard on the knife to be prepared for Blaney's sudden drop to the floor. With his centre of gravity undermined it was all too easy for Blaney to tumble Jamieson over his shoulder and send him sliding across the tiles to crash into a table by the wall. The table was knocked over and steel dishes fell to the floor as Jamieson struggled to regain orientation.
Jamieson recovered in time to see Blaney rush towards him, knife held aloft, his eyes betraying an anger beyond reason. In a desperate last ditch attempt to protect himself Jamieson raised both feet and caught Blaney in mid lunge. The Charge Nurse's momentum took him clean over Jamieson's head and he hit his skull against the tiled wall with a sickening crack.
Jamieson lay still for a moment recovering his breath. There was no question of Blaney still being a threat. After such a blow to his head the nurse must certainly be unconscious if not dead. Jamieson got to his feet slowly and went over to where Blaney lay. He felt for a pulse and found one with ease; it was strong and regular. 'You've got a head like a rock Blaney,' he said to the unconscious man as he tied his hands behind his back using lengths of gauze. Satisfied that Blaney was secure for the moment he called the police.
Jamieson reckoned that he had at least five minutes before the police arrived, probably a bit more. He looked down at where Blaney lay and felt frustrated. There were so many things he wanted to know, things he felt that Blaney could tell him if only he were conscious. The steel dishes lying on the floor decided him. He filled one with cold water and, feeling like a baddie in a war film, he threw it in Blaney's face. Blaney did not stir so Jamieson repeated the operation until he did.
As Blaney uttered the first groans of consciousness, Jamieson started to question him. 'Come on Blaney, how did you do it? How did you contaminate the instruments and dressings?'
Blaney put a hand to his head and looked around him groggily. Jamieson repeated the question.
'Don't be ridiculous,' groaned Blaney. 'That was nothing to do with me.'
'You mean it was Thelwell?'
'You stupid bastard. Is that what you think? You think that Gordon and I murdered the patients?' Blaney snorted and gave a humourless guffaw. Christ, you must be desperate for an idea.'
'You gave all the instruments for Gynaecology to Thelwell instead of having them sent to the wards by porter. Why?'
'You know why, damn it! Gordon told you. He was worried about the possibility of the instruments being interfered with so he collected them immediately after they had been sterilised for safe keeping until such times as they were required.'
'Or until he had contaminated them with deadly bacteria,' said Jamieson.
'Deadly bacteria!' snorted Blaney. 'Where the hell would Gordon get deadly bacteria? He was a surgeon for Christ's sake!'
Jamieson avoided a question he could not answer. 'Tell me about Thelwell's missed choir practices.'
'Gordon and I used to meet once a week. It was all we could risk without avoiding suspicion. We used to drive out to a hotel but when my sister went abroad on holiday I 'borrowed' the key to her apartment and we used that for the month she was away.'
'Why did Thelwell kill himself if it wasn't because of the murders?' asked Jamieson.
