introducing it into the machine. She pressed a button and the analyser began its process.
'Amazing,' said Fenton, 'But what happens when the temperature varies and the sampler takes up more or less blood. The readings will be all wrong.'
'That's where you are wrong old boy,' said Saxon with a smile. 'The plastic is special. It's thermo-neutral; it doesn't go soft when it warms up and it doesn't go hard when it's cold. It's always the same. Well what do you think?'
Fenton admitted that he was impressed. Saxon beamed at his reaction.
'I suppose this stuff costs a fortune,' said Fenton.
Saxon smiled again. 'Actually it doesn't,' he said, 'It costs very little more than conventional plastics.'
'But the potential for it must be enormous,' said Fenton.
Saxon shook his head and said, 'We thought so too at first but the truth is it's just not strong enough to be useful in the big money affairs like defence and space technology. But for medical uses, of course, it doesn't have to be. We've manufactured a range of test tubes, bottles, tubing etc from it which will cost only a fraction more than the stuff in use at present. We think the advantages will outweigh the extra cost and hospitals will start changing to Saxon equipment. '
'I take it you have a patent on the plastic?'
'Of course,' smiled Saxon.
'It sounds like a winner,' said Fenton.
'We think so too. We are so confident that we have gifted a three month supply of our disposables to the Princess Mary.'
'That was generous,' conceded Saxon.
'Well you were kind enough to put our Blood Analyser through its paces for the licensing board, it seemed the least we could do.'
A printer started to chatter and Susan Daniels removed a strip of paper from the tractor feed. 'All done,' she said.
Fenton accepted the paper and looked at the figures. 'Normal blood,' he said.
'A control sample,' said Susan Daniels.
'How do the figures compare with the ones given by our own analyser?'
'Almost identical and the Saxon performed the analysis on one fifth of the blood volume and in half the time.'
'Maybe Saxon will gift us one of their machines as well as the Tupperware.' said Fenton, tongue in cheek.
Nigel Saxon smiled and said, 'There has to be a limit even to our generosity.'
Susan Daniels handed Fenton a sheaf of papers. 'These are the results of the final tests. You'll need them for the report.'
Saxon said to Fenton, 'I hate to press you at a time like this but have you any idea when the final report will be ready?'
'End of next week I should think.'
Fenton left the room to return upstairs but paused at the foot of the stairs when he saw a small puddle of water lying in the stair well. He looked up and saw a raindrop fall from the cupola and splash into the puddle. 'All we need,' he muttered, going to fetch a bucket from glassware preparation room. He placed the bucket under the drip before calling in to the chief technician's room. 'The roof's leaking Alex.'
'Again?' said Alex Ross with a shake of the head. 'It's only two months since they repaired it.' He made a note on his desk pad and said he would inform the works department.
When he got back to his own lab Fenton found Ian Ferguson, one of the two basic grade biochemists on the staff, hard at work. He looked up as Fenton entered and said, 'Dr Tyson asked me to cover for you.'
'He told me. Thanks. How's business?'
'Brisk,' smiled Ferguson. 'But I think everything's under control. There are a couple of things I think you better look at but apart from that it's been largely routine.'
Fenton picked up the two request forms that Ferguson had put to one side and nodded. 'I'll deal with them,' he said. “You can go back to your own work now if you like. I can manage now.'
Ferguson got up and tidied the bench before leaving. As he turned to go Fenton said to him, 'Did Neil mention anything to you about requesting blood from the Transfusion Service?'
Ferguson turned and shook his head. 'No, nothing,'
Fenton made his third attempt at phoning Dr Ian Michaelson. This time he was successful. He asked about the special blood monitoring that had been requested and Michaelson explained what he had in mind. 'We could postpone the tests for a week or two if you can't cope after what's happened,' said Michaelson.
'But it would be better for the patient if they were done this week?' asked Fenton
'Yes.'
Fenton did some calculations in his head, equating the required tests to man hours. 'We'll manage,' he said. Next he contacted the cardiac unit about the proposed by-pass operations and learned that there were now three on the schedules instead of two. 'This is not good news,' he said. Once again he was asked if the lab could cope. 'Some of us won't be going home too much,' he replied, 'But we'll manage.'
Despite the fact that Ferguson had cleared most of the morning blood tests Fenton found himself busy for most of the afternoon. He found it therapeutic for it was impossible for him to dwell on anything other than the work in hand but at four thirty he was disturbed by the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs. He looked out from his room and asked one of the junior technicians, what was wrong.
'It's Susan,' the girl replied, 'She's been taken ill.'
TWO
Fenton ran downstairs to find Susan Daniels lying on the floor outside the ladies' lavatory. She was surrounded by people giving conflicting advice. Help her up! No, don't move her. Loosen her clothing! Keep her warm!
'What happened?' he asked.
'She fainted when she came out the toilet,' said a voice.
'She's bleeding!' said another voice.
'I've sent for Dr Tyson,' said Alex Ross. Tyson was the only member of the staff to be medically qualified, the others being purely scientists.
Fenton knelt down beside the prostrate girl and felt her forehead; it was cold and clammy. 'Who said she was bleeding?' he asked.
Liz Scott, the lab secretary knelt down beside him and said quietly, 'There's blood all over the floor in the toilet.'
Fenton reached his hand under the unconscious girl's thighs and felt her skirt wet and sticky. 'She's haemorrhaging!' he said, 'Get some towels!' The crowd dispersed. 'Was Susan pregnant?' Fenton asked Alex Ross.
'If she was she never said,' replied the chief technician.
'She seems to be having a miscarriage,' said Fenton.
'Poor lass.'
Someone handed Fenton a bundle of clean linen towels. He folded one and pushed it up between Susan Daniels' legs then followed it with another. He was relieved when Charles Tyson arrived on the scene to take over. He stood up and noticed one of the juniors wince at the sight of his blood soaked hand.
'She's lost a lot,' said Tyson, 'We'll have to get her over to the main hospital.'
Responsibility passed from Tyson to two nurses in casualty who wheeled Susan Daniels into a side room leaving Tyson and Fenton waiting in the long corridor outside where they sat on a wooden bench in silence. Fenton leaned his head back against the wall and turned to look along the length of the corridor. An orderly was buffing the linoleum with an electric polisher in a steady side to side motion some forty metres away at the other end. A nurse,
