me?'
Deyo-a tall, husky man in a fine grey pinstripe suit-glanced at a notebook in his hand. His voice was rich and deep. 'Nothing's concocted, Dr. Fletcher. By your actions you've left us with no other choice but to notify the district attorney's of-fice. Bayside cannot be perceived as an institution that con-dones illegal, clandestine experiments. Some likely charges will be performing experimental surgery without authoriza-tion. Failure to secure informed consent for same. Battery. Kidnapping. Child endangerment. Improper disposal of fetal tissue samples-'
Fletcher's voice growled low and surly. 'Renata wasn't a tis-sue sample, damn you. She was a baby.' She stared at him with a strange, murderous gaze.
'Well, if you want to go that route, they can get you on the other charges I mentioned.' He leaned toward her. 'But let me tell you this. The DA's going to get you on something. You ripped a baby out of a woman and sold it. And make no mis-take, that's how the newspapers will present it.' Fletcher continued to gaze at him, unblinking. 'I saved the life of a child who'd be dead now if not for-'
'I suggest,' Dr. Lawrence interjected sharply, 'that we hold such arguments for the DA and right now just find a way to moderate the impact of all this. Surely you must see the sense in that, don't you, Evelyn?'
Fletcher laughed. 'There's no way you can moderate this. You had eight years to consider all the arguments pro and con. You waffled and fence straddled until transoption finally rose up to bite you.'
'Evelyn.' Dr. Cospe spoke in level, sympathetic tones. He was smaller than Dr. Fletcher, spare and balding. He sat in the chair next to Dr. Lawrence and gazed at her calmly. 'What you don't seem to understand is that such delays are an im-portant part of the ethical review process. A cooling-off time, if you will. We're dealing with a procedure that involves a high degree of morbidity and risk to the reproductive potential of two women per operation. It is obvious from your initial pro-posals that you viewed surgical embryo transfer as some sort of universal solution to the problems of both abortion and in-fertility.'
He leaned one elbow on an armrest to support the side of his head in the palm of his hand. In that position, he contin-ued.
'That was eight years ago, as you noted. In that intervening time, such procedures as in vitro fertilization and non-surgi-cal ovum transfer have solved virtually all problems of infer-tility. The prospect of safe abortifacient drugs promises to re-solve the abortion debate.'
'It does not,' Fletcher said. 'It just hides the problem-'
'May I finish?' Cospe's voice never shifted from its soft tim-bre. 'All right, then. Contraceptive technology is proceeding at such a pace that unwanted pregnancies will soon be a thing of the past. Will you admit that at that point transoption will be obsolete?'
'Mostly,' Evelyn said grudgingly. 'But there'll always be someone who-' Cospe raised his other hand. 'Just let me finish. The reason ethics committees grapple so long with such difficult ques-tions as the right to life of a fetus or of risks of morbidity to the mother is that occasionally the passage of time will make such questions moot. You acted in haste. You chose to perform an operation that in a few years will-in all likelihood-be use-less or at least extremely rare.'
'Well,' Fletcher said, lighting up a cigarette, 'it's damned useful right now. And if I had done this five years ago and it had caught on, there might be a few million kids alive today who are dead now.'
'Oh, that'd be great,' Deyo said from a corner of the office. 'Think of the population mess we'd be in. The world's over-crowded now. Abortion may be the only thing keeping us from Malthusian disaster.'
Dr. Lawrence cleared his throat. 'Do you see what over-whelming issues we've had to contend with in this?'
'None of these considerations were in your report,' Fletcher said. She blew a puff of smoke in Lawrence's direction. 'You're making it all up on the spot.' She turned toward Deyo. 'As for overpopulation, I've heard predictions of doom every time the world added another billion. Did it ever occur to you that one of the children from those extra millions might grow up to be the genius who'll find a solution to hunger or war? How many potential Einsteins have been aborted in the last eight years?' Deyo snorted. 'About as many as potential Charlie Mansons.' Fletcher narrowed her eyes. 'We obviously have two differ-ent views of human potential. If an abundance of people wor-ries you so much, you can always rectify the matter, starting with yourself.'
'Doctor Fletcher,' said Lawrence in a strict tone. 'There is no need to stoop to insult. The ethics subcommittee has no choice in this matter but to notify the district attorney imme-diately. To do otherwise would expose this institution to a se-vere liability.'
'Which we may not be able to avoid, anyway,' Deyo added. 'If Dr. Fletcher's criminal intent can be demonstrated-'
'What crime?' Fletcher asked, stubbing out her cigarette angrily. 'Show me where the crime is. Valerie Dalton came in for a pregnancy termination. She received one. Karen Chan-dler came in to get pregnant. She got pregnant. If there's any crime there, I can't see it. If anything, I made efficient use of lab equipment by recycling the fetus.'
'That's enough!' Lawrence picked up the telephone and punched a button. 'Sherry? Get me the district attorney's of-fice. Yes. Frawley himself.' He gazed at Fletcher. 'We'll see what he has to say.' ' Someone had called the reporters. Lawrence and the others watched from the administrator's office window as two scream-ing police
