Ingrid went out again. Dunbar got up and walked over to the window. The carpet pile felt uncomfortably deep. It reminded him of walking on the beach and how sand stole your stride pattern. His window looked out on the unremarkable main square in front of the hospital. The central area was grid-lined for parking; the road running round it was double-yellow-lined and one-way. Traffic coming in through the gate was directed to the left and brought round clockwise to pass the front doors.
As he looked towards the entrance, a long, black stretch-limousine turned in through the gates and followed the road arrows to glide silently to a halt at the steps leading up to the main door. The tint on the windows of the car was so dark that the glass almost matched the gleaming paintwork. It was impossible to see inside. The registration plate was foreign. Dunbar guessed it might be in Arabic but the angle he was looking down at made it difficult to tell.
Ingrid returned while he was watching the arrival below, and joined him at the window.
‘Our Omega patient has arrived,’ she said.
‘Omega patient?’
‘Big money. A whole wing has been reserved for her.’
The front doors of the car opened below and two men got out. Both were of Middle Eastern appearance although dressed in western clothes. The driver was wearing uniform. The other, a thickset man wearing a suit of light-grey shiny material, looked all around with eyes hidden by reflecting sunglasses before resting his hand on the rear door handle. He kept his other hand inside his jacket.
‘What on earth?’ murmured Dunbar.
Ingrid did not comment.
Having decided that the hospital and its environs posed no threat to the occupants of the car, the man in the grey suit opened the rear doors and four people got out. All were wearing Arab clothes. There were three women and one man. One of the women was obviously the patient; she was helped by the others through the front doors.
As they disappeared from sight, Dunbar craned his neck to get a better view of the rear of the car but didn’t manage to pick up any more information.
‘Do you get many Omega patients?’ he asked.
‘Not as many as we need, apparently,’ replied Ingrid with a subdued smile.
Dunbar saw the joke and smiled too. ‘I take it she’s not here for an ingrowing toenail?’
‘I really don’t know,’ replied Ingrid. ‘Patient confidentiality is very important. The staff here operate on a need-to-know basis. It’s strict company policy.’
‘Of course.’ He wondered if she really didn’t know. She struck him as being something more than an admin assistant.
Two more vehicles drew up behind the limo, one an unmarked van and the second a Renault Espace carrying six more people who got out and saw to the unloading of the van. Dunbar guessed that the chests and trunks comprised the Omega patient’s luggage. The man in the grey suit took charge of the operation. Ingrid and Dunbar turned away from the window.
‘Who do you normally work for?’ asked Dunbar.
‘I’m on Mr Giordano’s staff.’
‘Are you sure he can spare you?’
‘It was his idea that I be assigned to you.’
‘It was very good of him to spare you; he must be a very busy man.’ Dunbar looked for signs of unease in Ingrid as he spoke; he thought her eyes might give away the fact of an ulterior motive, but he saw nothing. Either it’s all above board, he thought, or Ingrid Landes is a very good actress.
‘Can I ask what sort of work you normally do?’ asked Dunbar.
‘General PA work for Mr Giordano and liaison between the various units of the hospital.’
‘You know why I’m here, I take it?’
‘You’re a watchdog, sent here by the government to protect their latest investment. A sort of guardian of the public purse.’
‘Near enough.’
‘So how can I help you get started?’
‘I’d like to see staff lists for the various units, salary sheets, monthly accounting figures for the last six months, details of any outstanding bills, details of advance bookings for hospital care and services.’
‘I think we anticipated most of these things. You’ll find copies of the relevant computer files on disks in the top drawer of your desk.’
Dunbar slid open the top drawer and found an ID badge with his name on it and a plastic wallet containing four floppy disks. He smiled and said, ‘I’m impressed. You seem to have thought of everything.’
‘We try,’ said Ingrid. ‘The people who come to this hospital are used to the best. They expect it as of right so that’s what we try to give them.’
‘Do you like working here?’
‘Absolutely,’ she replied, as if it were a stupid question. ‘We take a lot of criticism for being private, but we’re good — no one denies that. The doctors, the nurses, even the porters and cleaners, are hand-picked. When everyone knows that, there’s a certain pride about the place, an esprit de corps if you like. It makes people want to do their best. It’s not like British Rail, where all the employees feel anonymous and end up not giving a hoot about the passengers. It’s different. It’s nice. It’s the way things should be.’
Dunbar nodded. It didn’t seem likely that he would be getting any tittle-tattle or scandal from Ingrid Landes. He decided to press her a little to see how strong her loyalty was.
‘It’s a very artificial environment,’ he said.
She took the bait. ‘How so?’
‘The very fact that it’s a private hospital means you can pick and choose your clientele. That makes things a lot easier, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t think we pick and choose. We take anyone who wants to come here and-’
‘Can afford to.’
‘That’s unfair. Many of our patients are covered by health insurance, something they elect to pay for. It’s their choice. I see nothing wrong in that.’
‘That still doesn’t make you a proper hospital.’
‘I don’t see how you can say that,’ said Ingrid, annoyance creeping into her voice.
‘You’re not obliged to provide services you don’t want to. You don’t have an A amp;E department, you don’t treat VD, you’re not interested in AIDS, TB, or any infectious disease come to that, and as for Alzheimer’s or any kind of mental disorder, forget it. Medic Ecosse wouldn’t want to know.’
‘It’s true we don’t handle everything,’ she agreed defensively, ‘but we do have one of the best transplant units in the country.’
‘Indeed you do,’ said Dunbar with a grin, ‘and one of the most loyal staff members.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You were testing me!’ she exclaimed.
Dunbar raised his eyebrows slightly and pursed his lips in a display of innocence. Ingrid broke into a smile. ‘What a thing to do,’ she said.
‘Are all the staff as loyal as you?’
‘I should think so. The working conditions here are very good, the pay’s well above the going rate and the holidays generous. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this to you. You’ll probably put all that into reverse,’ laughed Ingrid.
‘Fear not,’ smiled Dunbar. ‘I don’t have any such powers and I do appreciate that if you want the best you have to pay for it. So you never have staff problems or problems with disgruntled employees?’
Ingrid frowned as she thought. ‘Not that I can recall,’ she said.
Dunbar maintained an encouraging silence.
‘Well, there was one, come to think of it,’ said Ingrid, ‘quite recently, as a matter of fact. A staff nurse in the transplant unit — I’ve forgotten her name. She started making wild allegations after the death of a patient, poor woman.’
‘What sort of allegations?’
‘One of the patients in the unit, a young girl who had been very ill for a long time, died after an unsuccessful
