Chameleon (33 page)

'She used my name but she never mentioned it.'

'What did the report say?'

'I brought it home with me. I'll have to work on it.'

'Does this mean you're going to spend the evening upstairs?' asked Sue.

'A little while,' said Jamieson. He kissed her hair. 'Won't be too long. I promise.'

Jamieson paused to look out of the study window at the willow tree in the garden. He always thought that it looked best at dusk, its branches drooping to touch the lawn as if weary from a long day’s work. The trees on the far side of the cricket field were silhouetted against the evening sky. Jamieson drew the curtains, switched on the desk lamp and sat down.

Moira Lippman had asked for a full biochemical analysis on the Staphylococcus organism and this had been carried out by the Sci-Med people. Some of the tests had been duplicated for they had already been done at Kerr Memorial by Moira herself. A summary of the results said that the bug was a coagulase positive
Staphylococcus
, highly pathogenic to man and resistant to many of the branded therapeutic agents tested. If it had not been for the fact that Moira Lippman had remembered about the Loromycin trial and the fact that the drug had subsequently been found to be effective against the bug, as many as two dozen women at Kerr Memorial might have died. Unfortunately for two of them, Loromycin treatment had come along too late to save them. Ironically, one had been Moira's sister in law.

Jamieson read through the list of biochemical results and decided that he needed help in deciphering what they all meant. He got down his copy of 'Bergey's Manual of Determinative Bacteriology' from the shelf above the desk and looked up Staphylococcus in the index. It had been a while since the book had been opened. It had collected a thick film of dust along its top. Jamieson blew as much of it away as possible before opening it at the index. He turned to the tables giving the information he needed and copied out the normal values for the biochemical tests listed in the report.

As he compared them with the results from the Sci-Med lab he began to see discrepancies and by the time he had finished he had discovered that four of the lab results did not agree with Bergey's idea of how a standard Staphylococcus should behave.

'Just like the
Pseudomonas
,' muttered Jamieson remembering that the same situation had arisen with that organism. Is this what Moira Lippman had wanted to talk about? What did it mean?

'Scott! It's half past ten,' came Sue's voice from downstairs. 'You promised!'

Jamieson automatically looked at his watch. He hadn't realised how time had been passing. 'Coming,' he replied. He closed the book slowly and put it back up on its shelf. The report was telling him something. He couldn't quite put his finger on it yet but it had to have something to do with this constant variation of the bugs from text book values. As he cleared his notes away he decided that he would have to give the matter some more thought. For the moment, it could wait.

Eight days passed before Jamieson heard from Sci-Med again. Sue and he had been out for the evening and the telephone was ringing when they got back to the cottage just after eleven.

'Jamieson here.'

'Ah, got you at last. Macmillan here.'

Jamieson looked at the clock on the wall. If Macmillan were calling him at this time something must be wrong.

'Trouble I'm afraid,' said Macmillan.

Jamieson experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had come to know that when the smooth velvety tones of the establishment actually used words like 'trouble' it almost invariably meant something a good deal worse.

'What's happened?'

'There's been another outbreak of post-operative infection at Kerr Memorial. In gynaecology again.'

Jamieson closed his eyes as the words drilled through him destroying all the good effects of the evening. He felt the energy drain from him as if a tap had been opened. 'Go on,' he said. The words were hoarse; he had to clear his throat before he could say any more.

'It's bad I'm afraid. Eight women are affected.'

'And the cause?'

'The bug hasn't been identified yet but Phillip Morton with some impromptu detective work has narrowed the possibilities down to a batch of saline drip packs. The lab is analysing them right now.

'I'll get back up there,' said Jamieson. 'In the meantime there's something I'd like you to organise with the Sci-Med lab.'

'Go on.'

'I want them to get their hands on as many unauthorised antibiotics as possible.'

'Unauthorised?' exclaimed Macmillan.

'Yes, drugs that the pharmaceutical companies have not yet got a license for.'

'But why?'

'I think we can expect that there will be a treatment problem with this outbreak just like last time and the time before. The bug will be immune to standard drug treatment. If it's the Staphylococcus we can use Loromycin again but if it's the Pseudomonas we still have a problem unless your people have come up with anything in the meantime?

'Not that I've heard,' said Macmillan. 'I think we rather thought that it was all over.'

I'd like the Sci-Med lab to test both bugs against drugs that haven't been commercially available before. There's a chance some of them may be effective, just like Loromycin turned out to be. We'll be taking a risk using unlicensed antibiotics and you'll have to square it with the authorities but I think the circumstances warrant it.'

'Good thinking,' said Macmillan. 'I'll tell them.' Macmillan paused before saying, 'Look here, if you feel that you'd rather not get involved again ... I mean with your wife and all that, we'll quite understand here at Sci-Med.'

'I'll be returning to Leeds in the morning,' said Jamieson curtly.

Sue was standing looking at him when he put the phone down. 'I heard the last bit,' she said quietly.

'It's not over yet at Kerr Memorial. I have to see it through Sue. I can't leave it like this.'

'I understand,' said Sue. 'What's happened?'

Jamieson told her.

'But how?'

Jamieson shook his head and said, 'I don't know but I am going to find out if it's the last thing I do.'

Sue saw the look on Jamieson's face. She simply said, 'Of course.'

'I think it might be best if you were to go stay with your parents for a few days,' said Jamieson.

'No.' said Sue flatly.

'What?'

'I said no. I'm coming with you.'

'This is crazy! I mean after what you went through last time ...'

'Stop treating me like the little woman, will you! I'm not an object you hide in a cupboard, I'm your wife! It's our problem not just yours. I'm coming.'

It was Jamieson's turn to concede that there was no room for argument.

There was a small crowd of people at the gates of Kerr Memorial when Jamieson and Sue arrived at around eleven the following morning. Jamieson could see that some of them were carrying cameras and had the look of the Press about them.

'Looks like it's really hit the fan this time,' he said as they waited for the gateman to come over and inspect his ID card.

'I thought you'd left sir?'

'So did I.'

The gateman moved the crowd back with difficulty and opened the gate so that Jamieson could proceed. Sue felt uncomfortable with so many people looking in at her through the window. She felt like an inanimate object in a glass case and said so.

'We'd better let Crichton know that we've arrived,' said Jamieson as he brought the car to a halt outside the administrative block.

'I'll wait,' said Sue.

Jamieson got out of the car and swung the door shut with one hand before running up the steps of the main office building two at a time. His feet squeaked on the newly polished linoleum as he made his way along the corridor to Crichton's office and knocked on the door.

'Who is it?' came the voice from inside. There was a slight note of surprise in the voice and Jamieson knew that this was because he had short circuited the receptionist and secretary to come to the side door of Crichton's office.

'Jamieson,' he replied, looking round the door. 'I just popped in to say that I'm back.'

Crichton indicated that he should come in and sit down and then returned to his telephone conversation.

'I'm sorry we have no further comment to make at this time,' said Crichton. 'No nothing!' He put the phone down and rapped his fingers on the desk in frustration.

'Problems?'

Crichton raised his eyes and said, 'I'll say. One woman has died so far in this latest outbreak and three more are gravely ill. The newspapers have got hold of it and are howling for someone to blame. The Conservative group on the council are blaming bad management for falling standards of hygiene in the hospital. The Labour group are blaming Government cuts and understaffing for the problem. Either way this office seems to be the front line.'

'Has the lab report on the saline come through yet?'

'Yes, half an hour ago.'

'Is it the Pseudomonas or the Staphylococcus this time?' asked Jamieson.

'Neither,' replied Crichton.

'I don't understand,’ said Jamieson.

'I'm not sure I do either,' said Crichton adopting a pained expression. 'But the lab says that once again it is an entirely different organism.'

'A third bug!' exclaimed Jamieson. 'This is getting absolutely ridiculous.'

'The outside world agrees - and by the way, the outside world is baying at the gates...'

'I saw them on the way in,' said Jamieson.

'To them, the hospital is a cesspool of infection and we, the staff, are all doing our best to cover it up.'

'Surgery in Gynaecology has been halted?'

'Of course.'

Crichton's telephone rang again and Jamieson got to his feet to leave. 'See you later,' he whispered as Crichton picked up the receiver.

Jamieson and Sue settled in to their old room in the residency. They didn't say much for both were feeling depressed at being back. There was a knock on the door and Jamieson opened it to find Clive Evans standing there.

'I saw your car,' said Evans, scratching his head as he came in.

'So it has started all over again?' said Jamieson.

''Fraid so and worse than ever.'

'Any ideas?'

'We know that the saline drip bottles were the source of the outbreak this time. Mr Morton worked that out and thank God he did before even more women were infected.'

'Crichton tells me that it's yet another bug?'

'That's right. It's a Proteus this time and ...'

'Don't tell me. It's resistant to antibiotics just like the other two organisms?'

'I'm afraid so,' agreed Evans.

'Antibiotic synergism tests?'

'They are under way. Nothing yet.'

'Get some off to Sci-Med will you. They are going to work on it too.'

'Very well.'

'Have you had full biochemistry done on the bug?' asked Jamieson.

'Not yet. There hasn't been time.'

'Sci-Med will do that too. Get the bug to them as quickly as possible and then we can have a look at all three reports.'

'Three?' asked Evans.

'Oh yes I didn't tell you. Moira Lippman had the Staphylococcus analysed by the Sci-Med lab. I think that that's what she wanted to speak to us about before she died.'

'Really?' said Evans. 'What did the report say?'

'There are several discrepancies between the actual report and how the book says a Staphylococcus should behave just like there was in the case of the other bug.'

'Did your people have any comment to make about that?' asked Evans.

'I haven't asked them yet. I was lulled into believing that this business was over. But if we get the same sort of report this time there must be something in it. Something we have been missing.'

'If you like I could drive over to the county lab and ask them to carry out the tests on the latest bug? It might be quicker.' said Evans. 'We'd save a day.'

'Good idea,' said Jamieson. 'But do both. I want Sci-Med to work on the treatment angle. I'm going to be busy here tracing the history of that batch of saline and trying to find out how it got contaminated. Will you be OK on your own Sue?'

'Of course. Is there anything I can do to help?'

'I don't think so at the moment,' said Jamieson. 'How about you Clive? Need any help?'

'I'll call you if I think of anything,' said Evans. 'Thanks.'

FIFTEEN

Evans and Jamieson left Sue and walked over to the lab together, Evans to phone the county lab to warn them about the samples he would be bringing over and Jamieson to start work down in his old room in the lab.

'I've collected all the information I thought you might need about the contaminated saline,' said Evans as they reached the steps leading down to the microbiology department. 'I've left it on your desk but I don't think you will find anything there. I've already been through it pretty thoroughly. If there's anything else you need, just ask one of the technicians.'

Jamieson closed the door of the small room and took off his jacket. He sat down slowly on the swivel chair and felt depression settle on his shoulders like a lead collar. He had returned to the realms of a bad dream. There was a closed cardboard file lying on the desk in front of him; he flipped it open. He knew that he would have to examine all the files pertaining to the contaminated saline as a matter of routine but there was such a feeling of
deja vu
about it. He knew very well that all the paperwork would be perfectly in order, just as it always had in the past.

An hour later and Jamieson was proved right. The sterilization procedures had apparently been faultless; all the proper checks had been performed and there was no obvious way that the saline could have become contaminated with anything at all let alone a deadly new organism. This particular batch of saline had been delivered directly to the Gynaecology Department and of course, there could have been no interception by Thelwell this time. But despite all this, the saline had been contaminated and one woman had already died because of it.