Pestilence

by Ken McClure

  “I see,” said Saracen feeling anger rise within him, “And you are phoning to find out why a doctor who can barely speak English has been left in charge of A amp;E at Skelmore General?”

  “More or less.”

  “Well I’d like to know the answer to that too,” said Saracen getting out of the chair and gathering his clothes. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll get back to you.”

  Saracen was furious. How could Garten do such a thing? How could he be so irresponsible? His toes got stuck in the heel of a sock in his haste and he cursed out loud as he disentangled himself then he lost a shoe which led to more cursing. He slammed the door behind him and ran downstairs to the car, making a conscious effort to control his temper and prevent its translation into sheer bad driving. With only partial success in that direction the front tyres squealed as he swung the wheel over to enter the hospital gates. In truth, this was due more to the fact that he had wrenched the wheel over sharply than to any excess of speed but it made the duty porter lift his eyes from his newspaper and half get out of his chair to glance out of the gate-house window. When he saw that it was Saracen he slumped back into inertia.

  Saracen burst in through the swing doors of A amp;E and looked around for Chenhui, ignoring the smile of a junior nurse in his preoccupation. Sister Turner, the night sister, came out of the sluice room and looked surprised when she saw Saracen.

  “I didn’t realise that Dr Garten had called you,” she said.

  “He didn’t,” replied Saracen.

  “Oh, I thought when I saw you there that he must have called you out to cover for Dr Tang…”

  Saracen was puzzled. “Why should he? What’s wrong with Dr Tang?” he asked.

  “She’s had some kind of nervous breakdown. She’s been admitted to the wards.”

  Seeing that he had read the situation all wrong Saracen calmed down and felt rather foolish. “And Dr Garten?” he asked.

  “He is with her right now.”

  “So she wasn’t left on her own in A amp;E?”

  “Good heavens no, she can hardly speak a word of…”

  “Yes Sister,” interrupted Saracen. “What did you mean some kind of nervous breakdown?”

  Sister Turner, a spinster clinging to late middle age and fond of tittle tattle, warmed to her task and said conspiratorially, “I’ve never seen anything like it. She was shouting and raving, ‘practically attacked Dr Garten when he tried to calm her down.”

  “But why? What happened to upset her?”

  The night sister looked perplexed. She said “The ridiculous thing is, we don’t know. She was raving in her own language.”

  “But something must have triggered it off?”

  “Not really. It’s not as if she hadn’t seen a dead body before.”

  “Go on.”

  “We had a ‘dead on arrival’ at around eight o’clock; Dr Tang was asked to certify the patient dead. When she came back she bust into Dr Garten’s office and started shouting and carrying on.”

  “In Chinese?”

  “Not at first.”

  “Could you make out anything that was said?” asked Saracen.

  “Not much. She has such a heavy accent but it sounded like, ‘six days, more then six days.’ But I couldn’t swear to it.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “She came rushing out of Dr Garten’s office and started telephoning. Dr Garten tried to reason with her but in the end he had to get the porters to restrain her while he sedated her.”

  “And what did Dr Garten say about all this?”

  “He said that Dr Tang had been under great strain recently and was suffering from nervous exhaustion. She would probably be as right as rain in a couple of days so it would be a kindness if none of us mentioned the incident outside A amp;E.”

  Saracen nodded and said that he was going up to see Chenhui.

  Away from A amp;E the corridors of Skelmore General had quietened as they always did around nine in the evening. The last visitors had gone and custody of the wards had been handed over to the night staff. Saracen had only the echo of his footsteps for company as he made his way along the entire length of the bottom corridor to reach ward eight. He disliked the hospital at night for it had a Dickensian dreamlike quality about it, an image intensified by the poor lighting in the corridors and the peeling green paint on the walls. To be admitted at night as a patient to Skelmore General, thought Saracen, must be an unnerving experience, being wheeled headfirst on a trolley with nothing but the cobwebs and dark shadows of the ceiling vaults to concentrate on while the trolley squeaked and echoed its way along a seemingly endless tunnel to an unknown destination Poor sods.

  Saracen opened one of the two tall glass fronted doors to ward eight and went in. He winced as the door creaked loudly on its hinges but no one came out to investigate. He looked into the duty room and got a quizzical look from the staff nurse in charge. He said who he was and why he was there.

  “She’s in the second side ward. Dr Garten is still with her.”

  Saracen went in search of the side ward. He went inside and closed the door quietly behind him. Nigel Garten was sitting beside Chenhui who seemed fast asleep. He looked up as Saracen came in and looked startled but recovered his composure quickly. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said with a smile that seemed less than genuine.

  “I had a telephone call,” said Saracen.

  “Really? Who?”

  Saracen was slightly taken aback at Garten’s directness but he answered anyway. “Dave Moss at the County.”

  “Ah yes, Dr Tang’s phone call,” said Garten. He seemed relieved that it had not been one of the A amp;E staff who had phoned Saracen.

  “And what did Dr Moss tell you?” probed Garten.

  “He thought that Chenhui had been left on her own in charge of A amp;E,” said Saracen looking directly at Garten.

  “Hardly,” said Garten slowly and quietly, his eyes holding Saracen’s gaze as if looking for a challenge. The strained smile on his face was maintained as if carved in rock.

  “How is she?” asked Saracen.

  “Out for the count. She’ll feel better after a good sleep.”

  “What happened exactly?”

  “A sudden emotional outburst, complete loss of control. I blame myself of course; I should have seen it coming. She’s just not up to the job. I should have said something to the board months ago but I was sorry for her, wanted to give her every chance.” Garten looked at the floor in a display of mock self condemnation.

  Saracen was glad that Garten was looking at the floor otherwise he might have seen the look of distaste on his face. He had never disliked Garten as much before as he did at that moment. He looked at Chenhui, sleeping peacefully and moved over to the bed to feel her pulse; it was slow and regular. He noted the drip feed going into her other arm and asked Garten, “What are you giving her?”

  “Heminevrin.”

  “That’s a bit drastic isn’t it?”

  “I deemed it necessary,” replied Garten with more than a hint of coldness in his voice.

  Saracen felt the temperature drop and changed the subject. “Sister Turner said something about Chenhui dealing with a death in A amp;E when all this came on?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. The man was dead on arrival.”

  “I see, so it’s a complete mystery what triggered off Chenhui’s outburst?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “She does seem to have been under some kind of increased strain recently,” ventured Saracen.

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” replied Garten.

  Saracen got to his feet and said, “I’m here now, I’ll work Chenhui’s shift with you if you like.”.

  “Wouldn’t hear of it old boy,” said Garten so quietly that Saracen thought he detected menace in it. ” You go on home.”

  Saracen had to work hard to keep the astonishment off his face. “All right,” he said and left.

  Chapter Five


  Saracen returned to A amp;E and phoned Dave Moss with an explanation of what had happened.

  “That’s rough,” said Moss. “I sometimes feel like screaming myself. Where is she now?”

  Saracen told Moss that Chenhui was under heavy sedation.

  “Did you get what you wanted from Peter Clyde this morning?” asked Moss.

  “No, the autopsy must have been one of Cyril Wylie’s.

  “Couldn’t Clyde have checked Wylie’s files for you?”

  “He tried. They were locked.”

  Moss snorted and said, “That sounds like Cyril all right. Paranoid old bugger. How important is this?”

  “Very,” replied Saracen.

  “And you really can’t go through channels?”

  “It’s not a case of avoiding channels,” said Saracen feeling uncomfortable about not confiding in Moss. “It’s just that I don’t want Garten to know I’ve been asking about the case.”

  “Oh I see,” said Moss. “It’s one of Garten’s cases. I can see the problem. Moss knew about Saracen’s past dealings with authority. “Look, I can’t promise anything but give me the patient’s name and I’ll see what I can come up with. Wylie is doing a PM for us tomorrow. If I get a chance to nip into his office while he’s occupied I will do.”

  “I’d be in your debt,” said Saracen. “The name is Myra Archer. She died on the night of the twelfth.”

  “Anything in particular you want me to look for?” asked Moss.

  “The cause of death was given as cardiac arrest and she was also said to be suffering from a Salmonella infection. I’d like to know if the PM confirmed that or if there was more to it.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Saracen put down the phone thoughtfully. Moss’ offer was something he had not foreseen; he made a mental note to buy him dinner.

  “Will you be working tonight Dr Saracen?” asked Sister Turner who had come up behind him. Saracen took pleasure in watching the flicker of surprise appear on her face when he replied that Garten would be covering A amp;E on his own. A comment almost passed her lips but Saracen saw her stifle it and replace it with a professional “Very good Doctor.”

  “About the death that Dr Tang was asked to certify Sister?”

  “There’s not much to say. The patient was one Leonard Cohen a sixty-four year old man, retired, living alone. He had been dead for a good few hours.”

  “I take it the body is in the mortuary?”

  “Yes, or rather, no. I mean I’m not sure.”

  Saracen waited for her to explain.

  “Dr Garten said something about the refrigeration system playing up again. He said he was going to contact a firm of undertakers to see if they could help out. I’m not sure if he did in all the commotion or whether the body is still there. You could ask the porter.”

  Saracen found the duty porter tidying up a clutter of wheel chairs in the corridor outside X-Ray. He asked him about the dead man.

  “The undertakers took him away about thirty minutes ago Doc. Was it something important?”

  “I suppose not. Do you happen to know which firm it was?”

  “Maurice Dolman and sons, Ventnor Lane.”

  “Thanks. What’s wrong with the refrigeration anyway?”

  Dr Garten said that the compressor was losing gas and the temperature was rising.”

  Saracen nodded and turned away. He walked back along the corridor without seeing anything for his mind was working. It was happening again! Garten, Chenhui, a dead patient. What the hell was going on? He turned into A amp;E to say good night to the nurses but found it deserted. He could hear voices coming from the duty room where they were having tea.

  Saracen was about to walk over when his gaze fell on the small wooden cupboard that held the mortuary key for the night porter. A moment’s hesitation then he gave in to the impulse to tip toe towards it and take it silently from its hook. He sidled out of the room again, holding his breath and grimacing with the concentration of moving soundlessly.

  It had started to rain outside but that did not diminish Saracen’s relief at being safely out in the dark. He kept to the shadows and hurried down the hill to the mortuary to unlock the tall wooden doors and step inside.

  Everything was still and silent. He felt for the light switch on the wall with his flattened palm and found it at the second attempt. It was loose in its mounting and a slight trickle of plaster fell to the floor when he pressed it. At first glance nothing appeared to be amiss but Saracen had to admit that he had no real idea of what he was looking for. He crossed the floor and examined the temperature gauge; the needle was reading high, just as it would if the compressor had failed. Saracen pulled back the heavy metal clamp on one of the body vaults and swung the door open to reveal the empty interior. He absent mindedly slid out one of the three trays and pushed it back with the heel of his hand before closing the vault and moving on to the next one. It was empty too, as was the third but the fourth and last one was not. There were two bodies inside.

  Saracen stared at the white linen covered heads, unable to think why they should still be there. Why, if the compressor had really failed, had not all the bodies been removed? He pulled out each tray in turn and read the labels. Anne Hartman, Maud Finnegan. The shrouds were still cold but had started to feel damp with the rising temperature. Maybe there had been a number of bodies in the vaults thought Saracen and they were being transferred in relays. He found the mortuary register and checked on the idea. It proved wrong. There were only two bodies listed for the vaults, Hartman and Finnegan and they were still there so only one body could have been taken away by the undertakers, that of Leonard Cohen, Chenhui’s dead on arrival case. It was beginning to look as if the story of a compressor failure had been a subterfuge for the quick removal of Cohen’s body from the hospital. On the other hand the refrigeration unit did seem to be out of action.

  Saracen examined the small door in the housing that covered the machinery and saw that it was secured by three screws. He fetched a screwdriver from the tool drawer and undid them. There was no smell of burning or any sign of damaged wiring so he began a systematic check. He traced the path of the main cable to the motor and then all the lines to subsidiary units and switches, finding nothing amiss until he looked at the mounting panel. There was a hole in it.

  Saracen took a closer look and saw that the hole should have held a circuit breaker fuse. It had been removed. Could that be all that was wrong with the unit? he wondered, excited at the thought of having discovered deliberate sabotage. He searched through the tool drawer again and found a replacement fuse and holder but fitting it was going to be awkward for the panel was tucked up behind the wiring loom of the motor. He tried first from the right hand side but found that he could not reach so he changed his position on the floor and reached in with his left hand. He could almost reach the panel; just another few centimetres would be enough. He altered position slightly again and pressed his cheek up against the side of the unit to give himself the extra distance but, as he did so, he caught sight of something black on the floor. It was the toe of a shoe. Someone was standing behind him!

  The shock of the discovery made Saracen jerk his hand back and in doing so he touched the live wiring on the side of the motor. The mains voltage shot through him like a shower of arrows flinging him backwards across the floor to land in an ungainly heap.

  Fear took precedence over pain in Saracen’s head. He looked up and saw Nigel Garten looking down at him as if he were a stain on the ground.

  “What on earth do you think you are doing?” demanded Garten.

  “I thought I could fix the fridge,” replied Saracen weakly.

  “We have engineers for that sort of thing,” said Garten coldly, “Unless this is a particular hobby of yours?”

  Saracen felt foolish and it made him aggressive. “I think someone removed the circuit breaker,” he said, staring Garten straight in the eye.

  “I did,” said Garten calmly. “The c
ompressor was leaking gas. I didn’t want anyone switching the unit back on and ruining it.”

  “I see,” said Saracen, feeling more foolish than ever. “Perhaps you can also tell me why only one body was removed and why two were left behind?”

  Garten stared down at Saracen in silence then he said slowly, “I beg your pardon?”

  “I asked why only one body had been removed and two left behind,” said Saracen, feeling intimidated.

  “Could it be that the undertakers’ vehicle can only accommodate two bodies at the one time? Three bodies equals…two trips?”

  “Could be,” agreed Saracen quietly and now feeling absolutely ridiculous. He got to his feet and started to brush himself down for his clothes were in a mess. Garten looked at him distastefully and said curtly, “I’ll bid you good-night. Lock up before you go.”

  Saracen went back to the locker room in A amp;E to change his clothes for he kept a spare set there as necessary insurance against periodic dousing with blood, vomit or whatever. Mercifully he met no one and was able to leave again without having to offer an explanation to anyone. As he left the building a posse of policemen were escorting four drunken men through the swing doors. They had been involved in some kind of violent confrontation by the look of them and two were still trying to get at each other. “All the best Nigel,” said Saracen under his breath as he got into his car and started the engine.

  When he had got over the burning embarrassment of having been discovered in the mortuary by Garten, Saracen saw that he could still be right. The removal of the circuit breaker might still have been the only thing wrong with the refrigeration unit. Garten’s glib explanation might have been nothing more than a lie. It could still all have been an excuse for the quick removal of Cohen’s body. But why? Unlike Myra Archer Cohen was definitely dead when he arrived at Skelmore General so there was no question of any mistake having been made or any delay being involved this time. What was Garten afraid of? Saracen decided that there was now a second post-mortem report he would have to take a look at.