‘So why do you think they are keeping the identity of this patient so secret?’ Duncan asked, his interest aroused.
Helen shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. The only logical explanation I can come up with is that he’s here to have his appearance radically altered, and he doesn’t want anyone to know about it.’
‘So he’s a fugitive from justice or something?’
‘Sounds like a plot for a bad TV movie, doesn’t it?’ she said with a wry smile.
‘A scriptwriter once told me that the most bizarre explanation is most probably the right one,’ Duncan replied.
‘What does he do? Write for the X Files?’ Helen gave an uneasy laugh. ‘That’s not even the end of it, Duncan. You know Colin, the staff nurse?’
‘Yeah,’ Duncan confirmed. ‘Nice guy.’
‘He spoke to me in confidence this morning about one of his patients, Zara Dawn, the actress. Dr Taylor has prescribed a drug for her – Ampesoman. It’s only just been developed in the States, and it’s still experimental. The drug company has recently been give permission to set up initial trials on human patients, but it’s still a long way from getting FDA approval and even further from being allowed into the UK.’
‘You checked on this?’ Duncan asked. Having lived in America for quite a while he knew that FDA were the controlling body for drugs in the States.
‘Yes, after Colin told me he discovered the pills in Zara’s room. Ben Taylor has given them to her, but there’s no record of the treatment in her hospital files. As far as the Princess Beatrice is concerned Zara isn’t even on the drug; if they don’t know then neither will her GP.’
‘Why would Dr Taylor do this?’
‘Cold, hard cash I reckon,’ she said with a sigh. I emailed my friend, Peter Caxton – he works for the FDA in Washington. He advised me in strictest confidence that the drug company who developed Ampesoman are carrying out limited trials. However, because of some perceived side-effects, they are paying every patient who goes on the trial a considerable sum of money. I think I could maybe understand Ben’s actions if Zara had some terrible life-threatening disease, and the drug was her only chance of survival, but just for money, it’s unforgivable.’
‘How much money exactly?’
‘$10,000 for each patient. I know for a fact that Zara doesn’t know about the money, or anything else about the drug for that matter.’
‘$10,000,’ Duncan repeated. ‘I realise that most British doctors are badly paid, but that’s not enough to chance jeopardising a career.’
‘Don’t forget, Duncan, we are only talking about one patient here. What if Ben has twenty on the trial? That would give him $200,000 for little or no effort.’
‘Sure, and from there on the sky’s the limit?’
‘It all depends how many he’s supposed to have on this trial. My friend couldn’t find that out. I don’t know what’s made him do it. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would use his patients so cruelly. On the other hand it could be Justin’s influence. He does seem to have a strong hold over Ben.’
‘Justin doesn’t sound the nicest of characters,’ Duncan exclaimed sarcastically.
‘I need you to exert all your considerable charms and keep the ladies in the Records Department fully occupied,’ Helen told Duncan, as she pushed him along the corridor in a wheelchair. He’d wanted to walk, but she felt he would be infinitely more appealing to the female staff if he appeared to be more incapacitated than he actually was.
‘I keep telling you that I can play the movie star part to perfection,’ Duncan replied with a dry laugh.
‘You don’t have to act, just be your usual charming self; you know, the brave but injured hero,’ she teased. ‘The women will fall over themselves to get a glimpse of you, let alone talk to you,’ she added, as she pushed him through the double doors into the Records Office.
The effect Duncan’s unexpected appearance had on the entire staff, who were all female, was astounding. Their chattering ceased as they stared at him in stunned silence. Then, almost in unison, they rose to their feet and hurried over to him.
‘Mr Paul,’ one exclaimed excitedly.
‘We love your movies,’ another said, as they almost fell over each other in their haste.
Helen suddenly experienced a surge of jealousy as she watched the women crowding around Duncan. He appeared to be enjoying the adoration. Helen had never realised how complex it was to be involved with such a major celebrity. It had been bad enough with Max, while with Duncan it would likely be a million times worse.
The members of staff thronged excitedly around Duncan, but one woman held back. A middle-aged, overweight lady with her hair confined in a tight bun. ‘Can I help you, Dr Dawson?’ she asked.
‘I came in to look up a few things,’ Helen told her. According to the woman’s ID tag her name was Audrey and she was the office supervisor. ‘I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion. Mr Paul is a patient here and he expressed a wish to meet some of the other hospital staff – the behind-the-scenes people.’
‘So thoughtful. Who would have expected it from such a star.’ Audrey’s stem expression softened as she glanced adoringly over at Duncan, still surrounded by her staff. ‘He is one of my favourite actors. Isn’t he good-looking?’ she added in a conspiratorial whisper.
‘Yes,’ Helen agreed. ‘He’s brought some photos to sign for your ladies.’
‘Do you think he’d sign one for me?’ Audrey asked with girlish excitement. ‘My friend Elsie will be so jealous.’
‘I’m certain he would,’ Helen replied. ‘There’s no need for you to bother yourself looking up the information I need, Audrey. I can easily do it while you chat to Mr Paul.’
‘Would you mind?’ Audrey glanced back at Duncan, who was now putting personalised messages on all the photos, handing them with a flourish to each fan, and following that up with a kiss on the cheek. ‘You can use any desk. All the girls are logged on to the system. Do you know how to use it?’
Helen had watched one of the clerks use the system when she was last there. ‘Yes, I think so,’ she confirmed confidently. ‘However, some of the information I need isn’t current. Dr Kalowski has asked me to do a study on the different plastic surgery procedures we carry out here. It means I’ll have to cross-reference operating records, such as full face-lifts and breast augmentation.’
Audrey smiled. ‘That’s not too difficult, Dr Dawson. Just press F6, type in the name of the procedure, and the system will automatically bring up a list of all the patients who have had that specific procedure carried out at the Princess Beatrice.’
‘That’s great,’ Helen replied. ‘It’ll make my task much easier than I expected it to be. Oh, one more thing –’
‘Yes?’ Audrey tried to conceal her frustration, glancing eagerly back at Duncan, who was now chatting casually to all the ladies.
‘Are the entire hospital records available to me? Or do any of the staff keep their records in separate files.’
‘Professor Fenton has a personal file, but most of his records are accessible if you need them. I know Dr Taylor and Dr Masterson both have files set up that can only be accessed by private passwords, but I’m not aware that they keep anything like that in them. All patients are listed in alphabetical order, and if you find any that don’t have full up-to-date details let me know. I’ll find out who has them, and get the respective member of staff to provide hard copies for you.’
‘You are most efficient, Audrey,’ Helen said, sitting down at the nearest desk and watching Audrey hurry over to speak to Duncan.
Helen was used to a number of different computer systems, and this one proved to be very similar to the one they had at St Matthew’s, but it was far more up to date, far more sophisticated. She decided to pull all the records for patients having had facial surgery. She suspected that Mr X wasn’t the first patient secretly brought into the hospital for extensive facial reconstruction. In a way she hoped to be proved wrong; she wanted h
er suspicions about Ralph and the others to be untrue.
As quickly as she could, she brought up the lists of patients that she needed, scrolling swiftly through the many names. She would have to go through each file one by one to figure out the true extent of their surgery, so at first she just looked for anything that struck her out of the ordinary, something that might lead her to the truth.
She had almost come to the bottom of the list when one name caught her eye – Bruce Wayne. She only noticed it because Duncan had recently mentioned that he had once been approached to play Batman, soon after Val Kilmer declined to reprise his role in the next sequel. Poor bastard, she thought, imagine being lumbered with such a recognisable name. She wondered what the small asterisk beside the name meant, and when she tried to pull up Bruce Wayne’s records she drew a blank. All she could find was the date the file had first been created, six months ago.
Helen back-tracked, finding a few more names with asterisks beside them. Oddly enough the names were all familiar – Barney Rubble, Lois Lane, Clark Kent. This was too much of a coincidence, she thought, and her suspicions were confirmed when she spotted the name Fred Flintstone with a neat asterisk beside it. Perhaps she had found something? Justin had a twisted sense of humour, twisted enough to give these secret patients names of cartoon characters. Could Mr X be a derivative of the X men – a children’s cartoon character just like all the others?
She tried each name in turn, finding, just like the first one, that she couldn’t pull up any records apart from the date the file was first created – all at fairly regular intervals over the last two years.
‘Have you found everything you need?’ Audrey asked, looking a little flushed as she clutched a signed picture of a bare-chested Duncan to her ample bosom.
‘Some, but not all,’ Helen said. ‘I can’t bring up the records for the asterisked names. Do you know if they are held by any of the doctors in the personal files?’ she asked, pressing the button, so that the laser printer would churn out the lists she needed.
‘Asterisks,’ Audrey repeated with a smile. ‘That’s not surprising. Dr Taylor asked me to have all those names deleted from our records. I just haven’t got around to it yet.’
‘Why deleted?’ Helen asked.
‘Didn’t you notice that they were all names of cartoon characters? Audrey asked her. ‘I’ve only been working here a couple of months, so I didn’t know anything about it until Dr Taylor explained what had happened. Apparently a young man, who initially set up this new computer system, created a number of fake patient record files for testing purposes, to make sure it was all working properly. Dr Taylor says that these files were just cluttering up our system, so he downloaded all the information in them on to disc two days ago. Now I’ve just got to delete all the names.’
‘Really?’ Helen said thoughtfully. ‘Do you know how long ago this new system was installed, Audrey?’
‘Four years ago.’
‘So these records are all four years old?’ Helen asked.
‘Yes. It was apparently a silly joke on the young man’s part to give all the files names of cartoon characters. But at least it’s made it easy for us to locate them and tidy up the system.’
‘Quite so,’ Helen agreed, gathering up the sheets she’d printed. ‘Thanks for your help, Audrey. I think I’d better take Mr Paul back to his room now, so that you can get your staff back to work.’
It was a little after 4 p.m., and the weather was still glorious. Brilliant sunshine, but not uncomfortably hot, with a slight breeze moving the sweetly scented air.
‘It’s nice to be in the open air again after a stuffy hospital room,’ Duncan commented as Helen pushed him across the courtyard in his wheelchair. ‘Where are we going exactly?’
She stopped and looked down at him. ‘It’s your choice. I can take you on a tour of the grounds. There’s a nice ornamental garden, with a couple of fountains, and even a small lake. Alternatively, I could show you my apartment.’
‘Apartment,’ he repeated with a smile. ‘Is there any room in particular you think I should see?’
‘The bedroom is very nicely decorated, and there’s a very comfortable four-poster bed,’ she replied. ‘It’s up to you.’
‘There isn’t really a choice, is there?’ He looked upwards, narrowing his eyes at the glare of the sun. ‘The weather isn’t really right for a tour of the grounds. You never know, it might rain,’ he added, surveying the cloudless blue sky. ‘I think it best we go to your apartment, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, pushing him forwards again. ‘Luckily my place is on the ground floor.’
‘I can climb stairs, I can do anything now,’ Duncan said, lifting his foot, waving his ankle around as if it were fully healed. Duncan had been fitted with a lightweight cast – the very latest technology from the States, brought over by the company backing his movie. It meant he could get back to work earlier than expected. Wardrobe was already altering his costumes so that the cast would be hidden during filming.
‘Just don’t get carried away, or do anything stupid when you get back on set,’ Helen warned, pushing the wheelchair through the entrance doors of the apartment block. ‘No silly stunts, no outrageous risks, Duncan, or your ankle won’t heal properly. If you don’t heed my warning, any damage you do could well turn out to be permanent.’
‘Then no more big-budget action movies for me. I’m not that stupid, Helen.’
‘I sense that you feel you have to live up to this macho image of yours. Sometimes you try to be what you are not,’ Helen suggested.
‘In that case perhaps you should come with me. Be my personal physician, always on call, day or night,’ he teased, but in a way that she sensed was serious.
Helen was tempted to take up the offer. She really did need to get away from this place. She had become very attached to Duncan, and would love to spend more time with him. Once Duncan departed, and his steadying influence wasn’t around, she feared that she might get sucked into the sexual morass if she wasn’t careful.
‘I’ll get Paolo to send me a copy of the shooting schedule. That way I’ll know exactly where you are at any given time. I can turn up at any moment to make sure you are behaving yourself.’
‘You mean to check up on me and make sure I’m not banging away at some cute little bit-part player in my dressing room,’ he commented with a wry chuckle.
‘That part of your life is none of my business, Duncan. I was referring to your physical wellbeing, nothing more.’ She stopped outside her front door, unlocked it and pushed Duncan inside.
Helen had only just pushed his chair into the sitting room, when he climbed out of it and walked over to the window, managing to move quite well on two feet, the restrictions imposed by his ankle cast barely visible. ‘You mean you wouldn’t be even the slightest bit jealous if you found me bare-assed naked with some glamorous eighteen year old?’
‘Why should I be?’ she lied.
The thoughts didn’t appeal at all to Helen, but she didn’t own Duncan. She had managed to convince herself that this was purely a brief liaison with no expectations on either side. Anyway, what right had she to feel jealous after her recent erotic interludes with Ben and Justin?
‘This place isn’t bad for a staff apartment.’ Duncan stepped towards her, barely limping at all.
‘Would you like a drink or something?’ she asked as he stared thoughtfully at her.
‘No thanks. Where’s the bedroom?’
‘Through there,’ she pointed, then gave a squeal of surprise as he lifted her into his arms.
Chapter Nine
‘NO,’ HELEN PROTESTED as Duncan started to carry her towards the bedroom. ‘Be careful – your ankle.’
‘Forget it,’ he replied. ‘I never break a promise. I’d taken a rain-check on this if you remember.’ He set her down beside the four-poster bed. ‘Now what?’ He grinned wickedly, displaying no discomfort after his exertion.
‘You could have damaged that ankl
e again, Duncan,’ she remonstrated. ‘I know you’re very fit, but you’re still not one hundred per cent after your accident.’
‘I’m fine,’ he insisted stubbornly. ‘Now let’s forget your medical concerns and concentrate on something far more important.’ He removed Max’s nipple clamps from his shirt pocket and very deliberately placed them on her bedside table.
‘What would your adoring fans in records have thought if they’d known you had those in your pocket?’ she teased, slipping off her white coat.
‘They’d probably have been lining up to use them,’ he said with a cheeky grin. ‘You should take a look at my fan mail. Some of it is unbelievable – what they say – what they offer to do for me.’
‘Like what, exactly?’
‘I reckon you could hazard a damn good guess. We could try some of their suggestions out. Start by taking off your dress,’ he prompted, sitting down on her bed.
‘This dress?’ Helen slid down the zip, stepped out of it, and let it drop to the floor.
‘You’re definitely on the right track,’ he confirmed, looking her up and down.
Helen had worn undies today: a provocative red lace bra and matching panties. The lace was so fine you could almost see through it, while her nipples peeped coyly out of the low cups. The panties were minute, a tiny triangle at the front, which didn’t even cover her pubis, and a narrow band at the back which sat neatly between her buttock cheeks. As she moved, Helen could feel the thin string straining against her sensitive anal opening.
‘Very cute,’ Duncan commented, his breathing quickening, lust lighting his dark eyes.
‘Now you must strip too,’ she demanded, stepping out of her sandals and leaning forwards so that her scantily clad bosom was directly in front of his face.
‘You smell great,’ he said, inhaling her perfume. Duncan continued to stare hungrily at the lush curves of her breasts, as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off.
Doctor's Orders Page 19
