Free Chameleon by Ken McClure Page A

obviously concerned at his colleague's injury. 'Have you seen about it Clive?' he asked. 'Maybe you should have a dressing on that.' He leaned forward to examine it more closely but Evans again insisted that it was nothing and pulled down his sleeve. He turned to Jamieson and said, 'If you like I'll show you around the lab.'
     
    Jamieson followed Evans round the cubicles of the first floor while Evans explained what happened in each of them then he led the way downstairs to the cold, fluorescent light of the basement and a long low room. 'This is the Preparation Room,' he said. 'All our glassware and equipment is cleaned and sterilised here.
    Jamieson noted the three women working at large stainless steel sinks and noted the steam steriliser that was currently on an operating cycle. A relay clicked to allow more steam to enter and maintain its temperature.
    'As you see, we have one large autoclave, working on the hospital's direct steam supply. We use that to sterilise all specimens once we've finished with them. In addition we have three hot air ovens and several small pressure cookers for individuals to use if they have to sterilise something in a hurry.
    'Do you sterilise anything for other wards or departments?' Jamieson asked.
    'No. All general sterilising is done down in the central facility at CSSD.'
    'I see,' said Jamieson. He noticed that the sweat was running off the women as they worked at their sinks and looked up at the ceiling for an extractor fan.
    Evans read his mind and said, 'I'm afraid there's no air conditioning. Dr Richardson has been asking for it for a long time I understand but with no success. Too many other priorities. It's not so bad when the steriliser isn't running.'
    'But pretty awful when it is,' added Jamieson.
    The two men moved on through the basement corridor with Jamieson having to duck his head to avoid hitting it on an array of pipes that ran along the underside of the low ceiling. Evans, a couple of inches shorter than Jamieson, did not have the same problem.
    'This is my lab,' said Evans opening a door to a square room that was slightly bigger than any of the others Jamieson had seen with the exception of Richardson's room. 'And this, I am afraid, is yours for the duration.' Evans opened a door on the other side of the corridor and Jamieson looked in to a small, narrow room that reminded him of a walk-in wardrobe. It had a desk, a telephone and an anglepoise lamp and not much else. There was no room for anything else. There were two cardboard folders lying on the desk.
    'These files contain the information you asked for,' said Evans. 'If there's anything else, I'm just across the corridor.'
    Jamieson thanked him and took off his jacket to hang it over the back of his chair. He sat down and looked at the walls that enclosed him. If he reached out he could touch all of them. Above him there was a thick, glass grating that allowed the merest suspicion of daylight to enter, slightly less than the greyest of dawns, Jamieson reckoned. 'One hundred and five North Tower,' he whispered switching on the anglepoise lamp. He opened the folders and got to work.
     
    After a good two hours study, Jamieson could find no fault in the procedures followed by the Microbiology Department in trying to trace the source of the infection. According to the records, all recommended, standard procedures had been carried out with meticulous care and all tests appeared to have been carried out more than once, often three or four times. But the result had always been the same. No sign of the bug that was plaguing the practice of surgery in the Gynaecology department.
    Jamieson went through the results of the staff tests again, just looking for anything at all out of the ordinary. His finger stopped moving as he found something. One nurse and one member of the surgical team had proved to be completely negative on each of the two separate occasions they had been tested. He found that puzzling. Most people carried