Free Scalpel by Paul Carson Page B

across the face.
    The bitch.
    'I need that result tonight, thank you very much, and no, it will not wait until tomorrow. I need to decide on this woman's management immediately.'
    Lynch had taken the sample of blood from himself earlier and labelled it Joan O'Sullivan. He'd completed a standard hospital request form for a HIV test on a Joan O'Sullivan with an address in Crumlin, careful to print the request and not sign the form. He fixed his eyes on the young lab assistant and she averted his gaze.
    'Ring me in an hour,' she muttered as she set about processing the test.
    'I'll call back.' Lynch closed the lab door behind him.
    Mary Dwyer scowled as she heard it shut. Back in his consulting room, Dean Lynch sat down on the chair in front of his desk and began the long wait. All day long he had gone over in his mind how he could have contracted the AIDS virus. It couldn't have been from injecting himself for he always used fresh needles and syringes for each hit and never shared. It could only have come from one of the many prostitutes he'd hired out over the years.
    While he had been overly cautious about safe sex he knew when his mind had been fogged from heroin he wouldn't have known what he was doing. So fogged on occasions he knew he might well have shared a fix with one of the many call girls he had visited in Amsterdam, London and Bangkok.
    Half in dread, half in exultant expectancy he stood up, checked his watch and set about preparing.
    He had decided already what he would do if the test was positive.
    No one must learn he had AIDS.
    No matter what had to be done.
     
     
    The last examination room along the darkened corridor was reserved for minor surgical procedures. It was about six yards from the laboratory. Inside Dean Lynch slipped on a pair of surgical gloves and pulled them tightly across his hands and extended fingers. He clasped both hands together, interlocking the fingers until he felt he had as firm a fit as possible. Then, opening a stainless steel instrument tray, he selected a sterile scalpel handle from inside. On a shelf behind lay boxes of various sized scalpel blades. Lynch peered along each, finally selecting a size twenty-three, the widest blade available.
    Opening the foil he snapped the blade onto the scalpel handle and slipped it inside his white coat pocket. The foil was screwed tightly into a ball and pushed inside a trouser pocket. For a moment he leaned against the wall, summoning up all his mental and physical reserves. Sweat formed on his brow and he wiped it away with a sleeve.
    Mary Dwyer had her back to the lab door, engrossed in paperwork. With a quick glance along the darkened corridor, Lynch gently opened and closed the door, turning the lock. The click as the bolt engaged alerted Dwyer and she turned sharply.
    'Is that test ready yet?' His voice was slightly shaky, his mouth dry. The pounding inside his chest almost rocked his bulky frame.
    Mary Dwyer turned back to her paperwork, ignoring the question.
    'There's no Joan O'Sullivan at the address you put on this form, Dr Lynch. At least there's no Joan O'Sullivan of that address in the hospital computer records. We have no record of that patient ever having attended here either as an inpatient or outpatient.'
    She swivelled her chair round to Lynch.
    'I've checked through the past five year records and there's no Joan O'Sullivan of 249 Crumlin Crescent in our system. Do you think she's given you a false name and address?'
    Dean Lynch controlled his rage.
    The little bitch had actually checked his request form.
    She's on to me already.
    'It's… it's possible, I suppose… I mean… how can you tell… sometimes it's hard to know if some patients are giving you their right name or not.'
    He was stammering, fluffing his lines and he knew it. What's more he knew that she knew it. Mary Dwyer stared straight at him, a half smile on her lips.
    'Probably some prostitute or bloody drug addict I'll bet,' she snapped as she flicked a switch