attempt. "There's no
timer here," said Fenton.
"Damn."
Fenton sifted through the
contents of the cupboard while Ferguson stood by. Test tube racks,
plastic tubes and beakers and several brown glass bottles with
chemicals in them. He examined the labels. Potassium oxalate,
sodium citrate, heparin, EDTA, Warfarin. "What do you make of
that?" he asked Ferguson.
"They're all anti-coagulants,"
said Ferguson quietly.
Fenton nodded. "Indeed they
are," he said softly.
"I don't understand," said
Ferguson.
Fenton did not reply for his
mind was working overtime in trying to work out why Munro had been
using anticoagulants at all and why they had been locked away out
of sight. It must have had something to do with his research
project, he concluded, but what? He needed time to think, time to
ponder the frightening coincidence that Munro had apparently been
working with the same sort of drugs and chemicals that had been
used to murder two people in the hospital.He looked at Ferguson who
was obviously thinking the same thing but was waiting for him to
say something first. Fenton said, “I think it might be best if we
didn't say anything about this for the moment."
"Of course," said Ferguson.
"Whatever you think."
Fenton took out the one
remaining bottle in the cupboard and looked at the label.
Dimethyl-formamide.
"What's that?" asked
Ferguson.
"A powerful solvent." said
Fenton.
Jenny came to the lab at five
thirty hoping for a lift home. Almost as soon as she entered the
downstairs hallway she became aware of the absence of Susan Daniels
who, in the past, had always come out of her lab to chat to her. A
junior went to find Fenton leaving her looking at the notices on
the general information board by the staff lockers. Ian Ferguson
saw her standing there and stopped to say hello. They spoke about
the weather until Fenton appeared at the head of the stairs to say
that he would be another ten minutes.
"She can come and speak to me
until you're ready," said Ferguson.
Jenny sat on a swivel stool in
Ferguson's lab while he continued to add small volumes of a
chemical to a long row of test tubes. She was about to ask what he
was doing when Ferguson opened the conversation by asking how
things were going on the wards. "We're busy," replied Jenny, "We're
at least a third under strength. People are frightened." Jenny
remembered what Fenton had told her about Ferguson applying for a
new job and felt embarrassed at what she had said. As casually as
possible she said, "I understand from Tom that you are applying for
an exciting new job?
"I was," replied Ferguson. "But
I've changed my mind. Tom made me realise just what it would mean
to the department."
"But if it was a good
opportunity..." said Jenny.
"There will be others," said
Ferguson.
"I see," said Jenny, although
she was not sure that she did.She hoped that Fenton had not been
too hard on him, had not embarrassed him into changing his mind for
in many ways Ferguson was very like Tom Fenton. He was tall and
dark and very intelligent. She supposed that, in the classical
sense, Ferguson was more handsome than Fenton for Fenton’s face was
too open, too frank, too honest to be considered handsome whereas
Ian Ferguson had the dark broody quality so beloved of women's
magazines. There was an air of introversion about him but it was
certainly not bred of shyness and there was nothing in his eyes to
suggest any lack of confidence.
The sound of Fenton's voice
outside the door prompted Jenny to get up and wish Ferguson
good-night adding that she hoped her presence had not distracted
him too much. "Not at all," replied Ferguson. "It's always nice to
see you."
They had missed the worst of
the rush hour traffic and were home in under fifteen minutes, both
agreeing that they had had a hard day.
"Let's eat out," said
Fenton.
"Where?"
"Somewhere nice. We haven't
been out for a meal in ages."
"Queensferry?"
"Why Queensferry?"
"I want to be near the sea,"
said Jenny. "There is one
timer here," said Fenton.
"Damn."
Fenton sifted through the
contents of the cupboard while Ferguson stood by. Test tube racks,
plastic tubes and beakers and several brown glass bottles with
chemicals in them. He examined the labels. Potassium oxalate,
sodium citrate, heparin, EDTA, Warfarin. "What do you make of
that?" he asked Ferguson.
"They're all anti-coagulants,"
said Ferguson quietly.
Fenton nodded. "Indeed they
are," he said softly.
"I don't understand," said
Ferguson.
Fenton did not reply for his
mind was working overtime in trying to work out why Munro had been
using anticoagulants at all and why they had been locked away out
of sight. It must have had something to do with his research
project, he concluded, but what? He needed time to think, time to
ponder the frightening coincidence that Munro had apparently been
working with the same sort of drugs and chemicals that had been
used to murder two people in the hospital.He looked at Ferguson who
was obviously thinking the same thing but was waiting for him to
say something first. Fenton said, “I think it might be best if we
didn't say anything about this for the moment."
"Of course," said Ferguson.
"Whatever you think."
Fenton took out the one
remaining bottle in the cupboard and looked at the label.
Dimethyl-formamide.
"What's that?" asked
Ferguson.
"A powerful solvent." said
Fenton.
Jenny came to the lab at five
thirty hoping for a lift home. Almost as soon as she entered the
downstairs hallway she became aware of the absence of Susan Daniels
who, in the past, had always come out of her lab to chat to her. A
junior went to find Fenton leaving her looking at the notices on
the general information board by the staff lockers. Ian Ferguson
saw her standing there and stopped to say hello. They spoke about
the weather until Fenton appeared at the head of the stairs to say
that he would be another ten minutes.
"She can come and speak to me
until you're ready," said Ferguson.
Jenny sat on a swivel stool in
Ferguson's lab while he continued to add small volumes of a
chemical to a long row of test tubes. She was about to ask what he
was doing when Ferguson opened the conversation by asking how
things were going on the wards. "We're busy," replied Jenny, "We're
at least a third under strength. People are frightened." Jenny
remembered what Fenton had told her about Ferguson applying for a
new job and felt embarrassed at what she had said. As casually as
possible she said, "I understand from Tom that you are applying for
an exciting new job?
"I was," replied Ferguson. "But
I've changed my mind. Tom made me realise just what it would mean
to the department."
"But if it was a good
opportunity..." said Jenny.
"There will be others," said
Ferguson.
"I see," said Jenny, although
she was not sure that she did.She hoped that Fenton had not been
too hard on him, had not embarrassed him into changing his mind for
in many ways Ferguson was very like Tom Fenton. He was tall and
dark and very intelligent. She supposed that, in the classical
sense, Ferguson was more handsome than Fenton for Fenton’s face was
too open, too frank, too honest to be considered handsome whereas
Ian Ferguson had the dark broody quality so beloved of women's
magazines. There was an air of introversion about him but it was
certainly not bred of shyness and there was nothing in his eyes to
suggest any lack of confidence.
The sound of Fenton's voice
outside the door prompted Jenny to get up and wish Ferguson
good-night adding that she hoped her presence had not distracted
him too much. "Not at all," replied Ferguson. "It's always nice to
see you."
They had missed the worst of
the rush hour traffic and were home in under fifteen minutes, both
agreeing that they had had a hard day.
"Let's eat out," said
Fenton.
"Where?"
"Somewhere nice. We haven't
been out for a meal in ages."
"Queensferry?"
"Why Queensferry?"
"I want to be near the sea,"
said Jenny. "There is one
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