Donor by Ken McClure Page A

health insurance, something they elect to pay for. It’s their choice. I see nothing wrong in that.’
    ‘That still doesn’t make you a proper hospital.’
    ‘I don’t see how you can say that,’ said Ingrid, annoyance creeping into her voice.
    ‘You’re not obliged to provide services you don’t want to. You don’t have an A&E department, you don’t treat VD, you’re not interested in AIDS, TB, or any infectious disease come to that, and as for Alzheimer’s or any kind of mental disorder, forget it. Médic Ecosse wouldn’t want to know.’
    ‘It’s true we don’t handle everything,’ she agreed defensively, ‘but we do have one of the best transplant units in the country.’
    ‘Indeed you do,’ said Dunbar with a grin, ‘and one of the most loyal staff members.’
    Her eyes widened. ‘You were testing me!’ she exclaimed.
    Dunbar raised his eyebrows slightly and pursed his lips in a display of innocence. Ingrid broke into a smile. ‘What a thing to do,’ she said.
    ‘Are all the staff as loyal as you?’
    ‘I should think so. The working conditions here are very good, the pay’s well above the going rate and the holidays generous. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this to you. You’ll probably put all that into reverse,’ laughed Ingrid.
    ‘Fear not,’ smiled Dunbar. ‘I don’t have any such powers and I do appreciate that if you want the best you have to pay for it. So you never have staff problems or problems with disgruntled employees?’
    Ingrid frowned as she thought. ‘Not that I can recall,’ she said.
    Dunbar maintained an encouraging silence.
    ‘Well, there was one, come to think of it,’ said Ingrid, ‘quite recently, as a matter of fact. A staff nurse in the transplant unit – I’ve forgotten her name. She started making wild allegations after the death of a patient, poor woman.’
    ‘What sort of allegations?’
    ‘One of the patients in the unit, a young girl who had been very ill for a long time, died after an unsuccessful kidney transplant, one of the few deaths in that unit, I have to say. I think that’s maybe the only death they’ve had.’
    Dunbar managed to stop himself pointing out that there had been another.
    ‘I think the nurse had been very attached to the patient. She was very upset and started saying all sorts of ridiculous things, making wild accusations about the negligence of the medical staff and things like that.’
    ‘What happened to her?’
    ‘In the circumstances, Dr Ross and Mr Giordano were very understanding about it. They arranged for her to have professional counselling and lots of time off but she persisted with her claims, and in the end I’m afraid they had to let her go.’
    ‘Poor woman,’ said Dunbar, deciding to let the subject drop. ‘How about showing me around?’
    ‘What in particular would you like to see?’
    ‘Absolutely everything.’
     
     
    Dunbar was impressed by what he saw on his guided tour. He wasn’t allowed to enter any of the rooms currently occupied, as that would have been regarded as an invasion of patient privacy, but he did see from the empty ones the type of accommodation on offer. The rooms would have done justice to a top hotel, each being equipped with telephone, radio, satellite television and space-age communications systems. Wherever possible, medical equipment was hidden from view, much of it secreted behind sliding wall panels. Cardiac monitoring equipment, oxygen supply points and drip-feed equipment were all within easy reach of the bed but out of sight until required. It was hard to tell that this was a hospital room. Even the air smelled fresh and free from antiseptic odour. Dunbar looked up at the ceiling and saw grilles for air-conditioning.
    The X-ray suite was state-of-the-art, as was the physiology lab with its gleaming respiratory function equipment. The operating theatres were fitted with the latest in lighting and table technology. Anaesthetics were available through a colour-coded