would have rented a bloody Concorde to get it there if necessary!'
'All right, all right,' snapped Fearman, 'but for God's sake stop taking it out on me! You've become a pain in the arse!'
Anderson was struck dumb. It was the first time he had ever heard his even-tempered flatmate raise his voice. He stared out of the window, calming down in the icy silence and realizing that Fearman was right. 'I apologize,' he said. 'Would three pints and a Chinese takeaway make amends?'
'You're on,' smiled Fearman.
On the Thursday of the fourth week, Anderson received his long-awaited report from Tel Aviv. He was absolutely shattered when he read it. Strauss had carried out extensive animal tests using a variety of plasmid and Galomycin combinations. All the animals had survived without showing the slightest ill-effects; doubling the Galomycin dosage had made no difference. He concluded that both the drug and the plasmid were quite, quite harmless.
Anderson cringed inwa rdly with humiliation. He concentrated his gaze on the notepad in front of him and drew a series of concentric circles in the top right-hand corner while trying to maintain a suitably inscrutable expression.
'It appears that Dr Anderson's conclusions were perhaps a little precipitate,' said Lennox-Adams to the assembled meeting.
'There may indeed be more to it than was first thought . . . ' continued James Morton.
Anderson sensed that Lennox-Adams was enjoying it all, playing with him, circling him like a hyena round a wounded animal, darting in to strike home with key words . . . headstrong . . . inexperienced . . . mistaken. 'Now that Professor Strauss has demonstrated that this plasmid thing . . . ' Lennox-Adams made a dismissive gesture with his hand, 'is completely harmless . . .’
'No, he hasn't,' said Kerr, attracting all eyes. 'What he has done is to come up with a different answer to Anderson.'
'Yes, but a man of Strauss's stature . . '
'Can be mistaken like anyone else.'
'But surely in this case . . .'
In this case, Nigel, there are three people in the cemetery who don't think that Anderson was mistaken.'
There was absolute silence in the room. Mary Ryle shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
'Then what do you suggest, Dr Kerr?' asked Lennox-Adams in a cold, flat voice.
'I suggest that we send Dr Anderson to Tel Aviv so that he and Jacob Strauss can sort out this mess,' said Kerr.
'I hardly think that the Regional Health Board will look too kindly on that suggestion.'
'The drug company will pay.'
'Will you ask them?'
'I already have.'
Kerr grunted in response to Anderson's thanks for having defended him. 'You had better telex Strauss to see if it's all right with him.'
'Right away,' said Anderson, getting up.
'One thing,' said Kerr as Anderson reached the door. 'If it does turn out to be your mistake . . . Start looking for a locum in the Hebrides.'
Anderson had a reply to his telex on the following morning; Jacob Strauss agreed to the proposed collaboration. One week later, Anderson left for Tel Aviv.
CHAPTER THREE
Anderson looked down in response to the announcement from the First Officer and saw the lights of Tel Aviv appear in the blackness below; flight BA 576, London Heathrow to Ben Gurion International, was coming in to land. The journey had done nothing to modify his dislike of travelling, regarding it as he did as an endless monotony of queuing and waiting, and the Israel flight had been worse than most. Much more time had been taken up with security and baggage checks. Determined to avoid yet another queue, Anderson sat still till the other passengers had filed out. The company smile on the face of the stewardess changed to a real one when she heard the croak from Anderson's throat when he tried to speak; it had been a long time since he had said anything.
Anderson stood at the top of the steps and let the Israeli night surround him. God, it was hot. No longer protected by the cabin conditioning of the Lockheed Tri-Star, he felt
'All right, all right,' snapped Fearman, 'but for God's sake stop taking it out on me! You've become a pain in the arse!'
Anderson was struck dumb. It was the first time he had ever heard his even-tempered flatmate raise his voice. He stared out of the window, calming down in the icy silence and realizing that Fearman was right. 'I apologize,' he said. 'Would three pints and a Chinese takeaway make amends?'
'You're on,' smiled Fearman.
On the Thursday of the fourth week, Anderson received his long-awaited report from Tel Aviv. He was absolutely shattered when he read it. Strauss had carried out extensive animal tests using a variety of plasmid and Galomycin combinations. All the animals had survived without showing the slightest ill-effects; doubling the Galomycin dosage had made no difference. He concluded that both the drug and the plasmid were quite, quite harmless.
Anderson cringed inwa rdly with humiliation. He concentrated his gaze on the notepad in front of him and drew a series of concentric circles in the top right-hand corner while trying to maintain a suitably inscrutable expression.
'It appears that Dr Anderson's conclusions were perhaps a little precipitate,' said Lennox-Adams to the assembled meeting.
'There may indeed be more to it than was first thought . . . ' continued James Morton.
Anderson sensed that Lennox-Adams was enjoying it all, playing with him, circling him like a hyena round a wounded animal, darting in to strike home with key words . . . headstrong . . . inexperienced . . . mistaken. 'Now that Professor Strauss has demonstrated that this plasmid thing . . . ' Lennox-Adams made a dismissive gesture with his hand, 'is completely harmless . . .’
'No, he hasn't,' said Kerr, attracting all eyes. 'What he has done is to come up with a different answer to Anderson.'
'Yes, but a man of Strauss's stature . . '
'Can be mistaken like anyone else.'
'But surely in this case . . .'
In this case, Nigel, there are three people in the cemetery who don't think that Anderson was mistaken.'
There was absolute silence in the room. Mary Ryle shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
'Then what do you suggest, Dr Kerr?' asked Lennox-Adams in a cold, flat voice.
'I suggest that we send Dr Anderson to Tel Aviv so that he and Jacob Strauss can sort out this mess,' said Kerr.
'I hardly think that the Regional Health Board will look too kindly on that suggestion.'
'The drug company will pay.'
'Will you ask them?'
'I already have.'
Kerr grunted in response to Anderson's thanks for having defended him. 'You had better telex Strauss to see if it's all right with him.'
'Right away,' said Anderson, getting up.
'One thing,' said Kerr as Anderson reached the door. 'If it does turn out to be your mistake . . . Start looking for a locum in the Hebrides.'
Anderson had a reply to his telex on the following morning; Jacob Strauss agreed to the proposed collaboration. One week later, Anderson left for Tel Aviv.
CHAPTER THREE
Anderson looked down in response to the announcement from the First Officer and saw the lights of Tel Aviv appear in the blackness below; flight BA 576, London Heathrow to Ben Gurion International, was coming in to land. The journey had done nothing to modify his dislike of travelling, regarding it as he did as an endless monotony of queuing and waiting, and the Israel flight had been worse than most. Much more time had been taken up with security and baggage checks. Determined to avoid yet another queue, Anderson sat still till the other passengers had filed out. The company smile on the face of the stewardess changed to a real one when she heard the croak from Anderson's throat when he tried to speak; it had been a long time since he had said anything.
Anderson stood at the top of the steps and let the Israeli night surround him. God, it was hot. No longer protected by the cabin conditioning of the Lockheed Tri-Star, he felt
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