Richard Overstreet appeared within minutes. He was a boyish, athletic-looking individual with a shock of auburn hair that fell across his forehead. The hair had a habit of slipping over his eyes. Richard was ever pushing it back with his hand or throwing it back with a snap of his head. He wore a white jacket over surgical scrubs; his jacket pockets were crammed with test tubes, tourniquets, gauze pads, lab chits, and syringes.
Martin introduced Richard to Jack, then asked him about the short discussion they’d had about plague the day before.
Richard seemed embarrassed. “It was just my imagination getting the best of me,” he said with a laugh.
“But what made you think of it?” Martin asked.
Richard swept his hair from his face and for a moment left his hand on the top of his head while he thought. “Oh, I remember,” he said. “Nancy Wiggens had gone up to get a sputum culture and draw the man’s blood. She told me how sick he was and that he appeared to have some gangrene on the tips of his fingers. She said his fingers were black.” Richard shrugged. “It made me think of the black death.”
Jack was impressed.
“Did you follow up on it at all?” Martin asked.
“No,” Richard said. “Not after what you’d said about the probability. As behind as we are in the lab, I couldn’t take the time. All of us, including me, have been out drawing blood. Is there some kind of problem?” Richard asked.
“A big problem,” Martin said. “The man did have plague. Not only that, but he’s already dead.”
Richard literally staggered. “My God!” he exclaimed.
“I hope you encourage safety with your techs,” Jack said.
“Absolutely,” Richard said, regaining his composure. “We have biosafety cabinets, both type two and three. I try to encourage my techs to use one or the other, especially with obviously serious infectious cases. Personally I like the type three, but some people find using the thick rubber gloves too clumsy.”
At that moment Nancy Wiggens appeared. She was a shy woman who appeared more like a teenager than a college graduate. She could barely look Jack in the eye as they were introduced. She wore her dark hair parted down the middle of her head, and like that of her immediate boss, Richard, it constantly fell across her eyes.
Martin explained to her what had happened. She was as shocked as Richard had been. Martin assured her she was not being blamed but that they should all try to learn from the experience.
“What should I do about my exposure?” she questioned. “I was the one who got the specimen as well as the one who processed it.”
“You’ll probably be taking tetracycline by mouth or streptomycin IM,” Jack said. “The hospital infection-control officer is working on that at the moment.”
“Uh oh!” Martin voiced under his breath but loud enough for the others to hear. “Here comes our fearless leader and the chief of the medical staff, and both look unhappy.”
Kelley swept into the room like an irate general after a military defeat. He towered over Martin with his hands on his hips and his reddened face thrust forward. “Dr. Cheveau,” he began with a scornful tone. “Dr. Arnold here tells me you should have made this diagnosis before…”
Kelley stopped mid-sentence. Although he was content to ignore the two microbiology techs, Jack was a different story.
“What in God’s name are you doing down here?” he demanded.
“Just helping out,” Jack replied.
“Aren’t you overstepping your mandate?” he suggested venomously.
“We like to be thorough in our investigations,” Jack said.
“I think you have more than exhausted your official capacity,” Kelley snapped. “I want you out of here. After all, this is a private institution.”
Jack got to his feet, vainly trying to look the towering Kelley in the eye. “If AmeriCare thinks it can do without me, I think I’ll run along.”
Kelley’s face turned purple. He started to say something else but changed his mind. Instead he merely pointed toward the door.
Jack smiled and waved to the others before taking his leave. He was pleased with his visit. As far as he was concerned, it couldn’t have gone better.