There were examination rooms, waiting rooms, minor surgery rooms, as well as delivery and birthing rooms. There was also an overnight ward.
By far the most impressive part of the clinic was the infertility section, boasting its own surgical wing capable of major surgical procedures. There were also six fully computerized ultrasound rooms. Filled with the absolute latest equipment, they had a Star Wars appearance. The clinical infertility lab was a huge room with large incubators, centrifuges, and modern cryogenic units.
Marissa and Wendy thought they’d seen it all when Mr. Carstans opened a heavy door and stepped aside for them to enter.
The women found themselves in a glass enclosure that served as the dust-free entry to a fairyland of high-tech instrumentation.
On the other side of the glass, a number of hooded technicians were at work. The laboratory looked like a space station in the twenty-first century.
“This is the heart of FCA,” Mr. Carstans explained.
“This is the basic research section. It is from here that many of the breakthroughs in in-vitro fertilization techniques have come. Right now we are concentrating on cryopreservation techniques for both embryos and gametes. But we are also working on fetal tissue research, particularly for Parkinson’s Disease, diabetes, and even immunodeficiency problems.”
“I’ve never seen such a research setup,” Wendy said.
“It’s a tribute to capitalism,” Mr. Carstans said with a smile.
“Private initiative and private investment. It’s the only way to get things done in the modern world. The public benefits both in the availability of new techniques as well as superior clinical care.”
“What are the FCA success rates with in-vitro fertilization?”
Marissa asked.
“We are approaching a pregnancy rate of eighty percent,” Mr.
Carstans said with obvious pride.
“No other program can match it.”
Mr. Carstans walked the women back to the front entrance.
He could tell they were impressed.
“We are pleased you came to visit,” he said, stopping near the waiting area where they’d begun the tour.
“I think you’ve seen most everything-Hope you enjoyed it. Are there any questions you’d like to ask?”
“I do have a question,” Marissa said. Opening her shoulder bag, she pulled out the journal article that Cyrill had given her.
She handed it to Mr. Carstans.
“I assume you’re familiar with this article. It’s about a series of cases here at FCA.”
Mr. Carstans hesitated, then took the paper. He glanced at it, then handed it back.
“No, I’ve never seen it,” he said.
“How long have you been associated with FCAT’ Wendy asked.
“Just shy of five years,” Mr. Carstans said.
“This paper is only two years old,” Wendy said.
“How could the public relations department have been unaware of it? I would have thought that such a paper would have been a significant issue for you. It’s about relatively young women coming down with TB in their fallopian tubes.”
“As a rule, I don’t read technical journals,” Mr. Carstans said.
“What journal was it published in?”
“The Australian Journal of Infectious Diseases, ” Marissa said.
“What about the author, Dr. Tristan Williams? Apparently he was on the staff here in pathology. Were you acquainted with him?”
“Afraid not,” Mr. Carstans said.
“But then again, I don’t know all the staff. For questions like these, I’ll have to refer you to Charles Lester, the director of the clinic.”
“Do you think he’d be willing to speak with us?” Marissa asked.
“Under the circumstances,” Mr. Carstans said, “I believe he would be happy to speak to you. In fact, if you’ll be patient for a moment, I’ll trot upstairs and see if he’s free this very moment.”
Marissa and Wendy watched Mr. Carstans disappear through a stairwell door. Then they looked at each other.
“What do you think?” Wendy asked.
“Beats me,” Marissa said.
“I couldn’t tell if he was on the level or not.”
“I’m beginning to get a weird feeling,” Wendy said.
“This place seems too good to be true. Have you ever seen such opulence at a clinic?”
“I’m amazed that there is a chance we can meet the director,” Marissa said.
“I wouldn’t have thought that possible without some formal introduction.”
Just then Mr. Carstans reappeared.
“You’re in luck,” he said.