Reawakened By The Surgeon's Touch

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‘Get down!’ He pushed her head down as a bullet whined through the cab. He could hear more shots pinging off the chassis and hunched over the steering wheel, hoping that none of them would hit him. He groaned. Yesterday he had been sitting in an upscale London restaurant, enjoying dinner, and today he was in a beat-up old truck about to get fried. Talk about the difference a day made!

‘Will you stop ordering me about! I’ve been here a lot longer than you and I know the drill.’

He risked another glance at her when he heard the anger in her voice and felt his heart give an almighty lurch. Her cap must have been dislodged when he had shoved her head down and now all that honey-gold hair was spilling over her shoulders. It was so thick and shiny that he physically ached to run his fingers through it. It was only the thought of them careering off the road if he gave in to the urge that kept his hands on the wheel.

‘In that case, what do you suggest?’ He raised a mocking black brow, not sure if he appreciated feeling so ridiculously aware of her when the sentiment obviously wasn’t reciprocated. ‘I could stop the truck and ask them nicely not to shoot at us any more, but somehow I don’t think they would be keen to cooperate, do you?’

‘Oh, ha-ha, very funny. It must be wonderful to have such a highly developed sense of humour, Dr Slater.’

‘I’ve found it very useful at times,’ he replied blandly, then ducked when another volley of shots rained over the cab. The rebels were just yards behind them now and they were gaining fast. He had to do something although his options were seriously limited.

‘Here, grab hold of the steering wheel and hold it steady,’ he instructed. ‘The road’s relatively straight from here on, so all you need to do is hang on to it.’ He grabbed her hand and clamped it around the base of the steering wheel then picked up the gun.

‘But I can’t see where we’re going!’

‘Just hold it steady—that’s all you need to do,’ Jude said shortly, leaning over so he could see out of the window. He had a clear view of the vehicles that were pursuing them and smiled grimly. Raising the pistol, he took aim and squeezed the trigger—

Nothing happened.

‘There aren’t any bullets in it.’

It took a whole second for the words to sink in. Jude pulled his head back into the cab and stared, open-mouthed, at the woman in the footwell. ‘What did you say?’

‘The gun’s empty.’ She glared up at him, her previously soft grey eyes like shards of flint. ‘We’re in the business of saving lives, Dr Slater, not taking them. That’s why there are no bullets in the gun.’

A dozen different retorts flew into his head and flew back out again. There was no point asking how or why or even giving vent to his frustration. Jude took the wheel from her and rammed his foot flat on the accelerator, forcing the truck to formerly undiscovered speeds. They rounded a bend and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw the town up ahead. There was an army patrol stationed just outside it and he stamped on the brakes when the soldiers flagged him down. The woman scrambled out of the footwell as the soldiers approached them with their rifles raised.

‘We’ve an injured man on board!’ she shouted out of the window. ‘We need to get him to hospital.’

The soldiers obviously recognised her because they immediately raised the barrier and waved them through. Jude felt his spirits start to revive a little as he drove along the road. Not only had he managed to outrun the rebel faction, but he would get their patient to hospital as well. Not bad going for his first day in the country, all things considered.

‘Take a right at the end of the road and drive straight across when you reach the crossroads. Sound your horn in case anything’s coming but don’t stop.’

Jude frowned as he glanced over at her. He would have expected her to be pleased at having got back to the town but she looked almost as edgy now as she had done when they were being pursued.

‘You can relax,’ he said, injecting an extra-large dollop of honey-coated reassurance into his voice. It was a trick he employed when dealing with particularly nervous patients and it always worked. He was confident that it would work just as well now too. ‘We’re perfectly safe now.’

‘I hate to disillusion you, Dr Slater, but we won’t be safe until we’re at the hospital.’ She smiled thinly as she pointed to a gang of men standing on the corner of the road. ‘See those guys over there? They’re just waiting for someone like you to come along.’

‘Someone like me?’ Jude repeated, unconsciously slowing down.

‘Keep moving!’ She tapped him sharply on the knee so that his foot hit the accelerator and sent them shooting forward. ‘You never, ever slow down when you’re driving through the town. And it goes without saying that you never stop. Those guys will have this truck off you before you can blink.’

‘Oh, come on! You really think I’m just going to hand it over to them?’ he scoffed.

‘If they hold a gun to your head then yes I do. You’d be a fool not to.’ She looked him straight in the eyes and he could tell immediately that she wasn’t simply trying to alarm him. ‘Vehicles of any description are worth a fortune here. They’re far more valuable than a human life and I suggest you remember that.’

She didn’t say anything else but she didn’t need to; she had said more than enough. Jude’s heart plummeted as he drove through the town. He had known it wouldn’t be a picnic working here, but he had never imagined it would be this bad. By the time he pulled up in front of the hospital, he was beginning to wonder if he should have got onto the plane twelve hours or so ago.

‘Stay here while I find a porter,’ the woman instructed, jumping down from the cab.

Jude took a deep breath as she disappeared inside, determined to get himself back on even keel. Maybe the situation was far worse than he had expected but he would cope. He had to. Quite apart from the fact that he had been warned at his interview that there was only one flight per month in and out of Mwuranda, he had a lot to prove, didn’t he?

When he had left the NHS he had been completely burnt out. The pressure of working the kind of hours he had done, added to the daily struggle to find sufficient qualified staff to allow a scheduled surgery to go ahead, had ground him down. Every time he’d had to explain to a patient that an operation couldn’t take place, it had taken its toll on him. It had seemed nothing short of cruel to raise someone’s hopes only to dash them.

He’d had such high expectations when he had gone into surgery, too, a genuine desire to help those who had needed it most, but he had become disillusioned. Nevertheless, he would have carried on if it weren’t for Maddie, but her death had been the final straw. He had left the NHS and gone into the private sector. It had been either that or give up medicine altogether which he couldn’t quite bring himself to do. He had always believed that he had made the right decision, so why did he feel this need to vindicate his actions?

‘Right, let’s get him out of there.’

Jude swung round when the woman opened the cab door and felt his heart jerk like a puppet having its strings pulled. In that second he realised what was happening and bit back his groan of dismay. It was no longer enough that he proved his worth to his old mentor. Neither was it enough that he proved to himself that he could still hack it. For some inexplicable reason he needed to prove to her that he was a damned good surgeon!

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_abb76680-9685-5a83-9012-a99eb5e3d42f)

‘WE’LL HAVE TO use the triage bay. Resus is full.’

Claire guided the trolley past the queue of people waiting to be seen and elbowed open the door to the triage room. Myrtle, one of the cleaning staff, had just finished mopping the floor and Claire smiled at her. ‘Thanks, Myrtle. Can you see if Dr Arnold is anywhere about? We could use his help in here if he’s free.’

‘I will go and find him for you, Sister.’

Myrtle left the room at her usual sedate pace. None of the local staff ever hurried and they seemed to find it highly amusing when they saw the foreign doctors and nurses rushing around. Claire had found their attitude frustrating when she had first arrived in the country, but she had grown used to it by now. She didn’t turn a hair when Benjamin, the porter, took his time positioning the trolley beside the bed although she could tell that Dr Slater was impatient to get on with the job.

‘On my count,’ she said quietly, determined not to let him know how unsettled she felt by his presence. She grasped hold of a piece of the blanket then checked that he and Benjamin had hold as well. ‘One. Two. Three.’

They transferred the injured driver onto the bed and then Bill Arnold arrived.

‘You were supposed to be fetching us back a new surgeon not another patient,’ he grumbled as he came into the room.

‘Stop complaining,’ Claire retorted, well used to the middle-aged Yorkshireman’s dry sense of humour. ‘I could have left the surgeon and just brought you the patient!’

‘In other words, count my blessings, eh?’ Bill laughed as he came over to the bed and held out his hand. ‘Bill Arnold. Nice to have you on board, Dr Slater. What have we got here?’

The two men shook hands before Jude briefly outlined the man’s injuries. ‘He’ll need a CT scan for starters,’ he concluded. ‘Once I have a better idea what I’m dealing with, I’ll want an MRI scan doing as well to check the full extent of soft tissue damage...’

‘Whoa! Steady on.’

Bill held up his hand and Jude immediately stopped speaking, although Claire could tell that he wasn’t pleased about being interrupted. He was probably more used to people hanging on to his every word, she thought cynically as she began to remove the patient’s clothes. Some surgeons seemed to think they ranked second only to God in the pecking order and if that were the case, Jude was in for a nasty shock. The surgeons on the team were treated exactly the same as everyone else, i.e. they were expected to knuckle down and get the job done without a fanfare.

‘Is there a problem, Dr Arnold?’ Jude asked coolly.

‘It’s Bill. I dispensed with the formalities a couple of years ago when I retired,’ the older man told him. ‘And yes, I’m afraid there could be a problem in so far as we don’t have access to the equipment you mentioned.’

‘What do you mean that you don’t have access to it?’ Jude demanded. ‘Is the radiographer not on duty today?’

‘Oh, the radiographer’s here all right,’ Bill explained easily. ‘The problem is the equipment. We don’t have a CT scanner or a Magnetic Resonance Imager in the hospital.’

‘You don’t have them,’ Jude repeated, looking so stunned by the news that Claire almost felt sorry for him. Obviously it had come as a shock to him to learn that the hospital wasn’t equipped with all the usual technology, but had he really expected that it would have been? Deliberately, she whipped up her indignation, not wanting to fall into the trap of sympathising with him.

‘No. We don’t have a CT scanner or access to MRI or PET scanning either, Dr Slater,’ she repeated coolly. ‘Mwuranda has undergone years of civil unrest and there’s no money available for equipment like that. It’s difficult enough to maintain an adequate supply of basic drugs, in fact.’

‘Then how do you suggest we do our jobs?’ he snapped, glaring at her as though he held her personally responsible for the state of the country’s medical facilities.

Claire made herself return his stare but the chill in his eyes was unnerving. She couldn’t stop her mind darting back to the way Andrew had looked at her whenever she had done something to annoy him. She had to make a determined effort to focus on the present moment. ‘The old-fashioned way—through good diagnosis. Isn’t that right, Bill?’

‘Harrumph, well, yes.’ Bill looked uncomfortable about being drawn into the decidedly frosty discussion. He sighed when Jude looked sharply at him. ‘I understand your concerns, of course, but in the absence of any modern technology, we just have to do the best we can.’

‘I see.’ Jude turned and glared at Claire again. ‘Well, I want it putting on record that I’m not happy with the situation. Is that clear?’

‘As crystal. I shall make a note of your comments in triplicate, Dr Slater, and ensure that the appropriate authorities are informed forthwith.’

Bill looked even more uncomfortable when he heard the sarcasm in Claire’s voice but Jude ignored it as he plucked a pair of gloves out of the box. He bent over the patient, his hands moving over the injured man’s skull with the same skill and dexterity which Claire had admired earlier. Maybe he was upset about the lack of modern aids, but he was able to contain his emotions while he got on with the job. And it was a salutary reminder of the way her former boyfriend had been able to emotionally detach himself as well.

Claire quickly excused herself and left. She knew it was unprofessional to leave in the middle of an examination but she simply had to get away. Fortunately one of the local nurses was standing in Reception, so Claire asked her if she would assist in triage then made her way to the office to sign in. Every member of staff had to sign in and out whenever they entered or left the building. Although it was a bit of a bind, they all understood how important it was to know where everyone was in case of an emergency. Now Claire sighed as she realised that she hadn’t explained the procedure to Dr Slater. It meant that she would have to speak to him again and that was something she had been hoping to avoid. She’d had more than enough of the man for one day!

Lola was sitting behind her desk when Claire opened the office door and she grinned at her. ‘I see you made it back safely, then, hon.’

‘Only just.’ Claire scrawled her name on the sheet then poured herself a cup of coffee. Walking over to the one and only easy chair, she flopped down onto its lumpy cushions. ‘We found the truck on our way back. And the driver.’

‘And?’ Lola prompted when she paused to sip some of the muddy brown brew that passed for coffee.

‘And we ended up starring in our very own version of the shoot-out at the OK Corral.’ She grimaced as she put the cup on a pile of medical journals which served as a coffee table in the absence of anything else. ‘That coffee is disgusting! How long has it been stewing in the pot?’

‘Who knows?’ Lola dismissed the coffee’s pedigree with a wave of her hand. Anxiety was etched all over her face as she looked at Claire in concern. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? It must have been real scary for you, so don’t think you have to pull that stiff-upper-lip routine you Brits are famous for. If you want to bawl your eyes out then go right ahead.’

‘I’m fine. Really,’ Claire assured her. ‘OK, so it was a bit hairy at the time, but I was too angry to be really scared.’

‘Angry?’ Lola repeated. ‘You mean with the guys who were shooting at you?’

‘No. With Dr Jude Tobias Slater!’

Claire stood up and started to pace the room, her temper rocketing as she thought about all the things he had done that day. Ignoring her instructions to stay with the motorbike had been his first offence and his second had been the high-handed way he had taken charge. Maybe they were only minor misdemeanours in most people’s eyes but they were far more than that to her. Jude Slater had tried his best to undermine her at every turn and she had too much experience of the harm it could cause to allow that to happen to her again.

She turned and glowered at Lola. ‘The guy is a liability! He’s pushy and overbearing and, what’s more, he seems to think that he knows everything about what it takes to survive out here when he knows nothing at all. Would you believe that he actually expected there would be an MRI scanner in the hospital?’

‘It’s his first mission, though, hon.’

Lola shrugged, obviously trying to defuse the situation, but Claire didn’t want it to be defused. She wanted there to be tension between her and Jude, and lots of it, too, because it would help to blot out everything else. The one thing she mustn’t allow herself to do was to like him.

‘So?’ she scoffed. ‘I remember when you arrived, Lola. It was your first mission as well, but you didn’t expect there to be all kinds of fancy equipment here, did you?’

‘Ah, but I came straight from an inner-city public hospital, so my expectations were already fairly low.’

‘I suppose so.’ Claire gave a grudging smile. ‘From what you’ve told me, conditions there weren’t all that much better than they are here.’

‘You got that right, hon.’

Lola laughed. However, Claire knew that her friend was wondering why she had taken such an obvious dislike to the newest member of their team. There was no way she could explain that Jude reminded her of Andrew, not when she had told nobody about her former partner, so she remained silent and, after a moment, Lola carried on.

‘Dr Slater doesn’t have my kind of background, Claire. I checked his file while you were out and discovered that he’s been working in some fancy private hospital in London for the past five years. How’s he going to have any experience of real life when he’s been mixing with rich folks like that?’

‘In other words, I should cut him some slack—is that what you’re saying?’

‘I guess so. OK, so maybe you two didn’t hit it off, but don’t let first impressions colour your judgement. You guys are going to have to work together and it’s going to make life extremely difficult if you’re at each other’s throats all the time.’

Claire knew that Lola was right. However, the thought of having to work with him was too disturbing to deal with right then. She bolted down the rest of her coffee, fixing a smile into place when Lola looked at her in concern.

‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to do anything rash. I forgot to tell Dr Slater that he needs to sign in, so I’d better go and do it before I forget.’

‘You do that, hon. And I bet you find that he isn’t nearly as bad as you thought he was.’

Claire didn’t say anything. It would serve no purpose to argue with Lola. However, as she left the office, she knew that the one thing she wouldn’t do was try to improve her opinion of Jude Slater. She intended to keep him at arm’s length and the more things she could find to dislike about him, the easier it would be.

* * *

‘I’ll remove this section of bone. Then we can see how extensive the bleeding is.’

Jude bent over the operating table as he carefully eased the shattered section of bone from the man’s skull. It was delicate work and even the tiniest slip could have the most horrendous consequences for the patient but he knew that he possessed the necessary skills. He was a first-rate surgeon despite the fact that he spent most of his time these days stripping out varicose veins.

The thought that he wasn’t utilising his talent as he should be doing was unsettling. He had always believed that opting for the private sector had been the right decision. The perks which came with the job were all too obvious: an excellent salary; working hours which allowed him a healthy social life; an environment in which to work where the very best facilities were always available. However, he had to admit that he had become increasingly bored of late. Most of the work he did was purely routine and there was very little that stretched him. An operation like this was completely different. One slip and the patient could be left severely incapacitated and the thought put him on his mettle. As he suctioned away the massive haematoma that had formed inside the man’s skull, Jude realised in surprise that he was enjoying himself.

‘Clamp.’ He rapped out the instruction, nodding when the nurse at his side slapped the instrument into his palm. He clamped the damaged blood vessel then carefully removed two minute splinters of bone. Fortunately the meninges—the protective membranes which covered the brain—hadn’t been pierced, so once he had cauterised the vein, the bleeding stopped. Nevertheless, it was another hour before he was satisfied that he had done all he could. It was out of his hands now and up to nature to run its course.

Jude glanced at Bill Arnold, who was acting as his anaesthetist. ‘I’m going to call it a day. There’s not much more I can do for him.’

‘From what I saw, you did more than most would have attempted,’ Bill replied as he began to reverse the anaesthetic. ‘Good work, son.’

Normally, Jude would have bridled if anyone had called him son but for some reason he was touched by the compliment. ‘Thanks,’ he said lightly, not wanting the older man to guess that it meant anything to him.

He left Theatre, dropping his disposable cap into the bin on his way out before making his way to the changing room only to stop short when he opened the door and found Claire sitting on one of the benches. She immediately sprang to her feet when she saw him and he couldn’t help noticing how defensive she looked.

‘I forgot to tell you about signing in,’ she said quickly, and he winced when he heard the hostility in her voice.

It had been obvious when they were in Triage that he wasn’t exactly flavour of the month and he could only conclude that it was because of what had happened earlier in the day. Maybe he should have deferred to her instead of taking over like that, but in his own defence, he had been more concerned about their safety than her injured feelings. He had been right, too, he assured himself, so he would be damned if he would apologise when he had got them safely back to the hospital.

‘So tell me now,’ he said flatly, stripping off the top of his scrub suit and tossing it into the dirty-linen hamper. There was a stack of clean towels on a shelf, so he picked one up and flung it over his shoulder then glanced round when she didn’t reply. ‘Look, I don’t want to rush you but I would like to take a shower this side of Christmas, if it’s all right with you.’

‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’ A rush of colour swept up her face as she hurried on. ‘You need to sign in every time you come into work and sign out again each time you leave. The sheets are kept in the office, so if you could sign out after you finish up here that would be great.’

‘And what do I do after that?’ He shrugged when she looked blankly at him. ‘Am I supposed to stay in the hospital, or what? I’ve no idea about our living arrangements.’

‘Oh, I see. I should have explained it all to you before, but things got a bit hectic after we found the truck—’ She broke off, obviously reluctant to talk about what had gone on earlier.

Jude sighed as he realised that his assessment had been spot on. She did harbour a grudge about the way he had railroaded her and it was going to make life extremely stressful in the coming weeks if she didn’t get over it. He was just debating whether he should rustle up some sort of apology when she continued.