Implant (DI Gardener 3)

Sinclair opened his suitcase and pulled out a number of files, which he placed in a variety of drawers either in his desk, or in a filing cabinet, going about his business as if Gary wasn’t even in the room.

“There are always casualties in war,” Sinclair said eventually.

Gary didn’t know what he meant.

“What are you talking about?” he screamed. “Who the hell are you at war with? Not me!”

“We’ve been in a war from the beginning, young man. Against the drug dealers, the people who killed my wife and son. Casualties, Gary, all of them; my wife, my son, your mother. We have to expect casualties when we are fighting a war.”

“You’re a doctor for God’s sake, where’s your compassion?”

Sinclair stared at Gary. “You’re allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment. You must not let your emotions enter into this.”

Gary Close fell back into one of the leather armchairs, totally defeated by what he was up against.

“Your mother was never going to recover anyway.”

That comment brought Gary to his feet again, running on adrenaline. “You didn’t tell me that when we started this, did you?”

The door to the surgeon’s office opened, and Iain Ross popped his head around the frame.

“Is everything okay, Robert?”

“It’s fine, Iain,” replied Sinclair, walking towards the door. “Gary is upset, naturally. And who wouldn’t be, he’s just lost his mother.”

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Ross.

“No, I’ll be perfectly fine. I’m quite capable of dealing with the situation. Please, go back to whatever you were doing.”

Mr Ross didn’t seem too happy about the decision, but left anyway. Gary didn’t think he would leave the building altogether, which was good as far as he was concerned, because they may well need a witness before too long.

Sinclair closed the door and returned to his desk. “Please keep the noise down, Mr Close. Shouting will not help either of us.”

“I can’t believe you. Someone’s died, and you don’t care.”

“Of course I care. I don’t like losing patients. I take it personally when I do, but I can’t save them all. If I allowed my emotions to come into it every time I lost a patient, I would have given up practicing a long time ago.”

Gary had had enough. “I risked my career for you. I got you what you wanted, all the information on the druggies, where they were, what they were up to. I even managed to get a set of keys to the shop so as you could carry out your work. And all for what? Nothing, by the looks of things. Your part of the bargain was that you would treat my mother.”

“And we did.”

“You said you would save her.”

“No I didn’t,” replied Sinclair, standing opposite the young PC, meeting his glare. “I said I would try. But you were not the only one taking the risks.”

“What risks did you take?” asked Gary.

“Without me, your mother would not have lasted as long as she did, nor would she have been as comfortable. The drugs and the medication she needed cost a fortune. And what you have to remember is that no NHS hospital would supply them. But because of the position I was in, I was able to make sure she got the best of everything. And she did. But I could not guarantee it would save her.”

“You led me to believe you could.”

“No, I did not. I told you from the start I would do everything I could, and I did.”

Gary ran his hands though his hair, and down his face. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. He wasn’t sure how to deal with what was happening.

“Why didn’t you tell me she’d died last night?”

Sinclair didn’t reply immediately. In fact, Gary thought he was going to ignore the question altogether.