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He mentioned an annual salary that was extraordinarily generous, adding, “This doesn’t exclude you taking on any private patients so long as it doesn’t interfere with your first priority, which is company business.”

I was intrigued. It sounded too good to be true.

“What does the work entail?”

“You run the medical facility and we send you our clients for medical checks.We want to know that they are in good health. Right? So we need a thorough examination, blood tests and so on—can’t be too careful about druggies and people with AIDS and so on—we have a worldwide reputation to think of. We have to insure all our clients. Your confidential reports come to us. Then we fix up insurance and so on.”

“It seems straightforward enough,”I agreed. The idea was beginning to appeal to me the more I thought about the financial remuneration and the possibilities it offered. “But who are your clients?”I resisted the temptation to add: “. . . and so on.” It was a manner of punctuation that came as naturally to him as other people say “er” and “ah.”

“Pop singers, members of bands, groups, and so on. You know the sort of thing.We send groups all over the world. Insurance is crucial, and the insurance companies can wheedle out of anything unless we apply the small print. Right? If we claim someone is healthy, and an accident happens, and it can be proved that they are not healthy, we wind up with egg all over our faces and out of pocket. Understand what I mean?”

It was easy enough to follow.

“What about laboratory backup? If you want all the screening tests to be done, you need a technician and laboratory equipment.”

Ronny sat back and shook his head.

“You will have the facilities but, as we need to be discreet, it will be up to you to see all the tests through yourself. That is why we give you full-time employment and a generous salary. Of course, you will have a nurse receptionist, but the rest must be confidential.You might be seeing only two or three clients a week, or even fewer. Therefore, you will have plenty of time to conclude each test yourself. If you want to see the laboratory before making a final decision, I can drive you up to Clontarf right away.”

I sat and reflected for a moment.

“Is there a problem?”h e prompted, anxiously. “Your dossier says that you were doing all your own testing in Africa.”

“There is no problem in that respect,”I assured him. “Let me look at the laboratory, then I’ll give you my answer.”

It was a formality. I had already made up my mind to accept, but I didn’t want him to see that I was so eager.

FOR A WHOLE WEEK I had nothing to do but laze about my well-equipped office and laboratory, which was tucked on the end of Marino Crescent, facing onto the sea. Bríd, the nurse receptionist, was competent, a married middle-aged woman, and a reassuring fixture. Averty Enterprises certainly did not stint on equipment. Some hospitals would have given the collective right arms of their surgery staff to possess many of the diagnostic machines that were at my disposal.

It was Bríd who injected a note of drama in an otherwise humdrum day by telling me about old Dr. Hennessey, who had been my predecessor. He had taken it into his head to go midnight bathing off the Bull Wall at Clontarf, and his body had never been recovered. He had gone insane, she thought, for the day he decided to take his midnight dip in the turbulent sea, he had been mumbling about blood being life, or some such phrase.

Toward the end of the week I began thinking seriously about pursuing the idea of a private practice. Ronayne had assured me that the company would not object to my having private patients if it did not interfere with work for the company.What work? I had a whole week of nothing else to do but familiarize myself with the laboratory and its equipment. Bríd’s only strenuous occupation seemed to be reading copies of Ireland’s Own or telling me tales of the eccentricities of old Dr. Hennessey. I discussed