Out of Time (Book 1)

Armies and Agents

1942

September

"Dr Curtis." 

The authoritative voice rang out across the reception hall. Curtis winced at the receptionist as rapid footsteps sounded behind him. The receptionist, Frances, flashed him a sympathetic look as he took a steadying breath to steel himself and turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Sister Rogers, what can I..." he began, but was halted mid-sentence as the officious young Sister handed him a set of patient's notes.

"I need you to sign for the medication on this chart. Patient in bed two, came in a few hours ago." Betty spoke briskly. "Please." It was almost an afterthought.

"Erm, OK." Curtis started to flick through the chart. "Perhaps I should just..."  

Betty sighed wearily.

"Doctor Curtis. I'm sure you are aware of the findin's reported in the American Journal of Medical Innovations that have shown this combination of medication to be most effective for the treatment of his condition. We can have him well and back home within three days. Are you sayin' you don't want this patient to have the best, most effective care that this hospital can offer?" Betty raised her eyebrow.

"No, of course not Sister!" Dr Curtis protested. He scribbled his signature on the patient's records.

"Thank you, Doctor," Betty said, whisking the notes away and, turning on her heel, headed back into her ward.

Dr Curtis let out a breath.

"She sure is something," Frances grinned in awe.

"She's damn terrifying," said the doctor. "Brilliant, but terrifying."

The elevator bell rang out, signalling visitors to the floor. The caged doors slid open, and three figures stepped out. Two, an older man and a young woman, were in military dress, and the third, also an older man, wore a camel-coloured suit and carried a brown leather briefcase.

"Can I help you?" smiled Frances.

"Yes," replied the woman in a clipped British accent.  "We're looking for Sister Elizabeth Rogers. Is she available?"

"Oh, yes, of course. She's on her ward at the moment. Would you like to wait in the relative's room whilst I fetch her?"

The older military man nodded his head once.

"Thank you," said the woman, with a small smile.

"Whom shall I say is here to see her?" Frances queried.

"That's classified," drawled the uniformed man with a grim expression.

"Right, OK then! I'll..." Frances gestured towards the ward doors and scurried off, throwing a side-eyed glance at Dr Curtis, who stepped up to the trio with his hand outstretched in greeting.

"Dr Ross Curtis, pleased to meet you."

The three strangers stared, expressionless, not giving anything away. The moment quickly became uncomfortable.

"Relative's room, right this way then." Curtis bobbed his head and led them to the room.

They didn't even cast a perfunctory glance in his direction as he closed the door behind them. He headed back over to his usual perch at the reception desk, waiting on Frances to return, so they could speculate about who the mysterious visitors could be and what they might possibly want with Sister Rogers.  Betty, having delivered the medications for the patient in bed 2, had just settled behind her desk at the ward entrance to complete some notes, when Frances rushed in, earning her a fierce look from Betty – a reminder to not disturb the peace of her patients.