'So what do you need doc, how do you figure out what to do?' Joe asked now. They were back in the conference room at the hospital.
Joe and Jill sat side by side, flanked by Glen and Shawn with Ben and Natasha, Tony and Dave taking up positions around the room; some more discreet than others. Ben's eyes never seemed to leave Jill's back these days and Tony was so close to Joe that he could hear his breathing. Natasha was positioned at the door, standing solidly, suggesting that the hardest tackle wouldn't even bother her, in fact, she seemed to be prepared for just that. Dave was back a little, almost lost in the shadows of the room, his position allowing him to see every single person and every item in the conference room.
The medical team, three in total; the most senior consultant from the cardiology, renal and radiotherapy departments sat opposite the first couple. Wearing formal shirts and ties beneath pristine white coats with stethoscopes casually slung around their necks they looked a little harassed; tired and uncomfortable and unsure.
Dr. Arnault sighed. He flicked through pages of his notebook. Across the conference table Jill's eyes fell to the page, she couldn't help but smile a little. The pages looked like a spider had fallen into an inkpot and wandered through the notebook; they needn't worry about anyone reading Louis' notes, she realized.
'We've exhausted all of the more standard tests and have broadened our scope considerably', he explained, pulling her attention back to his words. 'We've taken additional tissue samples but we need to have them tested. We're very limited in our options', he said and then rubbed his hand along his face.
He pulled the notebook closer, ran his finger down a list. 'We don't have the lab capacity in France to do the tests we need. I rang a colleague and he told me a lab in Berlin, Germany can do them but we need to complete an inordinate amount of paperwork', he said, his thumb running along the edge of the page he was reading from.
'Under EU law we can't send human tissue without the appropriate papers. In addition we had a power cut overnight and it seems the refrigerator was out. The generator took time to kick in. I'm afraid that the sample might be contaminated. I think we should take more', he said, finally lifting his eyes from the page. 'Plus it's the weekend, sir', he said, looking directly at the president.
Joe returned a perplexed look.
'The weekend?' he prompted.
'No one is answering the phones, sir', the doctor explained 'we're having a hard time accessing the necessary paperwork. And to make matters worse Monday is a holiday in most countries', he continued.
Joe's eyes slid towards Jill and back again.
He frowned.
'Let me get this straight. The curator of one of the most prestigious museums in the world collapses. Within 24 hours he's in organ failure. He can't be treated until you figure out what's wrong. To do that you need to have tissue samples analyzed and the only place you can do that is in Germany. You can't send the samples cuz everyone is off for the weekend so no one can answer the phone or process your paperwork, plus you think the samples may be spoiled anyway. Am I missing anything?' Joe asked, his blue eyes piercing the doctors.
The doctor swallowed. A bead of sweat trickled down his neck. The old phrase don't shoot the messenger popped into his mind. He felt like he'd just gotten a real clear insight into how President Biden operated; succinctly, straight down the line, shooting from the hip, no bullshit tolerated. He decided to answer accordingly.
'That's correct, sir' he replied. 'These tests are very detailed and rarely done. Few labs have the expertise and the ones that do are closed for the long weekend. And, as I said, the paperwork load is immense. Passing human tissue through international borders is akin to human trafficking and is regulated accordingly', he finished.
