And Susan Garland would be alive now, Adam thought. He was numbly aware he had been walking around with the subconscious knowledge that he should have called in a Visiting Surgeon that night. It was why he had been consulting Visitings lately even for the routine things.

He nodded at Kender.

The transplant specialist sighed. “The damned rejection phenomenon is still the thing that’s plaguing us. We’re good enough surgical mechanics to transplant anything, physically—hearts, limbs or puppy-dogs’ tails. But then the recipient’s antibodies go to work to reject the transplant, and to prevent this we poison the system with chemicals and leave the patient wide open to infection.”

“When you do the next transplant—the kidney for Mrs. Bergstrom—do you plan to use lighter dosages of the drugs?” Dr. Sack asked.

Dr. Kender shrugged. “We’ll have to go back to the lab. We’ll do more animal studies and then decide.”

“Let’s return to the Garland case,” Dr. Longwood said calmly. “How would you classify the death?”

“Oh, my, preventable,” Dr. Parkhurst said.

“Preventable,” Dr. Kender said, sucking at his cigar.

“By all means,” Dr. Sack said.

When it was Meomartino’s turn he had the grace merely to nod silently.

The Old Man fixed Adam with those huge eyes. “On this Surgical Service, Dr. Silverstone, whenever a patient bleeds to death it will be assumed that the mortality could have been avoided.”

Adam nodded again. There seemed to be no point in saying anything.

Dr. Longwood rose and the meeting was over.

Adam scraped his chair back from the table and got the hell out of the amphitheater.

When he came off duty that evening he traced Dr. Kender to the animal lab and found him setting up a new series of drug experiments with canines.

Kender greeted him genially. “Pull up a chair, son. You seem to have survived your ordeal by fire.”

“Not without getting singed,” Adam said.

The older man shrugged. “You deserved to get your ass singed, but it was a mistake most of us would have made with your inexperience in transplantation. You’re doing fine. I happen to know Dr. Longwood has his eye on you.”

He found himself tingling with pleasure and relief.

“Of course, I wouldn’t rely on that if you come up before the Mortality Conference on a regular basis,” Kender said thoughtfully, pulling at his ear.

“I won’t.”

“I don’t think you will. Well, what can I do for you?”

“I think I’d better learn something about this end of it,” Adam said. “Is there anything I can do around here?”

Kender cast him an interested glance. “When you’ve been here as long as I have, you’ll learn never to refuse when somebody volunteers to work.” He went to a cabinet and took out a tray full of small bottles. “Fourteen new drugs. We get them by the dozens from the cancer people. All over the world investigators are developing chemicals to fight cancer. We’ve found that most agents that are effective against tumors also will kick the hell out of the body’s ability to reject or fight foreign tissue.” He selected two books from his shelf and handed them to Adam. “If you’re really interested, read these. Then drop around again.”