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during the course of his treatment, others will not, and that is the way it should stay. His identity must never reach the public domain. Absolute confidentiality is a must. Is that understood from the outset?’
    Everyone nodded.
    ‘While I am perfectly sure that all of you will be as good as your word, I am duty bound to point out that the confidentiality clause you signed when accepting your Hotspur Foundation grant made it clear that any breach would result in your being made to refund the entire sum, and would also render you liable to a breach-of-contract action which, I assure you, would be pursued … with vigour.’
    Motram, who hadn’t read the small print in the grant papers, noticed that the looks passing between a few of the others suggested he wasn’t alone in this oversight.
    ‘Patient X has a severe form of leukaemia. He also has unlimited financial resources, which may provide some of you with a clue to which part of the world he comes from …’
    Polite laughter.
    ‘He wants the best and he can afford it. But, as we all know, disease is not impressed by money. After trying everything else for Patient X, we have now arrived at the last chance saloon, a bone marrow transplant. This hospital has all the facilities necessary and we think we have identified a suitable donor. Without stepping on anyone’s toes, we would like you to oversee every aspect of the procedure. According to your individual expertise, some of you will only be required for a short time, others for longer. Those who will be here for longer will be accommodated in the excellent patients’ relatives’ quarters they have here in the hospital until their job is done. Rather like members of a jury, you will be required not to discuss Patient X or any aspect of his treatment “out of hours”, so to speak. As the physician in ultimate charge of Patient X, I’d now like to discuss with each of you in turn what will be required of you on an individual basis, starting with …’ Samson referred to his notes, finding the right page at the third attempt, ‘Dr John Motram.’ He looked up and Motram responded with a half-hearted raise of the hand. It had been a long time since he’d held up his hand in class and he felt slightly silly.
    ‘Kate will show the rest of you to one of the private rooms, where you’ll find tea and coffee and some excellent chocolate biscuits.’
    Samson seemed more relaxed when the others had left. He smiled at Motram and said, ‘I think you’ll be the chap getting off most lightly from all of this. The donor will be here shortly.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We need you to set up the comprehensive range of tests we have detailed for you on this sheet.’ He handed the A4 paper to Motram. ‘In short, we would like you to confirm that our putative donor is indeed a perfect match for Patient X … compatible in every way.’ He saw a questioning look appear on Motram’s face and added, ‘We are not looking for a donor who ticks some of the boxes and might be all right with high immuno-suppression for the rest of the patient’s life. We need a perfect match – blood type, tissue type, sub-markers, the lot. We think we’ve identified such a donor: we need you to confirm this. We will supply you with the lab report we already have on Patient X; you can collect your own samples from the donor in order to make the comparison.’ He handed Motram his card. ‘Let us know your findings as soon as you’re sure.’
     
     
    After a tour of the hospital and its facilities, during which Motram decided that this was what all hospitals would be like if the world were perfect, he met the donor in a consulting room where, instead of a desk between them, there was a coffee table with a cafetiere containing the best coffee he’d tasted in ages sitting on it.
    The young man facing him, dressed in jeans and a denim jacket, appeared fit and healthy. He was clean-shaven and had fair, close-cropped hair which was