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distinguished figure walked in. He ignored the people working there and crossed to floor to open an office door on the far side. Finding no one inside, he turned and said to no one in particular, ‘No Doctor Malloy.’
    ‘ Give the man a coconut,’ whispered one of the men present to a younger colleague working beside him.
    ‘ Did you say something, Mr Ferguson?’ asked the tall man.
    ‘ I simply agreed with your observation, Professor Hutton’ replied the man who’d made the comment. Both men held eye contact for a moment, the tall man barely disguising his dislike, the older man seemingly inscrutable in the time-honoured tradition of dumb insolence.
    ‘ Are you expecting him in today?’
    ‘ He didn’t say he wasn’t going to be in,’ replied a young, studious looking man, wearing a black tee shirt with the name of a pop group emblazoned across it His white lab coat hung open.
    ‘ I think he was pretty upset after yesterday’s vaccine trial results,’ added a young red haired woman in her early twenties. ‘Coming on top of Ali’s death, I think it was the final straw.’
    ‘ We all have to accept set-backs in our research. It’s part of the job,’ said the tall man. He looked around at the work benches in the lab and muttered, ‘Ye gods, look at the state of this place. You people should take a leaf out of Dr Pearson’s book next door. His staff keep the lab spotless; you won’t find any clutter lying around there.’
    ‘ Not so much as an idea,’ muttered Ferguson.
    The tall man’s nostrils flared in patrician anger and he took a deep breath but he said nothing to the offender. ‘Tell Dr Malloy I’d like a word when he comes in.’
    As the door closed, the young man in the Tee shirt said to Ferguson, ‘You’re pushing your luck with him.’
    ‘ He’s all front and no substance,’ replied the older man. ’
    ‘ Peter’s right, George’ said the girl. ‘You are pushing your luck. He really doesn’t like this lab.’
    ‘ He can’t do much more to me,’ said the older man. ‘If Steve doesn’t get a new grant I’m out on my arse anyway come Christmas. Herr Direktor has fingered me for early retirement.’
    ‘ There must be a good chance Steve’ll get the grant.’
    ‘ Really? Let’s face it. Yesterday’s trial result isn’t exactly going to help it along.’
    No one argued.
    ‘ It’s still a bad idea to get up Hutton’s nose. He could still screw up your pension deal.’
    ‘ I guess. But it’s my only pleasure,’ said the older man with a grin.
    ‘ He is a bit of a pompous prick,’ said Peter Moore, the graduate student wearing the black tee shirt.
    ‘ University’s full of them.’ added Sandra Macandrew, the red haired girl, also a PhD student. ‘Something we have to live with.’
    ‘ And something the British do so well,’ added Pierre LeGrice, visiting post-doctoral research fellow from the Institut Pasteur in Paris. ‘If you look the part and wear the right tie you can go far in this country.’
    ‘ Maybe it’s because the university’s an “equal opportunity employer”,’ suggested Ferguson, the senior technician with the group. ‘Being a brainless balloon is no impediment.’
    The door opened and a man wearing dark glasses and black clothes came in. ‘Christ, my head’s got a brass band playing in it,’ he complained by way of greeting.
    ‘ Herr Direktor was looking for you,’ said Ferguson. ‘Didn’t look too happy but we still managed to make him less happy by the time he left.’
    ‘ You haven’t been baiting him again, have you?’ asked the newcomer with a look of resigned exasperation.
    ‘ He gave us a lecture on lab tidiness, said we should learn from the Pearson lab next door.’
    ‘ That’ll be the day,’ snorted Steven Malloy, the group leader. ‘But he does have a point. Maybe just a wee tidy up guys?’
    ‘ Okay, we’ll do that while you see the man.’
    ‘ I need some coffee first.’
    ‘ And an aspirin?’ asked Sandra