Pandora's Helix

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Michael Neef, consultant in paediatric oncology at St George’s Hospital, checked his watch as he descended the spiral steps to the Pathology Department. He was running late but felt he had to respond to a friend and colleague’s request that he ‘pop down’ to the PM suite for a moment. He and pathologist, Frank MacSween had known each other long enough to respect each other’s opinion. If Frank said there was something worth taking a look at, it usually meant there was.

Neef, a tall, well-built man in his middle thirties with swept back dark hair and a handsome face, marred only by the legacy of a broken-nose after a motor cycle accident in his teens, pushed through the swing doors of the path lab and nodded to the duty technician before entering the changing rooms. He helped himself to a green cotton gown and tied it loosely behind him. He didn’t bother with the footwear option, leaving the row of Wellington boots under the wooden bench undisturbed; he wouldn’t be staying long if he could help it.

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