The Namedropper by Brian Freemantle

about him like startled wings, head jerking constantly about him in an apparent search for something mislaid or forever lost. Not looking at Jordan he said, ‘You’ve got some notes? Samples?’
    â€˜Neither,’ said Jordan. ‘The appointment was made by my solicitor, Lesley Corbin. It’s for a legal case.’
    â€˜Legal case?’ demanded the venerealogist, frowning directly at Jordan for the first time.
    â€˜In America,’ offered Jordan.
    The man flustered through a hamster’s den of papers on his desk, finally coming up with a confirming official letter from Lesley Corbin. Looking up again he said, ‘HIV, negative or positive? Any venereal infection?’
    â€˜To prove I am not suffering from anything.’ Jordan supposed he should be amused by the shambling, mad doctor imagery, but he wasn’t. As Lesley had reminded him the previous day there was nothing amusing in the situation in which he found himself.
    Preston stared from beneath his upright shock of pure white hair. ‘You think you have caught something?’
    â€˜It’s to guarantee that I haven’t infected someone. Anyone.’
    â€˜Ah!’ exclaimed the man, in final understanding. He went back to the appointment slip. ‘It doesn’t say,’ he said, as if offering an explanation of his own.
    That’s what it’s for.’
    â€˜You suffered from anything in the past?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜It’s possible for me to find a trace, if you have.’
    â€˜I haven’t,’ insisted Jordan.
    â€˜You’re sure?’
    â€˜Positive.’
    â€˜Have you got any discharge? Irritation? Rashes? Need to pass water frequently?’
    â€˜No. No symptoms, if those are the symptoms.’
    â€˜You sure?’
    â€˜Positive,’ sighed Jordan, again. Why the hell had Lesley Corbin picked this man?
    â€˜When’s the last time you had a full medical examination?’
    â€˜I’ve never had a full medical examination.’
    â€˜Who’s your regular doctor, from whom I can obtain your records and case notes. I’ll need you to sign the authority for me to ask for them, of course.’
    â€˜I don’t have a regular doctor.’
    The white-haired head came up again. ‘What do you do if you are ill?’
    â€˜I’m never ill. If I were I’d go to a hospital.’ To have a regular doctor meant records being created and invisible men didn’t have records.
    â€˜This is for court purposes?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I’ll need to give you a full medical, as well as giving you the specific examination that’s been asked for. I can’t do one without the other.’
    â€˜Why don’t you do that and get it over with?’ demanded Jordan, impatiently.
    Jordan later decided he wouldn’t have agreed so readily if he’d known it was going to take almost three hours. He had to supply five phials for all the necessary blood tests and two for urine examination, as well as a faeces sample. There were two sets of chest and lower body X-rays and his blood pressure and rate was tested not just by an arm cuff but on a treadmill meter. His lung capacity was measured by his blowing into an asthma tube and his vision to the very bottom line of the alphabet chart. Although a prostrate assessment was ticked on one of the blood test cards the doctor also insisted upon a rubber gloved anal examination, which was a great deal more uncomfortable than with the later, narrower colostomy probe. The final forty-five minutes was a verbal exchange to discover any illnesses or complaints Jordan could have conceivably suffered during his remembered childhood up to that day, whether or not it had required doctor or hospital consultation, followed by a determined effort by Preston to complete a medical history of Jordan’s parents.
    At the end the doctor said, ‘I think you’re the only person I’ve ever