When duty meets heart

The blood samples weren't going to process themselves. Adaeze pulled on her gloves and tried to ignore the noise coming from the corridor outside the laboratory. Voices. More than one. And footsteps that didn't belong to any of her usual colleagues — she could tell by the rhythm. Too confident. Too unhurried for a Monday morning at St. Luke's. "Ada!" Chiamaka poked her head through the door, eyes wide. "They're here. The public health people." "I know." Adaeze didn't look up. "Send them to Dr. Fashola." "Dr. Fashola sent them here." She looked up. There were two of them — a woman with a tablet pressed to her chest and a man standing slightly behind her, reading something on his phone like the laboratory of a busy Lagos hospital was the most ordinary place in the world to be standing on a Monday morning. He was tall. That was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was that he looked up at exactly the same moment she did. "Good morning." The woman stepped forward with a bright smile. "I'm Ngozi Eze, and this is Emeka Dike. We're from the Federal Public Health Consultancy. We've been assigned to your hospital for the next three months — infectious disease surveillance, data systems, the usual. Dr. Fashola said you run the lab." "I do." Adaeze peeled off one glove and extended her hand. "Adaeze Okonkwo." "We'll need access to your records from the last six months," Emeka said. Still calm. Still unbothered. He had finally put his phone away, at least. Adaeze looked at him. "Good morning to you too." A pause. Something shifted in his expression — not quite embarrassment, not quite a smile. "Good morning," he said. "We'll need access to your records from the last six months." Chiamaka made a small sound behind Adaeze that could have been a cough or a laugh. Adaeze chose to ignore it. "I'll need that request in writing," Adaeze said, turning back to her samples. "Signed by Dr. Fashola. Data doesn't leave this lab on a verbal request — not from anyone." Silence. Then — "Fair enough." She hadn't expected that. Most people pushed back. He simply nodded, said something quietly to Ngozi, and moved toward the door. He paused at the threshold. "You're thorough," he said, without turning around. "That's good. We're going to need that." Then he was gone. Chiamaka waited exactly three seconds. "Ada." Her voice was a whisper. "Who *is* that man?" Adaeze snapped her second glove back on. "Trouble," she said. "Now hand me those samples."