Glittering Gallows

Chapter 36

227 C Chapter 36 eidi Gaynor, the uniformed sergeant and two of Moagi’s bodyguards in dark suits and shades waited for him in the foyer of the X-ray and radiology department. The security details were on their feet while Heidi lounged in a sofa, two leatherbound dossiers and the billionaire’s diary resting in her lap. A couple of people were also seated in the foyer, some bruising magazines, others lost in thought. When Moagi walked into the foyer, Heidi stood up and stared at him anxiously, clutching the dossiers and the diary against her bosom. “How’s she, sir?” “Not too bad,” he said without breaking pace. “She’s stable but in a coma. Thank you, Heidi.” Heidi had to walk briskly beside him to keep abreast. A bodyguard ran to him and whispered in his ear. “A throng of paparazzi is waiting for you in the main foyer. Some are by the cars.” The premier stopped and shook his head. “How do we evade them?” “We’ll use a back door. I’ve instructed the chauffeurs to drive to the back of the hospital.” “Good. But won’t they follow the cars?” “It’s a restricted area, sir. Please, follow me.” The bodyguard led the entourage to a side door in the foyer. They walked down a series of passages until they emerged at the back of the hospital. Two metallic blue Mercedes Benz CLS-Class sedans with tinted windows awaited them. Apart from a forklift offloading large oxygen cylinders from an articulated BOC truck, and the two cars, no other vehicles were in this delivery section of the property. The sergeant opened a rear door for Moagi Makgunda and saluted. Heidi and he climbed into the backseat of the first car. As the sergeant went round the car to take the front passenger seat, the two details dashed to the car behind. H 228 The cars drove to a manned sectional security gate, went round the building and past the hospital’s main reception. Moagi caught a glimpse of a restless mob in the foyer. From the cumbersome cameras on the shoulders of some, it was clear the scrum was journalistic. It must’ve been the cars they recognised because suddenly the mob poured from the building, descended some low steps and ran after the sedans. Moagi saw them via the internal rear-view mirror. The journalists were running. Running and shouting and gesturing for the cars to stop. Speed-restrictive humps stranding the tarred road every few metres prevented the cars from racing away. The politician cursed under his breath. The mob caught up with the cars at the main gate boom. Most of the reporters assumed he was in the trailing vehicle. They surrounded it and began knocking on the windows. Only a handful rushed to the leading car. In a glass-panelled guardroom, a uniformed security guard lackadaisically picked a clipboard, inspected it and walked to the first car. Moagi speculated the journalists had bribed the guard to delay his passage, and wished the same idea had occurred to him. He would’ve enticed the guard ahead of the paparazzi. But now that they had stopped, it would be uncouth and unforgivable for a senior civil servant of his calibre, and a public figure for that matter, to deny the journalists an opportunity to interview him. “They’ll have two minutes of my time,” he said to the chauffeur. The driver nodded and respectfully touched the tip of his cap. Moagi wound down his window electronically. As the handful of journalists who had rushed to the leading car peered inside the vehicle and recognised him, photographers clamoured by the window. When the group around the trailing car realised their mistake, they rushed to join their fellows. Scuffles ensued. Moagi made sure he wore a relaxed face as cameras rolled and flashed. The plainclothes bodyguards ejected from the car behind and came to flank the premier’s window. The mob spontaneously 229 screamed questions at him, vying for attention until order asserted itself and the questions came one at a time. “Hon. Makgunda, is it true your wife is battling for her life in this hospital?” “That’s not true, ma’am. Her condition is stable,” he said guardedly. “What happened to your wife?” Another female reporter asked. “There was an accident. My wife walked in her sleep and fell down...