Glittering Gallows

Chapter 53

319 C Chapter 53 t half-past eight in the morning of the twenty-eighth of February, Regis and Aluwani were already standing outside the Andries St branch of the Binomial Bank of South Africa. Regis had traded his cart two days earlier for two hundred rand and three bottles of Smirnoff Vodka. The amount was roughly equivalent to thirty-four US dollars. Last night, while Regis burnt his belongings in a bonfire, except the worn-out Bible and Agnes Lamola’s photograph, his colleague refused to destroy his possessions. The seeming coalminer discreetly buried his bags in the park. Aluwani and he then bathed with water from a fire hydrant in Burgers Park. Now it was Monday–the Monday. None of them looked like a downright coalminer or a lunatic. Already they were blending well with about a dozen people waiting for the doors to open. Through gaps in the louvers, Regis saw five tellers, men and women, taking positions behind counters. A man in a suit carted bundles of money in transparent plastic bags to their cubicles. But the trolley was small and bore rand denominations. Regis glanced at Aluwani. His counterpart’s face was beginning to glisten with sweat. The morning was warm, but not to the extent of drawing perspiration, especially on the face of someone standing in the shade of a veranda. The two had wished it would be cold on the day, to justify woollen or leather gloves. As it was, their hands were bare, but they would take caution not to touch anything in the bank. The branch’s sole security guard, a Sudanese-black giant with a barrel chest pressed against the breast of his blue shirt uniform, came to the door and unlocked it from inside. The man carried a pistol holstered around his waistline. He stood back and the clients walked in one by one, the guard smiling and greeting them. But Regis noticed that the giant’s objective wasn’t cordiality. He was vetting the people for signs of trouble; banks were most vulnerable at opening time. A 320 Aluwani must have been the seventh or eighth person to enter. But in a hooded American baseball sweater, a wrinkled pair of formal trousers and battered shoes from whose tips his toes peered, he was an obvious suspect. Even a raw guard could’ve picked him. Regis looked the same, except for the colour of his sweater. His was black while his colleague’s was white. They possibly belonged to one victim of their outdoor drying line theft in Arcadia. But decent shoes had proved hard to come by. He was revolving with the door when he saw the guard calling Aluwani to return to him. Aluwani had passed the giant and, head cautiously bowed, was making his way to join a small queue forming in the bank. Some tellers had already started serving. Aluwani froze in mid-stride. Things had started by going wrong. Regis’ heart thumbed like a triple-hammer. He watched his mate turn and retrace his way back to the guard, his head still bowed. The giant’s hand hovered near his holstered pistol. Regis’ stomach grumbled. He feared he was going to mess his trousers. This was trouble. Just like him, Aluwani was concealing a large plastic bag under his sweater and a rolled up makeshift balaclava mask on the crown of his head under the hood. Regis carried the Luger in his trousers. In the time it took Aluwani to reach the guard, the world stood still for Regis. One thought told him to abort and continue revolving in the doorway until it ejected him, and then run before his mate revealed their intention. In that split-second, he listened to a counter thought assuring him that Aluwani hadn’t committed any crime so far and appearing suspicious to a security guard wasn’t criminal. South Africa was full of dubious people walking scot-free. Suspicious faces comprised the Parliament. It would be illegal and unethical for the giant to search his colleague. The guard gestured at the first counter where a teller had just finished her preparations. The seemingly preferred treatment was a definite sign the giant wasn’t seeing Aluwani in good light and wanted him served immediately under his watchful eyes and monitor him 321 until he left. Aluwani had neither penny nor personal ID on his person. But...