The Lazarus Effect Read Online Free Page A

shifted in the wind, sending more debris crumbling to the ground.
    ‘What the–’ He peered closer and blinked, lost for words. They were courting a lawsuit if a plank got loose and brained a prospective client on his or her way in.
    Ian scanned the perimeter tape demarcating the edge of the site, spotted a cluster of builders under a jacaranda at the edge of the car park and headed towards them. ‘Who’s in charge here? You? Okay, come with me, please … yes, you, come with me.’ He drew the puzzled headman back to the entrance and jabbed a finger. ‘Do you see that? Are you and your men responsible for erecting this sign?’
    ‘Ja, sure.’ The man frowned. ‘But right now’s our tea break.’
    ‘Naturally. And in the meantime, this establishment poses a danger to all when in fact it’s our duty to heal and protect. Do you not see the irony in that?’
    The headman’s expression replied an unequivocal no, he did not. ‘Look man, no worries. Ons sal dit later regmaak. Hoekom, is jy die hoof van die hospitaal?’ He looked Ian up and down, waiting for a reply, then repeated, slowly, as if speaking to a child, ‘I said, we’ll fix it later. Why, are you the head of the hospital?’His lip curled as he flicked his eyes over Ian’s cashmere coat and BMW keys. ‘Don’t you speak Afrikaans, man?’
    Ian’s keys dug into his fist, heat flooding his face. He wanted to scream at this lout that he practically ran the cardiology unit and was one of the finest specialists on the payroll. ‘Yes, I do, of course,’ he snarled. ‘But right now, that’s not the primary concern.’
    The headman took a pointed sip from a steaming mug and flicked his eyes over the sign again. ‘Ja, sorry, sir . We’re working as fast as we can. We’ll drop everything and get that fixed for you right away.’ He walked back to his circle of brethren without a backward glance, and Ian watched them make a big show of amusement as the headman overplayed their encounter.
    Ian grabbed his belongings from the BMW’s front seat, glowering. He hadn’t meant to grandstand like an ass, but appearances mattered. The WI couldn’t afford to be a reminder of the establishment it used to be. The clientele they wooed wanted excellent care as much as a touch of grandeur. Under no circumstances could anything mar the facility’s debut, not if he had anything to do with it. All the hours of ass-kissing and elbow-greasing had to even out to a substantial payoff, if his efforts hadn’t been a waste.
    Ian shut the door of the BMW X5, savouring its meaty sound. That was the sound of a good car as far as he was concerned, that thick, coming-together clunk of expensive doors. The car noises he remembered from his childhood were overly loud and metallic, a death rattle of abused doors and engines on the brink of collapse. Both of his daughters, conscientious as they were, thought the car a waste of money and murder on theenvironment, but their distinct lack of complaints at the BMW’s comfort and legroom on long trips didn’t escape his notice. His son was a simpler soul, bless him; grabbed the wheel at every available chance.
    Ian strode up the path and through the automatic double doors, hoping to avoid any more encounters of the crass kind. Lingering and mingling was not on his agenda today.
    ‘Good morning, Dr Fourie.’
    He turned towards the deep voice. Behind the security desk a tall, dark-skinned man in uniform rose to his feet, his eyes warm. Patriotic as Ian was, he secretly believed that the best service in town was almost invariably provided by foreigners, his wife excluded. Etienne Matongo, a Congolese getting by in a job he wouldn’t be doing in better times in his own country, always had a cheerful greeting every morning he was on duty. Matongo and the WI went way back. He’d stayed dedicated to the establishment from its infancy to the bloom it now enjoyed, and had earned the deputy of security and surveillance title. Ian spared the