sidney sheldon - Master of the Game

"Is there any news?" she demanded.

"Not yet, but I'll find him." He looked at his baby daughter for an instant, then turned and walked out without another word.

Mrs. Talley came into the room, twisting her hands in her apron. "Don't you worry, Mrs. McGregor. Jamie is a big boy. He knows how to take care of himself."

Margaret's eyes were blinded by tears. No one would harm little Jamie, would they? Of course not.

Mrs. Talley reached down and took Kate from Margaret's arms.

"Try to sleep."

She took the baby into the nursery and laid her down in her crib. Kate was looking up at her, smiling.

"You'd better get some sleep too, little one. You've got a busy life ahead of you."

Mrs. Talley walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

At midnight, the bedroom window silently slid open and a man climbed into the room. He walked over to the crib, threw a

blanket over the infant's head and scooped her up in his arms. Banda was gone as quickly as he had come.

It was Mrs. Talley who discovered that Kate was missing. Her first thought was that Mrs. McGregor had come in the night and taken her. She walked into Margaret's bedroom and asked, "Where's the baby?"

And from the look on Margaret's face, she knew instantly what had happened.

As another day went by with no trace of his son, Jamie was on the verge of collapsing. He approached David Blackwell. "You don't think anything bad has happened to him?" His voice was barely under control.

David tried to sound convincing. "I'm sure not, Mr. McGregor."

But he was sure. He had warned Jamie McGregor that the Bantus neither forgave nor forgot, and it was a Bantu who had been cruelly murdered. David was certain of one thing: If the Bantus had taken little Jamie, he had died a horrible death, for they would exact their vengeance in kind.

Jamie returned home at dawn, drained. He had led a search party of townspeople, diggers and constables, and they had spent the night looking without success in every conceivable place for the young boy.

David was waiting when Jamie walked into the study. David rose to his feet. "Mr. McGregor, your daughter has been kidnapped."

Jamie stared at him in silence, his face pale. Then he turned and walked into his bedroom.

Jamie had not been to bed for forty-eight hours, and he fell into bed, utterly exhausted, and slept. He was under the shade of a large baobab tree and in the distance across the trackless veld a lion was moving toward him. Young Jamie was shaking him. Wake up, Papa, a lion is coming. The animal was moving toward them faster now. His son was shaking him harder. Wake up!

Jamie opened his eyes. Banda was standing over him. Jamie started to speak, but Banda put a hand over Jamie's mouth.

"Quiet!" He allowed Jamie to sit up.

"Where's my son?" Jamie demanded.

"He's dead."

The room began to spin.

"I'm sorry. I was too late to stop them. Your people spilled Bantu blood. My people demanded vengeance."

Jamie buried his face in his hands. "Oh, my God! What did they do to him?"

There was a bottomless sorrow in Banda's voice. "They left him out in the desert. I—I found his body and buried him."

"Oh, no! Oh, please, no!"

"I tried to save him, Jamie."

Jamie slowly nodded, accepting it. Then dully, "What about my daughter?"

"I took her away before they could get her. She's back in her bedroom, asleep. She'll be all right if you do what you promised."

Jamie looked up, and his face was a mask of hatred. "I'll keep my promise. But I want the men who killed my son. They're going to pay."

Banda said quietly, 'Then you will have to kill my whole tribe, Jamie."

Banda was gone.

It was only a nightmare, but she kept her eyes tightly closed, because she knew if she opened them the nightmare would become real and her children would be dead. So she played a game. She would keep her eyes squeezed shut until she felt little Jamie's hand on hers saying, "It's all right, Mother. We're here. We're safe."

She had been in bed for three days, refusing to talk to anyone or see anyone. Dr. Teeger came and went, and Margaret was not even aware of it. In the middle of the night Margaret was lying in bed with her eyes shut when she heard a loud crash from her

son's room. She opened her eyes and listened. There was an other sound. Little Jamie was back!

Margaret hurriedly got out of bed and ran down the corridoi toward the closed door of her son's room. Through the door, she could hear strange animal sounds. Her heart pounding wildly, she pushed the door open.

Her husband lay on the floor, his face and body contorted. One eye was closed and the other stared up at her grotesquely. He was trying to speak, and the words came out as slobbering animal sounds.

Margaret whispered, "Oh, Jamie—Jamie!"

Dr. Teeger said, "I'm afraid the news is bad, Mrs. McGregor. Your husband has had a severe stroke. There's a fifty-fifty chance he'll live—but if he does, he'll be a vegetable. I'll make arrangements to get him into a private sanitarium where he can get the proper care."

"No."

He looked at Margaret in surprise. "No ... what?"

"No hospital. I want him here with me."

The doctor considered for a moment. "All right. You'll need a nurse. I'll arrange—"

"I don't want a nurse. I'll take care of Jamie myself."

Dr. Teeger shook his head. "That won't be possible, Mrs. McGregor. You don't know what's involved Your husband is no longer a functioning human being. He's completely paralyzed and will be for as long as he lives."

Margaret said, "I'll take care of him."

Now Jamie finally, truly, belonged to her.

Jamie McGregor lived for exactly one year from the day he was taken ill, and it was the happiest time of Margaret's life. Jamie was totally helpless. He could neither talk nor move. Margaret cared for her husband, tended to all his needs, and kept him at her side day and night. During the day, she propped him up in a wheelchair in the sewing room, and while she knitted sweaters and throw-robes for him, she talked to him. She discussed all the little household problems he had never had time to listen to before, and she told him how well little Kate was getting along. At night she carried Jamie's skeletal body to her bedroom and gently lay him in bed next to her. Margaret tucked him in and they had their one-sided chat until Margaret was ready to go to sleep.

David Blackwell was running Kruger-Brent, Ltd. From time to time, David came to the house with papers for Margaret to sign, and it was painful for David to see the helpless condition Jamie was in. I owe this man everything, David thought.

"You chose well, Jamie," Margaret told her husband. "David is a fine man." She put down her knitting and smiled. "He re-

minds me of you a bit. Of course, there was never anyone as clever as you, my darling, and there never will be again. You were so fair to look at, Jamie, and so kind and strong. And you weren't afraid to dream. Now all your dreams have come true. The company is getting bigger every day." She picked up her knitting again. "Little Kate is beginning to talk. I'll swear she said 'mama' this morning ..."

Jamie sat there, propped up in his chair, one eye staring ahead.

"She has your eyes and your mouth. She's going to grow up to be a beauty ..."

The following morning when Margaret awakened, Jamie McGregor was dead. She took him in her arms and held him close to her.

"Rest, my darling, rest. I've always loved you so much, Jamie. I hope you know that. Good-bye, my own dear love."

She was alone now. Her husband and her son had left her. There was only herself and her daughter. Margaret walked into the baby's room and looked down at Kate, sleeping in her crib. Katherine. Kate. The name came from the Greek, and it meant clear or pure. It was a name given to saints and nuns and queens.