Sidney Sheldon - The sands of time

"Agreed. But my wife and I are old and sick, and we can't take on the responsibility of bringing up a baby. God will have to take back his gift."

And so it was that with nowhere else to go the baby was sent to the orphanage in Ávila.

Milo and Ellen were seated in the office of Byron Scott's attorney for the reading of the will. The three of them were the only ones present. Ellen was filled with a sense of almost unbearable excitement. A few words on a piece of paper were going to make her and Milo rich beyond imagining.

We'll buy old masters and an estate in Southampton, and a castle in France. And that's only the beginning.

The lawyer started to speak, and Ellen turned her attention to him. Months earlier she had seen a copy of

Byron's will and knew exactly what it said:

"In the event that my wife and I should both be deceased,

I bequeath all my stock in Scott Industries to my only child,

Patricia, and I appoint my brother, Milo, as executor of my estate until she reaches the legal age and is able to take over. …"

Well, all that is changed now, Ellen thought excitedly.

The lawyer, Lawrence Gray, said solemnly, "This has been a terrible shock to all of us. I know how much you loved your brother, Milo, and as for that darling little baby…" He shook his head. "Well, life must go on. You may not be aware that your brother had changed his will. I won't bother you with the legalese. I will just read you the gist of it." He thumbed through the will and came to the paragraph he was looking for. "I amend this will so that my daughter,

Patricia, will receive the sum of five million dollars plus a distribution of one million dollars a year for the rest of her life. All the stock in Scott Industries held in my name will go to my brother, Milo, as a reward for the faithful and valuable services he has provided the company through the years."

Milo felt the room begin to sway.

Mr. Gray looked up. "Are you all right?"

Milo was finding it difficult to breathe. Good God, what have we done? We've taken away her birthright, and it wasn't necessary at all. Now we can give it back to her.

He turned to say something to Ellen, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

"There has to be something we can do, Ellen. We can't just leave Patricia there. Not now."

They were in their Fifth Avenue apartment getting dressed to go to a charity dinner.

"That's exactly what we're going to do," Ellen told him.

"Unless you'd like to bring her back here and try to explain why we said she was burned to death in the airplane crash."

He had no answer to that. After thinking a moment he said,

"All right, then. We'll send her money every month so she—"

"Don't be a fool, Milo." Her voice was curt. "Send her money? And have the police start checking on why someone is sending her money and trace it back to us? No. If your conscience bothers you, we'll have the company give money to charity. Forget about the child, Milo. She's dead. Remember?"

Remember… remember… remember…

The words echoed in Ellen Scott's mind as she looked out at the audience in the Waldorf-Astoria ballroom and finished her speech. There was another standing ovation.

You're standing up for a dead woman, she thought.

That night the ghosts came back. She thought she had exorcised them long ago. In the beginning, after the memorial services for her brother- and sister-in-law and Patricia, the night visitors had come frequently. Pale mists hovered over her bed and voices whispered in her ear. She would awaken,

her pulse racing, but there would be nothing to see. She had told none of this to Milo. He was weak, and it might have terrified him into doing something foolish, something that would jeopardize the company. If the truth got out, the scandal would destroy Scott Industries, and Ellen was determined that that must never happen. And so she suffered the ghosts in silence, until finally they went away and left her in peace.

Now, the night of the banquet, they returned. She awakened and sat up in her bed and looked around. The room was empty and quiet, but she knew they had been there. What were they trying to tell her? Did they know she would be joining them soon?

Ellen rose and walked into the spacious, antique-filled drawing room of the beautiful townhouse she had bought after

Milo passed away. She looked around the lovely room and thought: Poor Milo. He had not had time to enjoy any of the benefits of his brother's death. He had died of a heart attack a year after the plane crash, and Ellen Scott had taken over the company, running it with an efficiency and expertise that had catapulted Scott Industries into greater international prominence.

The company belongs to the Scott family, she thought. I'm not going to turn it over to faceless strangers.

And that led her thoughts to Byron and Susan's daughter.

The rightful heiress to the throne that had been stolen from her. Was there fear in her thoughts? Was it a wish to make an atonement before her own death?

Ellen Scott sat in her drawing room all night, staring into nothingness, thinking and planning. How long ago had it been? Twenty-eight years. Patricia would be a grown woman now, assuming that she was still alive. What had her life become? Had she married a farmer or a merchant in the village? Did she have children? Was she still living in

Ávila, or had she gone away to some other place?

I must find her, Ellen thought. And quickly. If Patricia is still alive, I've got to see her, talk to her. I have to finally set the account straight. Money can turn lies into truth. I'll find a way to solve the situation without ever letting her know what really happened.

The following morning, Ellen sent for Alan Tucker, chief of security for Scott Industries. He was a former detective in his forties, a thin, balding, sallow-looking man,

hard-working and brilliant.

"I want you to go on a mission for me."

"Yes, Mrs. Scott."

She studied him a moment, wondering how much she could tell him. I can tell him nothing, she decided. As long as I am alive, I refuse to put myself or the company in jeopardy.

Let him find Patricia first, and then I'll decide how to handle her.

She leaned forward. "Twenty-eight years ago, an orphan was left on the doorstep of a farmhouse outside Ávila, Spain. I want you to find out where she is today and bring her back here to me as quickly as possible."

Alan Tucker's face remained impassive. Mrs. Scott did not like her employees to show emotion.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll leave tomorrow."

Colonel Ramón Acoña was in an expansive mood. All the pieces were finally falling into place. An orderly came into his office. "Colonel Sostelo has arrived."

"Show him in."

I won't be needing him anymore, Acoña thought. He can go back to his tin soldiers.

Colonel Fal Sostelo walked in. "Colonel."

"Colonel."

It's ironic, Sostelo thought. We hold the same rank, but the scarred giant has the power to break me. Because he's connected to the OPUS MUNDO.

It was an indignity for Sostelo to have to answer Acoña's summons as though he were some unimportant subordinate. But he managed to show none of his feelings. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes." Acoña waved him to a chair. "Sit down. I have some news for you. Jaime Miró has the nuns."

"What?"

"Yes. They're traveling with Miró and his men. He's split them up into three groups."

"How—how do you know that?"

Ramón Acoña leaned back in his chair. "Do you play chess?"

"No."

"Pity. It's a very educational game. In order to be a good player, it's necessary to get into the mind of your opponent.

Jaime Miró and I play chess with each other."