Master of the Game. Sidney Sheldon

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had. People stared as he rode into town and stopped in front of Van der Merwe’s general store. It was not just the expensive horse and carriage that drew the attention of the passers-by; it was the air of jubilation about the young man. They had seen it before in other prospectors who had struck it rich, and it always filled them with a renewed sense of hope for themselves. They stood back and watched as Jamie jumped out of the carriage.

      The same large black man was there. Jamie grinned at him. ‘Hello! I’m back.’

      Banda tied the reins to a hitching post without comment and went inside the store. Jamie followed him.

      Salomon van der Merwe was waiting on a customer. The little Dutchman looked up and smiled, and Jamie knew that somehow Van der Merwe had already heard the news. No one could explain it, but news of a diamond strike flashed across the continent with the speed of light.

      When Van der Merwe had finished with the customer, he nodded his head towards the back of the store. ‘Come, Mr McGregor.’

      Jamie followed him. Van der Merwe’s daughter was at the stove, preparing lunch. ‘Hello, Margaret.’

      She flushed and looked away.

      ‘Well! I hear there is good news.’ Van der Merwe beamed. He seated himself at the table and pushed the plate and silverware away, clearing a place in front of him.

      ‘That’s right, sir.’ Proudly, Jamie took a large leather pouch from his jacket pocket and poured the diamonds on the kitchen table. Van der Merwe stared at them, hypnotized, then picked them up slowly, one by one, savoring each one, saving the largest until last. Then he scooped up the diamonds, put them in a chamois bag and put the bag in a large iron safe in the corner and locked it.

      When he spoke, there was a note of deep satisfaction in his voice. ‘You’ve done well, Mr McGregor. Very well, indeed.’

      ‘Thank you, sir. This is only the beginning. There are hundreds more there. I don’t even dare think about how much they’re worth.’

      ‘And you’ve staked out the claim properly?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’ Jamie reached in his pocket and pulled out the registration slip. ‘It’s registered in both our names.’

      Van der Merwe studied the slip, then put it in his pocket. ‘You deserve a bonus. Wait here.’ He started towards the doorway that led into the shop. ‘Come along, Margaret.’

      She followed him meekly, and Jamie thought, She’s like a frightened kitten.

      A few minutes later, Van der Merwe returned, alone. ‘Here we are.’ He opened a purse and carefully counted out fifty pounds.

      Jamie looked at him, puzzled. ‘What’s this for, sir?’

      ‘For you, son. All of it.’

      ‘I – I don’t understand.’

      ‘You’ve been gone twenty-four weeks. At two pounds a week, that’s forty-eight pounds, and I’m giving you an extra two pounds as a bonus.’

      Jamie laughed. ‘I don’t need a bonus. I have my share of the diamonds.’

      ‘Your share of the diamonds?’

      ‘Why, yes, sir. My fifty percent. We’re partners.’

      Van der Merwe was staring at him. ‘Partners? Where did you get that idea?’

      ‘Where did I –?’ Jamie looked at the Dutchman in bewilderment. ‘We have a contract.’

      ‘That is correct. Have you read it?’

      ‘Well, no, sir. It’s in Afrikaans, but you said we were fifty-fifty partners.’

      The older man shook his head. ‘You misunderstood me, Mr McGregor, I don’t need any partners. You were working for me. I outfitted you and sent you to find diamonds for me.’

      Jamie could feel a slow rage boiling up within him. ‘You gave me nothing. I paid you a hundred and twenty pounds for that equipment.’

      The old man shrugged. ‘I won’t waste my valuable time quibbling. Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you an extra five pounds, and we’ll call the whole thing quits. I think that’s very generous.’

      Jamie exploded in a fury. ‘We’ll nae call the whole thing quits!’ In his anger his Scottish burr came back. ‘I’m entitled to half that claim. And I’ll get it. I registered it in both our names.’

      Van der Merwe smiled thinly. ‘Then you tried to cheat me. I could have you arrested for that.’ He shoved the money into Jamie’s hand. ‘Now take your wages and get out.’

      ‘I’ll fight you!’

      ‘Do you have money for a lawyer? I own them all in these parts, boy.’

      This isn’t happening to me, Jamie thought. It’s a nightmare. The agony he had gone through, the weeks and months of the burning desert, the punishing physical labour from sunrise to sunset – it all came flooding back. He had nearly died, and now this man was trying to cheat him out of what was his.

      He looked Van der Merwe in the eye. ‘I’ll not let you get away with this. I’m not going to leave Klipdrift. I’ll tell everybody here what you’ve done. I’m going to get my share of those diamonds.’

      Van der Merwe started to turn away from the fury in the pale grey eyes. ‘You’d better find a doctor, boy,’ he muttered. ‘I think the sun has addled your wits.’

      In a second, Jamie was towering over Van der Merwe. He pulled the thin figure into the air and held him up to eye level. ‘I’m going to make you sorry you ever laid eyes on me.’ He dropped Van der Merwe to his feet, flung the money on the table and stormed out.

      

      When Jamie McGregor walked into the Sundowner Saloon, it was almost deserted, for most of the prospectors were on their way to Paardspan. Jamie was filled with anger and despair. It’s incredible, he thought. One minute I’m as rich as Croesus, and the next minute I’m dead broke. Van der Merwe is a thief, and I’m going to find a way to punish him. But how? Van der Merwe was right. Jamie could not even afford a lawyer to fight his case. He was a stranger there, and Van der Merwe was a respected member of the community. The only weapon Jamie had was the truth. He would let everyone in South Africa know what Van der Merwe had done.

      Smit, the bartender, greeted him. ‘Welcome back. Everything’s on the house, Mr McGregor. What would you like?’

      ‘A whiskey.’

      Smit poured a double and set it in front of Jamie. Jamie downed it in one gulp. He was not used to drinking, and the hard liquor scorched his throat and stomach.

      ‘Another, please.’

      ‘Comin’ up. I’ve always said the Scots could drink anybody under the table.’

      The second drink went down easier. Jamie remembered that it was the bartender who had told a digger to go to Van der Merwe for help. ‘Did you know Old Man Van der Merwe is a crook? He’s trying

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