Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

“Damn!” he said incredulously. “We almost made it.”

“We did make it! Give me those diamonds!”

Banda handed him the folded shirt. “What do you—?”

“Follow me.”

“Those guards with the guns at the gate,” Banda said in a low voice, “they’ll know we don’t belong here.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Jamie told him.

The two men moved toward the guards, drifting between the line of departing workers and the line of arriving workers who were yelling at one another, exchanging good-natured catcalls.

“You fellas gonna work your asses off, man. We got a nice sleep in the mis…”

“How did you arrange for the mis, you lucky bastards…?”

“God listens to me. He ain’t gonna listen to you. You’re bad…”

Jamie and Banda reached the gate. Two huge armed guards stood inside, herding the departing workers over to a small tin hut where they would be thoroughly searched. They strip them down mother-naked and then they look up and down every hole they’ve got. Jamie clutched the tattered shirt in his hand more tightly. He pushed through the line of workers and walked up to a guard. “Excuse me, sir,” Jamie said. “Who do we see about a job here?”

Banda was staring at him, petrified.

The guard turned to face Jamie. “What the hell are you doin’ inside the fence?”

“We came in to look for work. I heard there was an opening for a guard, and my servant can dig. I thought—”

The guard eyed the two ragged, disreputable-looking figures. “Get the hell back outside!”

“We don’t want to go outside,” Jamie protested. “We need jobs, and I was told—”

“This is a restricted area, mister. Didn’t you see the signs? Now get the hell out. Both of you!” He pointed to a large bullock wagon outside the fence, filling with the workers who had finished their shift. “That wagon’ll take you to Port Nolloth. If you want a job, you have to apply at the company office there.”

“Oh. Thank you, sir,” Jamie said. He beckoned to Banda, and the two men moved out through the gate to freedom.

The guard glared after them. “Stupid idiots.”

 

 

Ten minutes later, Jamie and Banda were on their way to Port Nolloth. They were carrying with them diamonds worth half a million pounds.

 

 

6

 

The expensive carriage rolled down the dusty main street of Klipdrift, drawn by two beautiful matched bays. At the reins was a slender, athletic-looking man with snow-white hair, a white beard and mustache. He was dressed in a fashionably tailored gray suit and ruffled shirt, and in his black cravat was a diamond stickpin. He wore a gray top hat, and on his little finger was a large, sparkling diamond ring. He appeared to be a stranger to the town, but he was not.

Klipdrift had changed considerably since Jamie McGregor had left it a year earlier. It was 1884, and it had grown from a camp to a township. The railway had been completed from Cape Town to Hopetown, with a branch running to Klipdrift, and this had created a whole new wave of immigrants. The town was even more crowded than Jamie remembered, but the people seemed different. There were still many prospectors, but there were also men in business suits and well-dressed matrons walking in and out of stores. Klipdrift had acquired a patina of respectability.

Jamie passed three new dance halls and half a dozen new saloons. He drove by a recently built church and barbershop, and a large hotel called the Grand. He stopped in front of a bank and alighted from the carriage, carelessly tossing the reins to a native boy.

“Water them.”

Jamie entered the bank and said to the manager in a loud voice, “I wish to deposit one hundred thousand pounds in your bank.”

 

 

The word spread quickly, as Jamie had known it would, and by the time he left the bank and entered the Sundowner Saloon, he was the center of interest. The interior of the saloon had not changed. It was crowded, and curious eyes followed Jamie as he walked up to the bar. Smit nodded deferentially. “What would you like, sir?” There was no recognition on the bartender’s face.