"I warned Zimmerman."
"Get rid of the bastard."
"We can't find him."
"Why not?"
'The blacks have him. The situation's out of control."
Jamie grabbed his hat. "Stay here and take care of things until I get back."
"I don't think it's safe for you to go up there, Mr. McGregor. The native that Zimmerman killed was from the Barolong tribe. They don't forgive, and they don't forget. I could—"
But Jamie was gone.
When Jamie McGregor was ten miles away from the diamond field, he could see the smoke. All the huts at the Namib had been set to the torch. The damned fools! Jamie thought. They're burning their own houses. As his carriage drew closer, he heard the sounds of gunshots and screams. Amid the mass confusion, uniformed constables were shooting at blacks and coloreds who were desperately trying to flee. The whites were outnumbered ten to one, but they had the weapons.
When the chief constable, Bernard Sothey, saw Jamie McGregor, he hurried up to him and said, "Don't worry, Mr. McGregor. We'll get every last one of the bastards."
"The hell you will," Jamie cried. "Order your men to stop shooting."
"What? If we—"
"Do as I say!" Jamie watched, sick with rage, as a black woman fell under a hail of bullets. "Call your men off."
"As you say, sir." The chief constable gave orders to an aide, and three minutes later all shooting had stopped.
There were bodies on the ground everywhere. "If you want my advice," Sothey said, 'I'd—"
"I don't want your advice. Bring me their leader."
Two policemen brought a young black up to where Jamie was standing. He was handcuffed and covered with blood, but there was no fear in him. He stood tall and straight, his eyes blazing, and Jamie remembered Banda's word for Bantu pride: isiko.
"I'm Jamie McGregor."
The man spat.
"What happened here was not my doing. I want to make it up to your men."
"Tell that to their widows."
Jamie turned to Sothey. "Where's Hans Zimmerman?"
"We're still looking for him, sir."
Jamie saw the gleam in the black man's eyes, and he knew that Hans Zimmerman was not going to be found.
He said to the man, "I'm closing the diamond field down for three days. I want you to talk to your people. Make a list of your complaints, and I'll look at it. I promise you I'll be fair. I'll change everything here that's not right."
The man studied him, a look of skepticism on his face.
"There will be a new foreman in charge here, and decent working conditions. But I'll expect your men back at work in three days."
The chief constable said, incredulously, "You mean you're gonna let him go? He killed some of my men."
"There will be a full investigation, and—"
There was the sound of a horse galloping toward them, and Jamie turned. It was David Blackwell, and the unexpected sight of him sounded an alarm in Jamie's mind.
David leaped off his horse. "Mr. McGregor, your son has disappeared."
The world suddenly grew cold.
Half the population of Klipdrift turned out to join in the search. They covered the countryside, looking through gulleys, ravines and klops. There was no trace of the boy.
Jamie was like a man possessed. He's wandered away somewhere, that's all He'll be back.
He went into Margaret's bedroom. She was lying in bed, nursing the baby.
"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 co
uld 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 reminds 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.
Margaret said aloud, "Which are you going to be, Kate?"
It was a time of great expansion in South Africa, but it was also a time of great strife. There was a long-standing Transvaal dispute between the Boers and the British, and it finally came to a head. On Thursday, October 12, 1899, on Kate's seventh birthday, the British declared war on the Boers, and three days later the Orange Free State was under attack. David tried to persuade Margaret to take Kate and leave South Africa, but Margaret refused to go.
"My husband is here," she said.
There was nothing David could do to dissuade her. "I'm going to join with the Boers," David told her. "Will you be all right?"
"Yes, of course," Margaret said. "I'll try to keep the company going." The next morning David was gone.
The British had expected a quick and easy war, no more than a mopping-up operation, and they began with a confident, light-hearted holiday spirit. At the Hyde Park Barracks in London, a send-off supper was given, with a special menu showing a British soldier holding up the head of a boar on a tray. The menu read:
SEND-OFF SUPPER TO the CAPE SQUADRON,
November 27, 1899
MENU
Oysters—Blue Points
Compo Soup
Toady in the Hole
Sandy Sole
Mafeking Mutton
Transvaal Turnips. Cape Sauce
Pretoria Pheasants
White Sauce
Tinker Taters
Peace Pudding. Massa Ices
Dutch Cheese
Dessert
(You are requested not to throw shells under the tables)
Boer Whines—Long Tom
Hollands-in-Skin
Orange Wine
The British were in for a surprise. The Boers were on their own home territory, and they were tough and determined. The first battle of the war took place in Mafeking, hardly more than a village, and for the first time, the British began to realize what they were up against. More troops were quickly sent over from England. They laid siege to Kimberley, and it was only after a fierce and bloody fight that they went on to take Ladysmith. The cannons of the Boers had a longer range than those of the British, so long-range guns were removed from British warships, moved inland and manned by sailors hundreds of miles from their ships.
In Klipdrift, Margaret listened eagerly for news of each battle, and she and those around her lived on rumors, their moods varying from elation to despair, depending on the news. And then one morning one of Margaret's employees came running into her office and said, "I just heard a report that the British are advancing on Klipdrift. They're going to kill us all!"
"Nonsense. They wouldn't dare touch us."
Five hours later, Margaret McGregor was a prisoner of war.
Margaret and Kate were taken to Paardeberg, one of the hundreds of prison camps that had sprung up all over South Africa. The prisoners were kept inside an enormous open field, ringed by barbed wire and guarded by armed British soldiers. The conditions were deplorable.
Margaret took Kate in her arms and said, "Don't worry, darling, nothing's going to happen to you."
But neither of them believed it. Each day became a calendar of horrors. They watched those around them die by the tens and the hundreds and then by the thousands as fever swept through the camp. There were no doctors or medication for the wounded, and food was scarce. It was a constant nightmare that went on for almost three harrowing years. The worst of it was the feeling of utter helplessness. Margaret and Kate were at the complete mercy of their captors. They were dependent upon them for meals and shelter, for their very lives. Kate lived in terror. She watched the children around her die, and she was afraid that she would be next. She was powerless to protect her mother or herself, and it was a lesson she was never to forget. Power. If you had power, you had food. You had medicine. You
I had freedom. She saw those around her fall ill and die, and she equated power with life. One day, Kate thought, I'll have power. No one will be able to do this to me again.
The violent battles went on—Belmont and Graspan and Stormberg and Spioenkop—but in the end, the brave Boers were no match for the might of the British Empire. In 1902, after nearly three years of bloody war, the Boers surrendered. Fifty-five thousand Boers fought, and thirty-four thousand of their soldiers, women and children died. But what filled the survivors with a deep savage bitterness was the knowledge that twenty-eight thousand of those died in British concentration camps.
On the day the gates of the camp were flung open, Margaret and Kate returned to Klipdrift. A few weeks later, on a quiet Sunday, David Blackwell arrived. The war had matured him, but he was still the same grave, thoughtful Da
vid Margaret had learned to rely upon. David had spent these hellish years fighting and worrying about whether Margaret and Kate were dead or alive. When he found them safe at home, he was filled with joy.
"I wish I could have protected you both," David told Margaret.
"That's all past, David. We must think only of the future."
And the future was Kruger-Brent, Ltd.
For the world, the year 1900 was a clean slate on which history was going to be written, a new era that promised peace and limitless hope for everyone. A new century had begun, and it brought with it a series of astonishing inventions that reshaped life around the globe. Steam and electric automobiles were replaced by the combustion engine. There were submarines and airplanes. The world population exploded to a billion and a half people. It was a time to grow and expand, and during the next six years, Margaret and David took full advantage of every opportunity.
During those years, Kate grew up with almost no supervision. Her mother was too busy running the company with David to pay much attention to her. She was a wild child, stubborn and opinionated and intractable. One afternoon when Margaret came home from a business meeting, she saw her fourteen-year-old daughter in the muddy yard in a fistfight with two boys. Margaret stared in horrified disbelief.
"Bloody hell!" she said under her breath. "That's the girl who one day is going to run Kruger-Brent, Limited! God help us all!"
BOOK TWO
Kate and David 1906-1914
On a hot summer night in 1914, Kate McGregor was working alone in her office at the new Kruger-Brent, Ltd., headquarters building in Johannesburg when she heard the sound of approaching automobiles. She put down the papers she had been studying, walked over to the window and looked out. Two cars of police and a paddy wagon had come to a stop in front of the building. Kate watched, frowning, as half a dozen uniformed policemen leaped from the cars and hurried to cover the two entrances and exits to the building. It was late, and the streets were deserted. Kate caught a wavy reflection of herself in the window. She was a beautiful woman, with her father's light-gray eyes and her mother's full figure.
There was a knock at the office door and Kate called, "Come in."
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