Master of the Game

Kate was in the library when Tony walked in, very drunk.

"I t-talked to D-dominique," he said. "You t-two m-must have had a w-wonderful time 1-laughing at me behind my back."

Kate felt a quick sense of alarm. "Tony – "

"From now on I want you to s-stay out of my p-personal l-life. Do you hear me?" And he turned and staggered out of the room.

Kate watched him go, and she was suddenly filled with a terrible sense of foreboding.

Chapter 20

The following day, Tony took an apartment in Greenwich Village. There were no more sociable dinners with his mother. He kept his relationship with Kate on an impersonal, businesslike basis. From time to time Kate made conciliatory overtures, which Tony ignored.

Kate’s heart ached. But she had done what was right for Tony. Just as she had once done what was right for David. She could not have let either of them leave the company. Tony was the one human being in the world Kate loved, and she watched as he became more and more insular, drawing deep within himself, rejecting everyone. He had no friends. Where once he had been warm and outgoing, he was now cool and reserved. He had built a wall around himself that no one was able to breach. He needs a wife to care for him, Kate thought. And a son to carry on. I must help him. I must.

Brad Rogers came into Kate’s office and said, "I’m afraid we’re in for some more trouble, Kate."

"What’s happened?"

He put a cable on her desk. "The South African Parliament has outlawed the Natives’ Representative Council and passed the Communist Act."

Kate said, "My God!" The act had nothing to do with communism. It stated that anyone who disagreed with any government policy and tried to change it in any way was guilty under the Communist Act and could be imprisoned.

"It’s their way of breaking the black resistance movement," she said. "If – " She was interrupted by her secretary.

"There’s an overseas call for you. It’s Mr. Pierce in Johannesburg."

Jonathan Pierce was the manager of the Johannesburg branch office. Kate picked up the phone. "Hello, Johnny. How are you?"

"Fine, Kate. I have some news I thought you’d better be aware of."

"What’s that?"

"I’ve just received a report that the police have captured Banda."

Kate was on the next flight to Johannesburg. She had alerted the company lawyers to see what could be done for Banda. Even the power and prestige of Kruger-Brent, Ltd., might not be able to help him. He had been designated an enemy of the state, and she dreaded to think what his punishment would be. At least she must see him and talk to him and offer what support she could.

When the plane landed in Johannesburg, Kate went to her office and telephoned the director of prisons.

"He’s in an isolation block, Mrs. Blackwell, and he’s allowed no visitors. However, in your case, I will see what can be done…"

The following morning, Kate was at the Johannesburg prison, face to face with Banda. He was manacled and shackled, and there was a glass partition between them. His hair was completely white. Kate had not known what to expect – despair, defiance – but Banda grinned when he saw her and said, "I knew you’d come. You’re just like your daddy. You can’t stay away from trouble, can you?"

"Look who’s talking," Kate retorted. "Bloody hell! How do we get you out of here?"

"In a box. That’s the only way they’re going to let me go."

"I have a lot of fancy lawyers who – "

"Forget it, Kate. They caught me fair and square. Now I’ve got to get away fair and square."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don’t like cages, I never did. And they haven’t built one yet that can keep me."

Kate said, "Banda, don’t try it. Please. They’ll kill you."

"Nothing can kill me," Banda said. "You’re talking to a man who lived through sharks and land mines and guard dogs." A soft gleam came into his eyes. "You know something, Kate? I think maybe that was the best time of my life."

When Kate went to visit Banda the next day, the superintendent said, "I’m sorry, Mrs. Blackwell. We’ve had to move him for security reasons."

"Where is he?"

"I’m not at liberty to say."

When Kate woke up the following morning, she saw the headline in the newspaper carried in with her breakfast tray. It read: REBEL LEADER KILLED WHILE TRYING TO ESCAPE PRISON. She was at the prison an hour later, in the superintendent’s office.

"He was shot during an attempted prison break, Mrs. Black-well. That’s all there is to it."

You’re wrong, thought Kate, there’s more. Much more. Banda was dead, but was his dream of freedom for his people dead?

Two days later, after making the funeral arrangements, Kate was on the plane to New York. She looked out the window to take one last look at her beloved land. The soil was red and rich and fertile, and in the bowels of its earth were treasures beyond man’s dreams. This was God’s chosen land, and He had been lavish in his generosity. But there was a curse upon the country. I’ll never come back here again, Kate thought sadly. Never.

One of Brad Rogers’s responsibilities was to oversee the Long-Range Planning Department of Kruger-Brent, Ltd. He was brilliant at finding businesses that would make profitable acquisitions.

One day in early May, he walked into Kate Blackwell’s office. "I’ve come across something interesting, Kate." He placed two folders on her desk. "Two companies. If we could pick up either one of them, it would be a coup."

"Thanks, Brad. I’ll look them over tonight."

That evening, Kate dined alone and studied Brad Rogers’s confidential reports on the two companies – Wyatt Oil & Tool and International Technology. The reports were long and detailed, and both ended with the letters NIS, the company code for Not Interested in Selling, which meant that if the companies were to be acquired, it would take more than a straightforward business transaction to accomplish it. And, Kate thought, they’re well worth taking over. Each company was privately controlled by a wealthy and strong-minded individual, which eliminated any possibility of a takeover attempt. It was a challenge, and it had been a long time since Kate had faced a challenge. The more she thought about it, the more the possibilities began to excite her. She studied again the confidential balance sheets. Wyatt Oil & Tool was owned by a Texan, Charlie Wyatt, and the company’s assets included producing oil wells, a utility company and dozens of potentially profitable oil leases. There was no question about it, Wyatt Oil & Tool would make a handsome acquisition for Kruger-Brent, Ltd.