Rick Brant 8 The Caves of Fear

by John Blaine

  “You’re not going to your ancestors,” Zircon replied scornfully. “I doubt that they’d have you. In case you’re interested, Rick’s bullet merely plowed a nice, round hole through some of the fat on your right side. You haven’t even lost enough blood to make the wound interesting.”

  Ko’s voice was suddenly animated. “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure. No, don’t try to get up. Stay where you are. If you try to run I’ll order our seeing-eye marksman to finish the job.” Zircon continued, “Rick, Scotty, Chahda. Stay where you are. I saw some torches stacked in one of the tents. I’ll get them and be right back.”

  The three boys assured him that they wouldn’t move. Rick, for one, had no intention of prowling about in the blackness.

  While they waited, Scotty asked, “What happened to you, Rick?”

  Rick hesitated. He couldn’t give an adequate account of what he had experienced during the recent hours. Or was it weeks? He summed it up. “After we got separated, I couldn’t find you again. I wandered around. Then I sat down in a big cave and fell asleep. When I woke, there was a Tibetan with a candle. I followed him to a boat landing, slugged him, and rowed across the lake. He’s waiting, tied up, across the lake at the spot from where I fired. How about you?”

  “We look for you,” Chahda said. “We look a long time, and almost get lost ourself.”

  “Finally we decided we’d better push on and find Long Shadow,” Scotty continued. “We tracked the drippings from the candles for hours. It was slow work. Then, while we were resting, we got jumped from behind. They didn’t even have to bother about lights, because one of our flashlights was on, and it was getting so weak we couldn’t see more than ten feet. They came out of the darkness with a rush and there we were. They made us walk to the boat landing, called the boats from here, and brought us over. We’ve been sitting in one of those tents for hours. You know the rest.”

  How rapidly they could cover the tortured hours of travel in a few words, Rick thought. But he said only, “I’m glad we’re all together again.”

  “How you see in dark?” Chahda asked.

  Rick explained briefly. The Hindu boy chuckled. “Plenty mystery for one who not know, you bet! I scared myself, like the men who ran.”

  Then Zircon came back. He brought out matches and in a moment torches were blazing again. They bandaged the two enemies as best they could, using clean handkerchiefs which Chahda and Scotty carried. And Rick got his first good look at Long Shadow’s face.

  The man was incredibly thin. His skin was stretched over the bones of his face like parchment, and it had a sallow ivory tinge even in the ruddy torchlight. His eyes were black, with just the faintest hint of a Mongoloid fold.

  “Are you a Eurasian?” Rick asked bluntly.

  “Yes.” Long Shadow smiled. “I’m one quarter Burmese. The other three-quarters doesn’t matter.”

  “You know our names,” Rick said. “I’m sure you do. But we don’t know yours.”

  Long Shadow laughed. “You could never pronounce my Burmese name and the other name I use is of no importance.”

  Zircon and the others had been listening. Now the scientist said, “We’ll have plenty of chance to talk, Rick. At the moment I’m concerned with getting out of here. After a bit of exploration of course. It’s almost certain that the heavy water comes from here. Although I don’t know the source.”

  Scotty motioned toward the Lake of Darkness. “Bradley said to bring a Nansen bottle and a rubber boat. He must have known about this. Why would he say to bring a Nansen bottle if not to take a sample from the lake?”

  Zircon flashed a look at Long Shadow. The Eurasian smiled gently. “That’s a good question Mr. Scott asked,” he told them. “But don’t look to me for the answer.”

  “Search the tents,” Zircon ordered. “Chahda, keep an eye on our two friends.”

  The three Americans walked to the felt tents and began searching through them. Zircon used the infrared camera. Rick and Scotty took torches.

  Rick was feeling through a pile of furs when Zircon called, “Here are the flashlights!”

  Zircon’s had run down, but Scotty’s, and Chahda’s big lights were still useful. They made the search much easier. Rick went back to the pile of skins and found that they were plastic-lined water bags, similar to the ones they had found on the way to Korse Lenken. Then, stacked in a corner of the tent, he found some Nansen bottles!

  At the same moment, Scotty called from the next tent. “Look what I found!”

  He had located the ammunition supply. There was powder and ball for the old muskets the Tibetans used, two boxes of machine pistol cartridges, and a small case of grenades!

  “Now we know where Ko got the one he tried to use on us,” Rick said. “But where did they come from in the first place?”

  “The war,” Scotty guessed. “There must be tons of ammo and ordnance of all kinds floating around China. What makes me wonder is why the Tibetans don’t have modern rifles.”

  “I suspect the answer is their natural conservatism,” Zircon suggested. “They are slow to change. And such guns as they use are handed down from father to son. I don’t doubt that modern rifles were offered them and that they refused.”

  Rick knew something of the Oriental mind, although not much, and he realized that Zircon was probably right. In a land of ancestor worship, change was resisted.

  Scotty stuffed grenades in each pocket. “Just in case we get into a fight on the way out,” he explained.

  Rick was glad to leave the deadly things to his friend. Scotty knew about grenades from his tour of duty in the Marines; he had thrown more than a few himself.

  “Nansen bottles in the next tent, professor,” Rick said. “There must be something to this business of getting stuff out of the lake. But golly, you don’t get heavy water out of natural water, do you?”

  “I don’t know,” Zircon said. “There is only one precedent I can think of. Have you ever heard of Lake Baikal?”

  Neither boy had.

  “It’s a very large lake in Siberia, just above Mongolia,” the scientist told them. “It is also very deep. A few years ago, before the Iron Curtain closed down, word came out of Russia that some scientists had succeeded in getting heavy water samples out of Baikal. That is the only precedent that I know.

  “It is true,” he continued, “that heavy water has a tendency to sink. Naturally enough, since it is heavier. But for enough to form on the bottom of a body of water, there would have to be great depth and complete calm. Any current would stir the water up and the heavy water would merge with the normal once more.”

  “In other words, you need a lake like this one,” Rick concluded.

  “I must admit it fits the requirements,” Zircon agreed. “And we’ve seen no sign of an industrial plant. These caverns certainly would be no place for one.”

  “We can soon tell,” Scotty suggested. “Let’s take a sample. When we get out, you can test it.”

  “Quite right,” Zircon said. “And let’s be quick about it.”

  It didn’t take long to discover the reason for the odd little derricks on the barge. Each was equipped with a pulley and a reel of wire. Obviously, it was from here that the Nansen bottles were lowered.

  While Chahda and Scotty remained on shore, Zircon and Rick pushed the barge out into the lake. Rick got a Nansen bottle ready.

  The bottle was made of metal, each end equipped with a spring cap. The bottle was lowered on a wire with the ends open, permitting water to flow through it freely. When it reached the desired depth, a metal weight called a “messenger” was attached to the wire and dropped. The weight of the messenger released devices that closed the caps, thus trapping the water sample inside. A brass spigot on the side permitted the sample to be taken out easily when the bottle was hauled up again.

  They had brought four bottles from Long Shadow’s stores. The first one was lowered to the very bottom, and it took a long time getting there. The reel of wire wit
h which the barge was equipped ran out and out until a full seven hundred feet of it had disappeared into the dark depths of the lake. Rick was glad the reel of wire had a geared handle. Pulling that weight up would be no fun.

  Once the slackening of the wire told them that bottom had been reached, Zircon put the messenger on the wire and let it go. Seconds later, a tug on the wire told them it had struck and Rick reeled in.

  Other samples were taken at five, ten, and fifteen feet from the bottom. Zircon marked the bottles, then they paddled back to shore.

  Long Shadow spoke up. “Of course you have testing equipment?”

  “At our camp near Korse Lenken,” Zircon assured him.

  “You’ll find what you expect,” the Eurasian said.

  “Thank you. And now, we’ll also thank you to lead us out of here.”

  “No,” Long Shadow said.

  “You’re beaten,” Zircon said reasonably. “Why not admit it and co-operate? We’ve nothing against you even if there were law in Tibet. See us to the outside and open the barred gate and you’re at liberty to go.”

  Rick started to protest, then he realized Zircon was right. Law in this part of the world was the law of the rifle. There was nothing they could do to Long Shadow or Ko.

  Long Shadow considered. “I suppose you’re right. My little business deal is over, at least for the time being.” He raised his voice and yelled in Tibetan.

  The boys grabbed up their rifles as Tibetan heads showed from the caves, black eyes blinking in fear.

  “They will carry me and Ko,” Long Shadow said calmly. “Now let us be on our way.” He smiled. “I must admit I have a selfish interest in all this worry about getting to the outside. This ankle is beginning to hurt, and I won’t mind having one of the lamas with medical skill take a look at it.”

  “How about letting a Hong Kong police doctor take a look at it?” Rick asked. Long Shadow’s cheerfulness was getting on his nerves. The man acted more like a guest than a prisoner.

  “I don’t think we need go that far,” Long Shadow replied. “The lamas are quite capable.”

  “I wasn’t concerned about your ankle,” Rick corrected. “I was thinking that the Hong Kong police might like to get their hands on the kind of citizen who goes around shooting up hotels with a Schmeisser machine pistol.”

  Long Shadow stopped smiling abruptly. “You couldn’t prove that,” he said swiftly.

  “Why not?” Scotty asked. “We’ll let the police see if the slugs from your machine pistol don’t match those in the hotel wall. By the way, where is the Schmeisser? I haven’t seen it around.”

  Long Shadow recovered his grin. “You’ll never see it again. I took the precaution of disposing of it, in case the police in the hotel area had been alerted. Don’t bother to ask me how I got rid of it.”

  “We won’t,” Zircon replied. “Obviously, you wouldn’t tell us. However, perhaps you will tell us how long it will take to get out of here?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  At their evident surprise, Long Shadow added, “I should have said once we cross the lake it will take about ten minutes. You came a very long way around, you see. I realize you followed the candle droppings, but I’m afraid those were left some time ago, when I first explored the cave. The first entrance you tried was the correct one, even though you didn’t suspect the presence of a door. When you took the open way, you approached by a very twisting path.”

  “Just to satisfy my curiosity,” Scotty asked, “why did your men capture us, then bundle us into the boats and bring us here? And where were you all that time?”

  Long Shadow shrugged. “I knew your guide and bearers were outside, at Korse Lenken, of course. My men have kept an eye on you. I also felt they probably would start a search after you failed to return. It was almost certain they would find the entrance to the caverns behind the Black Buddha, and, like you, they would probably follow the candle drippings. The drippings would lead them nowhere. Unless they found the secret door, there would be no chance of them finding you here in our permanent camp. Hence, I had you brought here. Ko and I were waiting in the cave I use for an office. When we thought time enough had elapsed for my orders to be carried out, we came here. Meanwhile, we took a nap. Are you satisfied?”

  “You never intended that we should see daylight again,” Rick stated. He winked at his friends. “Suppose we tie a few stalactites to your feet, and Ko’s, and see how long it takes for you to get down to where the heavy water is?” He looked meaningly at the lake.

  Ko groaned, but Long Shadow only smiled. “If that’s the way you want it,” he said, “it will at least be quick. Both of us are done for, whether you know it or not. Your Mr. Bradley will see to that.”

  As Long Shadow had said, it was little more than ten minutes after crossing the lake before the party reached the cave under the Black Buddha. They had passed through the cave where Rick had found the Tibetan. Again he realized how lucky he had been. Some good angel had led him to the main route. Had he fallen asleep in some other cave, he might still be wandering through the labyrinth.

  The rifles taken from Scotty and Zircon by Long Shadow’s men had been found in one of the tents. With

  Rick’s rifle, they were insurance against treachery. But Long Shadow seemed resigned, for some reason Rick couldn’t fathom, and Ko did nothing but curse the bearers who carried him.

  Before reaching the great cave they stopped at a blank wall. At a signal from Long Shadow, one of the Tibetans reached behind a stalagmite and pulled a lever. A section of the wall swung open, disclosing the passage they had thought stopped in a dead end.

  In a few moments they were crossing the outer cave, and Rick saw at once that the bars across the entrance passage were gone.

  “When the inner door opens from the inside, the bars also open,” Long Shadow said. “There is another cave under this one where the mechanism is located. No, I am not responsible. The ancient ones who made the Black Buddha also made the doors and the mechanism.”

  Rick ran ahead through the passage. He found the leather thong that controlled the door and pulled. The metal tongue came out of its slot permitting the counterbalance to swing the trap door upward. The others were behind him with their lights, and Rick saw his shadow loom large on the wall behind the Black Buddha. In the same way, the Long Shadow had been projected upward, probably by the light from a candle in the hands of a Tibetan bearer. He experimented, backing down a few steps. His shadow seemed to fold downward into the oblong box of light cast by the flashlights. When he walked up the stairs again, the shadow grew out of the bottom of the projected oblong of light.

  As Rick reached floor level, he froze suddenly, his finger slipping the hammer of his rifle to full cock. There were lights in the cave! As he turned to call a warning, yellow-robed lamas, who had seen the reflected light on the rear wall, poured around the statue with wild yells, their torches held high.

  “Something’s up,” Rick called to the others. “Watch it!”

  Under the threat of Rick’s rifle, then Scotty’s and Zircon’s, the lamas fell back until the group stood alongside the Black Buddha, looking into the cave. There were torches everywhere! And cooking fires. Rick’s first thought was that they had returned in the midst of a religious celebration.

  And then he saw Sing. The Chinese guide ran to them, his face split by a wide grin.

  “You came,” he exclaimed happily. “We were about to tear the mountain down, stone by stone! Where is the Indian boy?”

  Chahda came from behind the statue, herding the Tibetans who carried Long Shadow, Ko, and the Nansen bottles. Sing turned and yelled.

  The lamas broke into cries of approval at the sight of Chahda. Several of them ran to him and pressed his hand. He was a favorite, obviously.

  “They came to help when I told them the Indian boy was in danger,” Sing explained. “We were ready to start digging holes to find the caverns, because we couldn’t find the door.” He eyed Long Shadow curiously
and grinned at the sight of Ko. “Should I get my frying pan again?” he asked.

  “Might be a good idea,” Rick said.

  “My boss not come yet?” Chahda asked.

  Sing clapped hands to his head in a gesture of self-annoyance. “I forgot. A letter came. One of the consulate guards, a Chinese who knows this part of the world, brought it from Chungking. It may be from Mr. Bradley, because it came originally from Hong Kong.

  Zircon took the envelope while Rick, Scotty, and Chahda looked over his shoulder. The envelope was marked for delivery from Hong Kong to Chungking via diplomatic pouch. It was addressed to Zircon, with the note, “Urgent. Forward by messenger.” Bradley’s initials were signed to it.

  The scientist ripped the envelope open and, looking around to be sure Long Shadow and Ko were out of earshot, he read:

  “ ‘Have all the answers except the source. When you find it, destroy it if possible. If you get Long Shadow or Worthington Ko, don’t bother bringing them back to Hong Kong, if they’re still alive. Leave them at Korse Lenken. Cable me from Chungking when you return.”

  It was signed “Bradley.”

  “I like his confidence in us,” Zircon remarked. “Not ‘if,’ but ‘when.’”

  “My boss does not know what it means to fail,” Chahda said.

  “I can see one failure,” Zircon remarked. “How does one destroy a body of water?”

  Scotty’s forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. “Couldn’t we stir it up? The heavy water is all at the bottom. If we could give it a stir, the heavy stuff would mix with the rest.”

  “But would maybe settle right back,” Chahda objected.

  “Not for a few thousand years,” Zircon said. “A good idea, Scotty. Do you happen to have a spoon seven hundred feet long?”

  Scotty grinned. “Yes. Mr. Ko supplied one.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a grenade. “These will do the best job of stirring that black cup of tea that you’ve ever seen.”

  “Capital! Zircon exclaimed. “They’ll do perfectly, Scotty.” He looked at the boys. “Who wants to go back?”