Nick glanced across the table at the girl. She raised her slim shoulders slightly and nodded. Go with him. Humor him. I do not understand either. They were both playing it by ear, feeling their way. Nick had his bearings now, his fixes, and one more day should do it Then they could be on their way.
He followed the old man through a labyrinth of narrow passages. Teng was a little over five feet tall and as straight as an arrow. He always dressed the same — a khaki uniform with a high choker collar, a Sam Browne belt, a row of decorations over his left breast. He was living in a world of fifty years ago. Nick wondered, as he followed that ramrod back now, just how senile, how crazy, the old man really was. He had not seen enough of the old boy to really know. Until now Teng had left them pretty much alone. Nick had seen a eunuch or two, going about their business in long brocade robes. At least Fan Su said they were eunuchs. He had seen none of the concubines, though once he had heard giggles from behind a screened balcony while walking in one of the several courtyards.
Now, walking behind Teng, he remembered Hawk's remark: "What does he do with them?" This was an extraordinary old man. He might just be doing what one did do with concubines!
They crossed a patio where a tiny bridge arched over a pool. Dead lilies floated in the water. It was nearly dark, but a last beam of sunset arched the walls and lay like a cold golden bar on the black water. Somewhere along the edge of the pool a bullfrog let go a bass note.
Teng, all this while unspeaking, led the AXEman through a gate in a wall. They were in another court now. In the center was a solidly built little pagoda of fired brick and painted a dead black. The place reminded Nick unpleasantly of a tomb. Teng unlocked the single door, a massive affair of oak, and stood aside for Nick to enter.
He stood in darkness while Teng went around lighting candles. As the room gradually filled with mellow light, the man from AXE gazed about in wonder and appreciation. The room was circular and floored with marble. On one wall hung a great scroll painting which he recognized as a Tao-chi. Seventeenth Century.
On a pedestal was a bust which could only be Wang Hsiao. Ming dynasty. Nick made appreciative sounds in Cantonese, which they had been speaking.
Teng Fa bowed and, switching to English, said: "A few things which I treasure." He gestured toward a tall screen that stood across one corner of the room. "Later, sir, I may show you my greatest treasure of all. But first I think we must talk. Sit down, please."
Teng had seated himself behind a small desk. He opened a drawer and took out an old Mauser pistol. He pointed it at Nick Carter. His gnarled old hand was steady and the eyes regarded Nick shrewdly from his wrinkled parchment face.
"Now, sir, what is your true name and nationality? What do you want here? And do not make the mistake they have made in Peking — I am neither senile or crazy. At least not as much so as they think. And as you and the girl seem to think. Well, sir? The truth."
Killmaster knew he had been had. Nothing to do but fence, spar a little, and put the best face on it. It could be, he thought, that he had found an ally.
He admitted to being a United States agent, telling as much of the truth as he dared. The old man listened without interruption, the pistol steady on Nick's belly.
When the AXEman paused, Teng said: "You are not after the airfield, then?"
Nick shook his head. "I won't tell you what I'm after, sir, but it is not an airfield. I know nothing of any airfield."
Teng nodded. "I think I believe you. It must be the tunnel then. The tunnel in the Chumbi Valley. There is something very mysterious going on there."
Nick kept his face impassive. "You seem very well informed, sir."
The pistol moved an inch. "It is a game with me. An old man's game. It gives me the illusion that it will still be a little time before I go to join my ancestors. But that is not important — there is an airfield, near Chungtiene. A most secret airfield where they are training pilots for the North Vietnamese."
Teng took a bit of paper from the pages of a book on the desk and glanced at it. "They have Mig 15s and Mig 17s, also a few Ilyushin-28 bombers. I hope I have those names correctly?" He looked at Nick.
Nick Carter smiled and nodded. He was impressed, CIA would be, too, at this serendipity. Maybe they knew about the airfield already. If not, they had recovered their investment. If, of course, he made it out.
He said: "You have them correctly, sir. But why tell me, an enemy agent?"
The papier mâché face cracked in a faint smile. "Not necessarily my enemy. That remains to be seen. I do not like the government in Peking, nor do they care for me. They leave me alone because they believe me to be harmless and insane. Also they know I am not afraid of them. When you are as old as I am you are not afraid of anything. Nothing, that is, but dishonor and loss of face." He moved the pistol and glanced down at it. "I can always see to it that that does not happen."
Before Nick could say anything the old man continued: "I would appreciate it if you would call me General Teng from now on."
The AXE agent's eyes narrowed a bit, but nodded. It was the first slight indication that the old man might be a little around the bend.
"Yes, General. Of course. I take it, then, that we are not enemies? You will help me if you can?"
In the last minute or so a subtle change had come over Teng. He sat straighter in his chair and his eyes held a glitter they had not had before. Paranoia? Nick wondered. At his great age there was almost certain to be some trace of it, and it was a condition that came and went.
Teng nodded. "I may help you. Not out of charity, or because I love Americans, but because it will also help me. A mutual arrangement. You understand?"
"I understand," said Nick. And he did understand. Teng was a little nuts, more than a little dangerous when in the wrong mood — and just might be of enormous help. He played along.
Teng put the pistol on the desk beside him. He opened a drawer, then halted the motion and looked at Nick. "You are armed?"
Killmaster flicked the stiletto into his hand and held it out. "I have a Luger, too, General. I could have killed you at any time."
The old man smiled faintly. He pushed the Mauser away with his finger. "Perhaps… perhaps. I am not as fast as I was."
He took a bulging manila file from the desk and placed it before him. He tapped it with a finger. "My plans. In great detail. After you have done your work, whatever it is, I want your promise that you will deliver this to the proper people in Washington. Promise me this and I will help you all I can."
Nick promised. It seemed harmless enough.
General Teng cocked his head to one side like a crafty old bird. "You are not interested in the details? You do not wish to know my plans?"
Nick winced inwardly, staring at the thick file. "Perhaps later, General. Tonight I'll read it. It really isn't my province, you know. That file will have to go directly to the General Staff. In anything as big as that I'm only small potatoes."
Teng frowned, but did not appear really displeased. "I think I understand the allusions. And you are right, of course. This file must go to the very top. But I will tell you, very briefly, what I am planning."
Nick Carter sighed.
The General explained carefully that he had the nucleus of an army already. Nick sighed again and feigned attention. He had seen the «army» drilling — twenty ragtag soldiers. Peasants who were «soldiers» in their spare time. The General, he thought now, must be in a worse mental state than showed on the surface — that was why Peking did not worry about him.
"I also have good intelligence," the General was saying. He tapped the bit of paper on his desk. "As I have just proven to you. If your country will only send me supplies and money, especially money, I will raise an army and take over this province in six months. I guarantee it! Then, after I have consolidated, I will take over all China. Millions will flock to my banner."
Nick made a mistake. He said: "You will work with Chiang Kai-shek, of course? I understand that you were once
friends."
Silence. The General picked up the Mauser and pointed it at Nick again. His seamed face was white, his eyes bulging. "That bandit!" It was nearly a scream. "Never! I said that I will rule. I alone. General Teng Fa!"
Nick sat very still. The old man's finger was curled white on the trigger of the pistol. Nick smiled. "Of course, General. It is just that I misunderstood. I will certainly deliver your file with my best recommendations. But in the meantime, sir, I can't do either of us any good until I am out of China."
The pistol was laid on the desk again. The storm had passed as suddenly as it had risen. Nick got the clue then. The old man was probably sane enough on matters not relating to his own ambitions.
"Taxes," said General Teng.
"Sir?"
"Taxes," repeated the old man. "I'll show them something about taxes." His false teeth glinted at Nick. "Why, I once imposed twenty-seven taxes on salt alone!"
Before Nick could say anything to that — what was there to say? — the General continued in a normal tone of voice. "We must get you and the girl out of here at once. The airfield, don't you see? They are sure to think you are after it. Word travels slowly in these parts, but it will travel. I cannot be sure of everyone in my own house."
The thought had occurred to Nick before and now it returned. It was more than probable that one of the servants had already spoken to the Village head man of the strangers staying with General Teng. He had reckoned on that.
General Teng was spreading a frayed and much-folded map on the desk. He beckoned to Nick. "Come. I will show you how I am going to help you. This is a map of the country around the Chumbi Valley, where they are digging the tunnel. I know it well because I hunted there as a boy, and I know something about it that very few people know. Certainly they do not know about it Look."
The map was old and out of date, but Nick had been studying his own maps, fine specimens pieced together from the satellite pictures, so now it was easy to visualize the terrain.
"Just here," said the General, "there is another valley running parallel to the Chumbi. They know about it, of course, but they do not even bother to guard it. They think it is inaccessible. And so it is — to one who does not know the secret. The valley is completely surrounded by sheer cliffs three to four hundred feet high. It is about twenty miles long and a mile wide at the widest point. Nothing lives there. Or so they say. I have never been quite sure."
Something in his tone made Nick glance up quickly. The old man was staring down at the map, his finger trembling a bit, but he was not seeing the yellowed paper. Where was he? Nick nudged him gently out of reverie.
"You seem to know the valley well, General."
A slow nod. "I do. Or I did. I hunted there as a young man. Seventy-five years ago. That is a long time, I know, but the stairs will still be there."
"Stairs, sir?"
"Crude stairs carved in the cliffs on both sides of the valley. They must have been centuries old when I found them. And there were caves all around the valley, running into the foot of the cliffs. Someone, or something, once lived in that valley."
Killmaster cursed under his breath. This lonely and forsaken valley, paralleling as it did the narrowest part of the Chumbi, might be the answer to his prayers. Especially if the part about the stairs was true. But how much of the old man's story to believe? Someone or something?
"The place," said the old man, "is known locally as the Valley of the Yeti."
Oh, brother! The Abominable Snowman! He remained respectfully silent.
General Teng said, "You do not laugh?"
Nick said, slightly misquoting the Bard: "There are more things than are dreamt of in my philosophy, sir." The old boy was being helpful. Best to coddle him along.
General Teng nodded. He seemed pleased. "Ah, yes. Your Shakespeare. It has been a long time since I read him."
He tapped the map again with his finger. He appeared crisp and alert now. "It is nonsense, of course. Peking thinks so, at least. They do not even show the valley on their maps. I am not so sure. As I say, I have been there and…"
Nick Carter jolted him out of it again. "Thank you, sir, for showing me this. If my people can drop me into this valley, and I can find those stairs you mention, I will be in a position overlooking the Chumbi. There should be plenty of good cover. From there on — well, I have my plans, and my orders."
The General was folding the map. "Yes. And I will not inquire into that. Our chief concern now must be to get you and the girl out of here as soon as possible. You cannot go tonight, I suppose?"
Nick glanced at his watch. A little after seven. In Sikkim an AXE team was standing a round-the-clock watch. It might just be possible. There was still the problem of getting back to the strip of desert where they had landed. It would have to be that spot. It had been proved safe, it was the only one Nick knew about, and by now Johnny Cool would have fed the coordinates to the chief of the AXE team in Sikkim. They would have an almost perfect fix on the field. Flares could guide them in.
He explained this to the old man.
"I have fast horses," said Teng. "And I will give you six men I can trust." He stiffened, his back straight, once more the complete General. "You will get in touch with your people at once!"
"Yes, sir." Nick was tempted to salute.
He started to leave, but the General put a detaining hand on his arm. "For a young man, you are not very curious." He pointed to the tall screen that shielded a corner of the room. "I said that I would show you my greatest treasure. I will keep my word now. Come."
What now? Nick followed the stiff old back across the marbled floor to the screen. He had little time to humor the old fellow now — he had to get on the transceiver and start the machinery humming.
General Teng folded back a section of the screen. "I am doing you a great honor, sir. I do not allow many people to meet my wife."
Wife? Something began to crawl under the AXEman's skin.
"This is Porphyry," said General Teng. "My first and my only love. There are fools who say that she has been dead for fifty years, but not so. Is she not beautiful?"
She was reclining on a divan, a pillow beneath her head, a little fan in her hand. An exquisite Chinese doll with tiny feet, the «lily» foot of old China, and a carefully pointed mouth scarlet against stark white rice powder. A lace cap topped the glistening dark hair. The eyes, limpid and deep brown, stared at Nick.
He very nearly bowed and spoke, then caught himself. At first he thought it was a dummy. He took a step nearer, conscious of the General's eyes on him. His skin crawled again and he felt the moisture turning cold on him. It was not a dummy.
There are fools that say she has been dead for fifty years!
This was a mummy.
Nick Carter turned away, feeling that he was going to be sick. The old man paid him no attention. He went to the divan and stood over the figure. He adjusted the fan, the little lace cap, moved the feet to a pillow.
Over his shoulder the General spoke to Nick: "I will remain with her for a little time. We have not had our talk today. Go and make your preparations. You will be at the main gate in an hour. Make sure that you leave no trace of your presence here. Go!"
Nick turned away, fighting down nausea. He was nearly to the door when the old man called. "The file! You must take the file with you. See that it gets into the proper hands in Washington as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir." He went back to the desk and picked up the bulky file.
Skirting the lily pond on his way back to the main house, Nick remembered that there were carp in the pond. Fan Su had told him that carp lived to a great age, and that some Chinese ate a mash of grain and carp guts to ensure their own longevity.
Nick grimaced. General Teng had overdone it. He had lived too long!
* * *
When he told Fan Su about the experience she merely shrugged. "He is quite mad," she said. "I have been talking to some of the servants. Some love him, all are afraid of him, and a
ll agree that he is insane. It does not really matter in this wilderness."
"Maybe not." He was busy rigging the aerial for the transceiver. "The point is — how far can we trust his information? And will he really come up with those men and horses to help us get out of here tonight?"
Fan Su was naked, about to pull on a suit of heavy woolen underwear she had taken from the packs. Her lemony skin glowed in the soft candlelight. Nick gazed with appreciation, if not present desire, at the slim flanks, the flat belly, the good firm breasts. Hawk, he realized suddenly, had had a sort of prescience when he named this mission Yellow Venus. The old man had never seen Fan Su, probably never would.
The girl had been unusually silent and moody since their arrival. But her eyes were dreamy now and her voice soft as she stared back at Nick.
"Do you want to?"
"I want to," said Nick. "But there is no time. The General said an hour." He plugged in his key and started to send. The girl turned her back on him and began to dress.
They were at the main gate in plenty of time. Nick was carrying the heavy pack with his explosives and rock-climbing gear, the transceiver, the emergency food and water, spare ammo, a dozen other things that might be needed. Fan Su was carrying the sleeping bags, additional food and ammo, and the rifles. The guns were new Mannlichers, bolt action, throwing a.458 magnum, and they had telescopic sights. In addition Nick was carrying a trench knife, a sawed-off shotgun for close quarters, and the Luger and stiletto. Both wore double-quilted suits and heavy mittens and fur boots. On their heads were fur caps of Sherpa style.
As they waited for the General to appear, Nick could feel the wind from distant Tibet on his face. Like a cold razor. They were going to freeze their behinds up there in the passes. Yet he could not wear more clothing — he was really too bulky now, and he had climbing to do. He could not carry a machine gun, which he would have preferred, for the same reason. It would interfere with his climbing.
The Red Guard Page 12
