by Jack Higgins
'I arrived on foot about four hours ago,' Sher Dil said. 'When I told the villagers what was happening, they decided to move into the mountains while they still could. They wanted me to go with them, but I'd told Drummond and Major Hamid to meet here if they managed to get across the river.' He grinned. 'I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it.'
'We very nearly didn't,' Hamid said. 'They insisted on our staying for a while. You'll be interested to know, by the way, that friend Cheung is an Intelligence Colonel.'
'God bless my soul,' Father Kerrigan said. 'Are you sure about this?'
'We've the best of reasons for knowing, Father,' Drummond said. 'How's Kerim?'
'Taking it all surprisingly well. Of course, he's not had things too bad as yet. After crossing the river we were in an ox cart for nine or ten miles, but then we met the convoy. As soon as Corporal Nadin heard our story, he turned round at once. He didn't have much choice. He couldn't have gone any further.'
'Does he know about his father's death?'
'So it's certain? Brackenhurst seemed to think so, but I kept hoping he might have been mistaken.' Father Kerrigan sighed. 'No, I've told the boy nothing. Later, perhaps, when we're safe across the border.'
'If we can get there, Father. A debatable point at the moment.'
Ahmed splashed towards them through the rain, two tin mugs in each hand. 'Tea, Colonel?'
'So, you survived, you rogue?' Sher Dil said in mock anger. 'Am I never to be rid of you?'
'As Allah wills, Colonel.'
Ahmed grinned impudently. He wore brand new leather combat boots and a quilted khaki parka of the kind specially issued for winter warfare, the fur-lined hood pulled up over his head.
'Where did you get the clothes?' Drummond asked.
'One of the trucks was carrying general equipment for the army, sahib. There is still some left although we unloaded most of it back there on the road to make room for the women and children.'
'Women and children?'
'Refugees we found on the road. We could not leave them for the Chinese.'
'Tell Corporal Nadin to bring me a map,' Sher Dil said.
They squatted on the verandah of the nearest house to drink their tea and Nadin, a thin, sinewy Indian with a brown face and long black moustache, brought the map.
Sher Dil unfolded it. 'Three hundred miles to the Indian border and one road out - this one. The usual way to cross the river with transport was by the ferry at Quala, but according to Father Kerrigan, the villagers have burned it.'
'It might be possible to cross in the shallows at Kama,' Drummond said. 'Especially with half-tracks, and they've got those.'
'Do you think they'll try?' Father Kerrigan said.
Hamid nodded. 'I'm afraid so. They want the young Khan, Cheung made that quite plain. A puppet to sit on the throne of Balpur, a mouthpiece for the People's Republic. As Sher Dil says, there's only one road out. They're certain to follow.'
'Then we must keep moving. We have a good lead.'
'Only for a time.' Sher Dil ran his finger along the course of the river. 'Here, seventy miles south of Sadar is a village called Huma. If the Chinese get their hands on the boats there, they can put men across.'
'But not vehicles.'
'That is true, but see how the river swings to follow the valley. They would be no more than ten to fifteen miles from the road, no distance for active, well-trained troops.'
'So you think they may try to cut the road ahead of us?' Drummond said.
Hamid shrugged. 'I don't know who their commanding officer is, but that's what I'd do if I was in his place.'
'Then the sooner we're on the move, the better.'
Sher Dil looked up at the leaden sky. 'About two hours of daylight left. We can go a long way in that time.'
'You don't think we should push on through the night?'
'On this road?' Hamid laughed harshly. 'It would be suicide in vehicles like these. Much better to camp at a suitable spot and move on at first light. The Chinese won't have anyone across the river yet, there hasn't been enough time. We'll have a good start on them.'
Sher Dil got to his feet and turned to Corporal Nadin. 'What about petrol?'
'There is plenty, Colonel, enough for all the trucks.'
'Why not dump two and push on in the others?' Drummond said. 'Plenty of room for all of us if we unload.'
Sher Dil laughed and made a sweeping gesture that took in all four of the Bedfords. 'Look at them. Twenty years old if they're a day. They've been running since the Burma campaign and it shows.' He turned to Nadin. 'How often do they break down?'
The corporal shrugged. 'All the time, Colonel. First one thing and then another.'
'That settles it. We push on with all four. If one breaks down, we still have three left and so on. One of the damned things is bound to last out to the border. In any case, the ammunition they carry may prove useful.'
The three privates had been standing in a little group a yard or two away listening to this conversation and as Corporal Nadin turned to move away, one of them grabbed his sleeve and muttered something quickly.
Sher Dil frowned and stepped down into the mud. 'What's going on?'
Nadin turned, indecision on his face. 'Two of the men, sir, Piroo and Yussuf. They are local men. Their wives are in Sadar. They would rather stay. They do not wish to return to India.'
Only the rush of the rain and the rattle of water in the stream bed on the other side of the village disturbed the silence after he had finished speaking.
Father Kerrigan looked worried and Hamid was quite composed, ready for anything. When Drummond glanced quickly at Sher Dil, the colonel's face had turned pale with anger and the eyes blazed fire.
'For a soldier who disobeys an order in the face of the enemy, there can be only one punishment.' He unslung the old Lee Enfield rifle and rammed home a round, the bolt making an audible click. 'Is that understood?'
The two men in question looked scared to death. Sher Dil slung the rifle over his shoulder again. 'Right, Corporal Nadin. Prepare to move out.'
Nadin and the three privates hurried away and Father Kerrigan heaved a sigh of relief. 'You almost frightened me.'
'A bad business,' Hamid said. 'Once it starts, you can never tell where it's going to end.'
Sher Dil nodded. 'We've wasted enough time. Get what you need in the way of arms and so on and we'll move out.'
The refugees, a dozen women and five children, huddled together in the shadows at the back of the truck, clutching the pathetic bundles which contained their worldly possessions.
They sat there patiently, watching with no visible emotion as Drummond and Hamid looked through what was left of the general equipment the truck had been carrying. They found quilted parkas similar to the one Ahmed was wearing and Drummond discarded his flying boots, still saturated from their immersion in the river, and helped himself to a pair of heavy mountain warfare combat boots. He pulled on waterproof mittens and jumped to the ground.
Hamid was at the second truck with Sher Dil. The colonel had discovered a case of sub-machine guns and had broken it open.
'These are very good,' he said with a grin. 'A gift from Moscow. One of the happier results of adopting a policy of strict neutrality.'
He prised open a box of ammunition and another of grenades and turned as Corporal Nadin approached. 'Bring the others, I'm going to issue automatic weapons.'
Nadin called and a moment later, Ahmed and the third driver, a tall Bengali named Amal, hurried out of the mist.
'Yussuf and Piroo - where are they?'
The two men glanced at each other uncertainly and Nadin ran along the line of trucks. He was back in a moment. 'They have gone, Colonel.'
Sher Dil grabbed Ahmed by the front of his parka. 'Did you see them go, you rogue?'
Ahmed raised his hands, palms outwards.' On my father's grave, Colonel. They were here only five minutes ago. I was talking to them.'
'What about?'
&nb
sp; 'They were very angry with the Colonel. They said that the Chinese would catch us all. That we would never reach India.' He shrugged. 'They didn't want to stay.'
Sher Dil cursed and Hamid shook his head. 'We're better off without them. There's no problem. We've enough drivers between us. I can take a truck myself.'
Sher Dil nodded. 'Very well. I'll go first with Corporal Nadin. You follow in the supplies truck, Major. Father Kerrigan, Miss Tate and the young Khan can travel with you.'
'What about me?' Drummond said.
'You can bring up the rear with Ahmed. Mr. Brackenhurst can travel with Amal in the third truck with the refugees. As soon as everyone's in, we'll move out.'
As they broke away, Drummond heard his name and saw Janet leaning over the tailboard of the second truck.
He climbed up beside her quickly. 'Anything wrong?'
'No, what's been happening?'
'A couple of drivers have deserted, but there's nothing to worry about. How's Kerim?'
'Asleep at the moment. We've made him as comfortable as possible.'
Boxes had been moved away from the far end creating an alcove in which the young Khan lay covered with blankets, his face very pale against the white bandage. Janet leaned down to straighten a blanket and when she stood up again, Drummond took her hands.
'Are you worried?'
She shook her head. 'Nothing's really sunk in yet. I can't quite believe it's happening.'
His hands tightened, pulling her close and he kissed her. 'Not even this?'
She looked up at him, her eyes dark and serious, and then she smiled and touched his face gently. She didn't speak, there was no need and they kissed again.
'I'll see you later,' he said and left her there.
When he vaulted over the tailboard, Father Kerrigan was standing in the rain, a long cheroot jutting from his teeth beneath the shovel hat.
'And would it be all right if I got in now?' he demanded.
Drummond grinned and gave him a push up over the tailboard. 'Where did you get the smokes?'
'See Ahmed. He's been foraging amongst the supplies again.'
Drummond trudged through the mud to the rear truck. When he climbed up into the cab, he found Ahmed sitting behind the wheel wreathed in tobacco smoke.
The Afridi grinned and took a carton from the dashboard. 'Cheroots, sahib, very strong. Specially made for Indian Army.'
'The way I feel, I could smoke any damned thing,' Drummond said.
He lit one, coughing as the smoke caught at the back of his throat, the door was pulled open and Sher Dil appeared.
'The next village is Hasa which is a good ninety miles further on.'
'We haven't a hope of getting that far before darkness in weather like this,' Drummond said.
Sher Dil nodded. 'If we can make forty miles I'll be satisfied. We'll camp at the side of the road and push on at dawn.'
He slammed the door, and Ahmed pressed the starter. After several moments and a liberal use of the choke, the engine rumbled into life. The truck in front of them lurched forward and he eased off the handbrake and followed.
There was a warm smell of petrol and oil in the cab and rain splashed against the windscreen. Suddenly, Drummond had that same feeling of temporary security and safety he'd known in the herdsman's hut after they'd got across the river. He leaned back in his seat, laid the sub-machine gun across his knees and started to clean the grease from it with a piece of rag.
As the sound of the truck engines faded into the mist and rain, Piroo and Yussuf scrambled up from the stream bed and stood in the rain listening.
As the last echo died away, Piroo nodded in satisfaction. 'Good, they have gone. Sher Dil was very angry.'
'No matter,' Yussuf replied. 'His day is done.' He looked up at the smoke rising from the headman's house. 'There is still a fire on the hearth. We will stay here for the night. We can move on in the morning.'
They went up the steps to the verandah, opened the heavy door and went inside leaving the street empty again; Rain hammered into the mud, mist enfolded the silent houses and the village waited as night fell.
The truck rocked violently as it ground its way along the muddy, pot-holed road and Drummond leaned forward, straining his eyes into the swirling mist.
The truck in front stopped suddenly and Ahmed stamped his foot on the brake. Drummond opened the door, sub-machine gun ready, and Sher Dil appeared.
'We've bogged down. You'll have to lend a hand.'
Drummond and Ahmed tramped through the mud to the front truck. Its offside wheel was deep in a water-filled pothole and Nadin and Hamid were already busy with spades.
It took twenty minutes of hard work on the part of everybody to get it moving. When Drummond climbed back into his seat, he was plastered with mud to the knees and his fine new parka looked as if it had been through a hard campaign. Half an hour later, the whole performance had to be repeated.
When he settled himself back in his seat for the second time he was past feeling anything. His feet were numb, his hands raw and bleeding from handling the rocks and stones which had gone to fill the potholes.
Visibility was bad now and he began to feel very tired as he strained his eyes through the gathering gloom. The front truck's horn sounded once and as the convoy slowed, he was aware of scattered pine trees on the left.
Ahmed turned off the road and followed the dimly-seen tail of the truck in front and there was a sudden stillness as all engines were cut.
10
Nightwatch
THE camp site Sher Dil had chosen was a rocky flat, thinly scattered with pine trees that gave them some sort of a screen from the road.
When Drummond walked up the line, Hamid, Sher Dil and Father Kerrigan were standing at the rear of the second truck talking in low voices. Janet leaned over the tailboard.
'We've decided we don't need to worry too much about a blackout in this mist,' Sher Dil said. 'We'll set up one of the oil stoves in the back of the supply truck. Miss Tate can cook in there away from the rain. The refugees can do the same. There's plenty of food to go round.'
'A good hot meal should go a long way towards raising everyone's spirits,' Father Kerrigan said.
Drummond nodded. 'What about the boy?'
'He'll be all right. I've kept him under strong sedation so far.'
'What about sleeping arrangements?' Hamid asked.
'In the trucks. We'll need a guard, of course. Two at a time. One here, the other at the roadside. I'll work out a rota after we've eaten.'
Sher Dil moved away and Father Kerrigan smiled up at Janet. 'Hand me my bag, my dear. I'd better have a look at Brackenhurst.'
'I'll go with you,' Hamid said.
They walked away together and Drummond called to Ahmed and helped Janet down. The little Afridi arrived on the run. 'Yes, sahib?'
'Miss Tate's going to cook a meal for us in the back of the supply truck,' Drummond said. 'Get the spirit stove going for her and open a few tins. If you don't do everything she tells you at the double, I'll cut your throat.'
Ahmed grinned at Janet. 'The sahib has a kind heart, memsahib. He could never do such a terrible thing. You come with me. I will see to everything.'
They moved away and Drummond went after Father Kerrigan and Hamid. He found them in the back of the third truck with the refugees. An engine inspection light had been rigged up to illuminate the interior. Brackenhurst sat on an ammunition box, stripped to the waist, as Father Kerrigan carefully peeled layers of bandage away from his left arm and the women and children watched solemnly.
He looked pale and drawn and every so often glanced furtively at Hamid who watched calmly. The priest removed the final bandage, examined the arm and nodded.
'Nothing like as bad as I thought at first. You'll be fine in a day or two.'
'It hurts like hell,' Brackenhurst said.
'What a shame.' Drummond pulled himself up and looked over the tailboard. 'Don't you think that's a shame, Ali?'
'Undoub
tedly,' Hamid replied calmly. 'You must rest, Tony. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you.'
Brackenhurst threw them both a glance of pure hatred and Drummond dropped to the ground and moved back to the supply truck. He could smell cooking, and a sudden, hollow ache told him how long it had been since he'd eaten. When he climbed inside, Janet and Ahmed crouched over the stove and Sher Dil sat on a packing case, the map across his knees.
'You look worried.'
'I'm thinking about tomorrow. We swing very close to the river again. If the Chinese have moved fast along the other side in their troop carriers and get a few patrols across, we could run into trouble. The bridge across the Sokim Ravine, for example - if that was destroyed, we would be on foot.'
'We can worry about that in the morning,' Drummond said. 'I'm only interested in one thing at the moment - food.'
Ahmed passed plates of stewed meat and beans across, and as they started to eat Father Kerrigan climbed up, followed by Hamid.
'Will you see that Mr. Brackenhurst gets something to eat,' the priest said to Ahmed and frowned at Drummond. 'Weren't you a little hard on him back there? Any man's nerve can go for a while in a situation like this.'
'He never had any in the first place,' Drummond said flatly.
The old priest frowned, glancing from one to the other, aware that there was something here that he did not understand. Drummond jumped over the tailboard and went round to the cab.
He sat in the warm darkness smoking and Ahmed brought him a mug of strong, scalding tea. A little later Sher Dil opened the door.
'I've worked out a guard rota. I'd like you to take over from Amal up on the road at ten. You'll also be on guard down here for an hour from 4 a.m. I want everyone up at five. We've got a long day ahead of us.'
He vanished into the darkness and Drummond pulled the fur-lined hood of his parka over his head. Ten o'clock. That left time for a couple of hours sleep. He settled into the corner and closed his eyes.
He was running down a long, dark road and somewhere ahead of him was Janet. She was calling to him and he knew that something terrible was close behind. He ran faster and then the surface of the road changed to mud and his feet began to stick in it, ankle-deep. Clouds of rain blew across his path, blotting her from sight, and only the sound of her voice told him she was still there. It became fainter and fainter and then he felt terribly afraid and the thing behind him, the nameless evil that made him so afraid, grabbed him violently by the shoulder.
