by Jack Higgins
The door closed behind him softly and a small, trapped wind raced round the walls seeking an outlet and then died. There was a sudden movement in the shadows on the other side of the fire and Janet sat up.
'Jack, are you all right?'
'Fine,' he said softly. 'Ali's gone to have a look round.'
He started to dress, fumbling over the buttons with his swollen fingers and she threw some more wood on the fire. 'How's your foot?'
'I'm just beginning to feel it again.'
'I'd better give you another injection.'
He was hardly aware of the needle going in. 'How long will that last?'
'Four or five hours.'
He found the laces of his combat boots quite impossible and she tied them for him after fitting the right boot over the bandaged foot gently.'
'How's that?'
'Fine.' He took her hand. 'You look just about ready to fall down. How's Father Kerrigan?'
'Not too good, I'm afraid. He needs hospital treatment.'
'And Kerim?'
She chuckled. 'In better shape than the rest of us put together, I think.'
There was a sudden draught as the door opened, then closed and Hamid dropped by the fire, cursing softly and holding his hands to the flames.
'What's it like?' Drummond said.
'Cold enough to freeze you to the ground, but it's stopped snowing.'
'What about getting out of here?'
'We're in the hollow of a small plateau overlooking the lower slopes of the mountain. According to the Abbot, it's five miles down to the big valley and the Indian border.'
'How rough is the going?'
Hamid shrugged. 'Impossible to tell, it's not quite dawn yet, but it shouldn't take us more than a couple of hours even if conditions are bad. It's all downhill.'
Drummond got to his feet and swayed slightly, suddenly light-headed. 'Are you all right?' Janet said anxiously.
He nodded and walked carefully to the door. Outside it was still dark, but towards the east, a pale, grey light was lifting over the peaks. He followed the line of Hamid's footsteps, climbing up out of the hollow and stood on the rim, looking down into the darkness of the valley.
After a while, he turned and went back to the hut. Hamid glanced up at him as he dropped beside the fire. 'Well, what do you think?'
'The old man will never make it.'
'We could carry him.'
Drummond shook his head. 'We'd have enough trouble getting ourselves down there on foot. Even Janet would find it a struggle.'
'Then what do we do?' Hamid said. 'We can't leave him.'
There was a tired chuckle from the other side of the fire and Father Kerrigan said in a faint voice, 'You haven't any choice, have you?'
'I'm damned if I will,' Drummond said. 'If we assume that Cheung and his men stayed overnight at the monastery because of the storm, then we've got to expect that he'll start out again at first light, especially as it's stopped snowing. He's come this far, he won't stop till he reaches the border and has to accept the inevitable.'
'So what do we do?' Hamid said. 'Stay here and try to beat him off?' He picked up the Garrand. 'With one rifle.'
'What's your suggestion?'
'If we got to the border post fast enough, we could get help.'
'And come straight back?'
'That's right. For all we know, they may have air support down there, helicopters even. They're bound to be reinforcing the entire area in view of what's happened.'
Drummond stood there, indecision on his face and Janet said quietly, 'He's right, Jack, it's the only plan that makes any sense. I'll stay here with Father Kerrigan.'
'Now just wait a minute ...' Drummond began.
She shook her head, her face grave. 'I'm staying. Jack, he needs me, but you must take Kerim with you.
'But why, for God's sake?' Drummond demanded. 'We'll be coming back for all of you.'
'You may not be in time.'
She stood before him, arms hanging straight at her sides, calm and determined, her eyes very tired, and then she smiled and there was all the love in the world there for him.
'Hurry back, Jack! Hurry back!'
He reached blindly for her and Hamid took him firmly by the arm. 'We're wasting time, Jack.'
Drummond turned and stumbled to the door and Hamid offered her the rifle. 'I'll leave you this.'
She shook her head. 'I couldn't use it, Ali,' she said simply.
Hamid stood there for a moment, a frown on his face and then he slung the rifle over his back and went round the fire to where Kerim slept beside the old priest, swathed in his blankets.
He picked the boy up gently, cradling him in his arms and Father Kerrigan smiled. 'I'd take it as a personal favour if you'd run all the way, Major.'
Hamid turned and went out, the lump that rose in his throat threatening to choke him. Drummond was waiting outside and the Pathan walked past him without speaking, the boy held close to his chest.
Drummond stumbled after him. On the rim of the hollow he paused to look back at the hut. Janet was standing in the entrance. She gazed towards him for a long moment and then went back inside. The door closed with a strange finality and Drummond turned and went down the slope after Hamid.
Progress was slow at first for on the upper slopes, sheltered by a shoulder of the mountain, the snow had not been swept away and had fallen in a deep blanket that made walking difficult.
Drummond soon realised how weak he was. They had not covered a mile before he was gritting his teeth and placing one foot in front of the other with a dogged persistence. Hamid seemed tireless and ploughed ahead through the snow without faltering, but his face, when they rested in the lee of a large boulder, told another story.
Kerim's single eye over the edge of the blanket was round with wonder and Hamid laughed. 'I wonder how much of this he'll remember in the years to come?'
'God knows,' Drummond said hoarsely. 'Here, give him to me. I'll take him for a while.'
Hamid didn't even try to argue, a bad sign, and they started to walk again. The boy seemed heavy, which was a strange thing, and Drummond held him close and leaned well back as he went down the slope.
Another mile and his legs were trembling and when he tried to take another pace forward, he overbalanced and rolled over and over down the mountainside.
He held on tight to the boy and the world spun and red sparks flashed before his eyes. Faintly, through a great roaring, he heard Hamid calling to him and he came to rest in a great drift of snow.
The boy was crying and Hamid picked him up and brushed snow from his face as Drummond got painfully to his feet. Hamid's eyes seemed to have receded into their sockets, and lines of fatigue were etched deeply into his face. They didn't speak - there was nothing to say. He started to march, the boy against his chest and Drummond followed.
Time no longer had any significance for Drummond. He placed one foot doggedly in front of the other, and after a while they left the slopes and struggled over a flat plain of deep snow. Half-way across, they had to rest, completely exhausted.
Darkness had fled across the mountains and day had dawned, grey and sullen, more snow threatening in the heavy clouds as they finally struggled out of the deep snow and entered a thinly wooded stretch that sloped down to the valley bottom.
Drummond sucked a piece of ice, delighting in the coolness of it as it melted in his mouth and trickled down his throat and hobbled along in a strange, trancelike mood.
It was with a sense of shock that he found himself lying in the snow, the taste of it cold in his mouth and then a foot dug into his side and he heard Hamid's dead, washed-out voice.
'Get up, Jack. I haven't the strength to lift you.'
He turned away and Drummond with a supreme effort got to his feet and went after him. He bowed his head and placed one foot in front of the other. He repeated that simple action until he had lost count of time and suddenly heard a shout in front.
Hamid had stopped on top of a
slight rise twenty or thirty yards away and called to him in a strange, cracked voice. Drummond broke into a stumbling run and reached the top of the rise in time to see Hamid staggering down towards the camp in the hollow below. There were field guns deeply entrenched, supply trucks parked at the rear and a sprinkling of snow-covered huts.
Men were flooding forward, men in familiar uniforms and khaki turbans, some riding supply mules. They reached Hamid and Drummond saw him hand the boy carefully to a great, bearded Sikh. He turned, looked back at Drummond, took a single hesitant step and fell on his face in the snow.
Drummond slid to the ground and sat there, tears rolling down his cracked cheeks as the soldiers moved towards him.
It was warm in the hut and he sat before the stove, a blanket round his shoulders and sipped hot tea slowly, holding the mug in both hands. After a while, the door to the other room opened and a young Bengali medical corps sergeant came in.
'How is he?' Drummond asked.
'Fine,' the sergeant said. 'He's fallen asleep now, quite exhausted.'
'And the boy?'
'Having a meal in the officers' mess, such as it is.' The sergeant laughed. 'There's nothing wrong with that one. He seems to have enjoyed himself, if anything, during the past few days. More brandy?'
Drummond nodded and held out his mug. 'How much longer will your commanding officer be?'
'He shouldn't be long now. The main command post is only three miles away, but since the snow, of course, we're having to use mules.'
The door swung open, a cold wind whistling round the room and young Lieutenant Singh entered. 'Major Naru's coming now, Mr. Drummond.'
'Thank God for that.'
Drummond got to his feet and hobbled to the window in time to see the major and an escort of two privates ride up on mules. They dismounted and the major came up the steps to the hut, brushing snow from his parka with both hands.
Lieutenant Singh opened the door for him and he came in and moved straight to the fire, a tall, handsome man with a clipped moustache.
'Mr. Drummond?' He pulled off his gloves and held out a hand. 'A pleasure to see you here, sir.'
'Believe me, it's a pleasure to be here, Major,' Drummond said. 'Did Lieutenant Singh give you the whole story?'
The major nodded. 'We spoke over the field telephone. Where is Major Hamid?'
'Asleep in the other room. He's done the work of ten men during the past few days.'
'And the young Khan?'
'We're looking after him in the officers' mess, sir,' Lieutenant Singh put in.
'What about my friends, Major?' Drummond said. 'When can we make a start? I wanted to return with men and mules straight away, but the lieutenant said he couldn't move without the good word from you.'
Major Naru sighed. 'I'm afraid it's rather more complicated than that. The Chinese invasion of Balpur is something my government must handle with the greatest care. An emergency session has already started at the United Nations. Under these circumstances, all units on the border have been ordered to avoid any confrontation with Chinese units at whatever the cost. It would be impossible for me to even consider sending a patrol into Balpur territory.'
'But that hut's no more than five miles from here,' Drummond said. 'With mules, we could be there in less than an hour and time is vital. As I explained to Lieutenant Singh, Colonel Cheung could beat us to the punch.'
'All the more reason to avoid a situation which could lead to possible military action.'
'We'll see what Major Hamid has to say about this,' Drummond said angrily and he moved to the door of the inner room.
'Major Hamid is an officer of the Indian Army. He will do what I have to do - obey orders.' Major Naru's voice cracked suddenly. 'Do you think I'm enjoying this, Mr. Drummond? If I had my way, I'd move over that border now with every man I've got.' He pulled on his gloves. 'I'm going to get in touch with Headquarters by radio immediately. If they give me the word, I'll lead my men in myself, I promise you.'
'How long will that take?'
'To get a reply?' Major Naru shrugged. 'An hour, perhaps two. It is something they will have to consider carefully.' He moved to the door and Singh opened it for him. 'I am sorry, Mr. Drummond.'
The door closed behind them and Drummond went to the window. Major Naru walked across to the command post, Singh at his shoulder. The three mules he and his escort had used were tethered outside. Drummond looked at them for a moment, then made his decision.
The medical sergeant was standing by the stove, his face troubled, and Drummond moved past him and opened the door to the inner room. Hamid lay on his back on one of the bunks, breathing gently, the harsh lines smoothed from his handsome face.
When they had carried him in, someone had brought his rifle and it stood in the corner by the window. Drummond slung it over his back and looked down at Hamid for a moment.
'Good luck, Ali,' he said softly and returned to the other room.
He uncorked the brandy bottle, poured some into his mug and swallowed it quickly and the medical sergeant watched, a frown on his face.
'Why the rifle, Mr. Drummond?'
'I'm going for a little ride,' Drummond said. 'It might come in useful.'
He went to the door and opened it, the sergeant hurrying at his shoulder. 'But this is madness.'
Drummond ignored him, went down the steps pulling on his mittens and crossed to the mules.' As he unhitched them, the medical sergeant ran past him, mounted the steps to the command post and went inside.
Drummond took his time, lopped the reins of two of the mules to the pommel of the saddle of the third, mounted, and rode away.
He passed between the field guns, men standing up to stare at him, and then Major Naru and Lieutenant Singh emerged from the command post, the medical sergeant at their backs, and hurried after him.
As Drummond passed the last gun emplacement, they caught up with him and Major Naru reached for the bridle of the mule he was riding.
'I can't let you do this, Mr. Drummond.'
'Then you'd better start shooting,' Drummond said calmly. 'It's the only way you're going to stop me.'
He jerked the bridle from the major's grasp, dug his heels into the mule's flanks and moved forward. When he reached the crest of the small hill and looked back into the hollow, Major Naru was still standing there in front of the gun, but Lieutenant Singh was running back towards the command post.
The clouds had dropped down towards the jagged peaks, heavy with snow, and as the mules moved out of the valley and started up the mountain, the first few flakes started to fall.
Drummond no longer felt tired, but there was a strange singing inside his head, perhaps the brandy talking, and he was alone in a great white silence, following the double track in the snow that he and Hamid had made on their way down.
He pushed the mules as much as he could, moving up into the white stillness towards the peaks as the snow continued to fall. It was just under an hour after leaving the camp that he came out of a ravine on to the final slope and moved up towards the plateau.
From the rim of the plateau, sheltered by a group of jagged rocks, Sergeant Ng watched his progress from the moment he emerged from the ravine. As Drummond drew closer, he turned and hurried down to Colonel Cheung who stood beside the horses outside the hut in the hollow below.
Cheung looked tired and the skin of his face stretched tightly over his cheekbones, was raw with frostbite. 'One man coming with three mules,' Sergeant Ng said.
'Take the horses inside,' Cheung told him and he moved up out of the hollow to the rim of the plateau.
He watched Drummond for a full minute and there was no excitement in his heart. He had failed, utterly and completely, and in Pekin he would have to face the consequences of that failure, but at least he would have something of value to take back with him.
He ran down into the hollow and went inside the hut. The horses had crowded to the far end and were quietly feeding on the hay. Father Kerrigan was sitting up on t
he other side of the fire. Janet standing beside him and Ng waited by the door.
'It's Drummond,' Cheung said. 'I'll stay down here. You wait for him in the rocks on the edge of the hollow. Let him ride past you before you make your move.'
'Do you want him alive?' Ng asked calmly.
'At all costs.'
Ng went out, closing the door behind him and Cheung drew his revolver. He smiled gently across the fire at Janet and Father Kerrigan.
'It would be unwise for either of you to attempt to make the slightest noise, do I make myself clear?'
Drummond came over the edge of the plateau and reined in. It was a peaceful scene, the hut standing below in the hollow, smoke rising into the gently falling snow. He had unslung the Garrand as a precaution while still in the ravine and now it rested across the saddle in front of him.
He dug his heels into his mule's flanks and started into the hollow. He was perhaps half way down the slope, when there was a commotion inside the hut, the door was flung open and Janet ran outside.
'Behind you, Jack!' she called. 'Behind you!'
Drummond released the two lead mules and jerked savagely on the bridle of his own mount, pulling it round as Sergent Ng emerged from the rocks at the top of the hollow, sub-machine gun in his hands.
He fired a warning burst into the air and Drummond's mule reared, throwing him over its hindquarters as he reached for the Garrand.
He came to his knees in deep snow, the Garrand still in his hands, the three mules milling around him. Sergeant Ng crouched, trying to get a clear view, and Drummond fired twice in rapid succession, the bullets somersaulting the Chinese back over the rocks.
As the mules broke away, trotting down to the hut, he turned and saw Janet on one knee, Cheung holding her by the hair, the barrel of his revolver rammed against her neck.
Drummond walked forward, the rifle at his hip, and stopped a yard or two away. 'Let her and the old man go, Cheung, take me. I could be of real value, more than you could ever realise.'
