Kingdom

by Tom Martin

  ‘Quick,’ said Jack, ‘before it comes back again.’

  They scrambled out of the undergrowth and along the path until they were standing under the net. Now that they were right beneath it, they could see that the person suspended inside was a man, a Chinese man dressed in a filthy uniform. Looking up from beneath, her right arm hanging by her side, still holding the kukri, Nancy said:

  ‘A soldier?’

  ‘I think so. Doesn’t look as though he’s armed – I wonder how long he’s been there.’

  ‘How do we get him down?’

  Jack turned to look at her in surprise, as though he hadn’t considered doing anything of the sort.

  ‘We have to get him down,’ she said firmly. ‘He can’t be dangerous. He’s probably dead anyway.’

  Jack shook his head and then strode over to the tree. The other end of the rope was tied to a boulder that sat on the ground near the base of the tree, just off the path. It was the counter-weight and it must have been balanced somewhere and then triggered to fall, lifting the net when someone stepped on it and broke a tripwire somewhere. He lifted his kukri above his head to slash the rope, but before he had time to do so Nancy shouted at him:

  ‘No! Don’t – he’ll break his neck if you do that. Hold on to the rope higher up, then I’ll cut it, then you can let him down slowly . . .’

  Jack grunted but did as she suggested. Grasping the rope in both hands, he looped it over one of the high branches on the tree to carry the weight of the net and its catch. She weighed the kukri and measured up her blow against the taut rope that was tied fast against the boulder, and then with a thunk that sent sparks flying she sliced right through it in one go. Jack was lifted up onto his tiptoes, his arms stretched in the air. Quickly she dropped the knife and ran over, and standing beneath the net she tried to get hold of it.

  ‘Let him down some more,’ she cried.

  Jack tried to stretch up some more, and then he jumped and the weight dropped another foot into her waiting hands. She grabbed hold of it and Jack let go, causing the net, the man inside and Nancy to end up in a pile on the track. Bruised but not seriously hurt, she quickly got to her feet. It was clear then that the man in the net was alive. He was groaning in agony, curled into the foetal position.

  ‘Cramp,’ said Jack. ‘Probably been up there for days. Circulation’s screwed.’

  ‘What can we do?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘At least try to give him some water, Jack.’

  He did as she said, offering his water bottle to the man’s lips. The man was certainly no danger to them; he looked as though he would never be able to straighten himself out again, and in any case he was unarmed and still tangled up in the net. She peered over at his face: he was handsome, with angular cheekbones, and she could see he was tall, though his long limbs were still entangled. She couldn’t tell precisely how old he was – perhaps thirtyish, she guessed.

  Jack watched as the man thirstily gulped down every drop that he offered him, then once he had drunk for a full minute, he took the bottle away and said, ‘Do you speak English?’

  The Chinese man looked at them out of the corner of his eyes, unable to turn his aching neck. In a feeble voice he said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Colonel Jen; I am an officer in the PSB . . .’ He winced in pain. ‘Thank you for getting me down.’

  Nancy looked at Jack.

  ‘Come on – we should get him out of the net.’

  They both knelt down and began to untangle the man’s limbs from the spiderweb of netting. Eventually he was free, and they rolled him over so that he was lying on his side on the track, still moaning. They stood up and watched as, very slowly and with great effort, he rolled himself on to his back and ever so gradually managed to straighten his legs and arms, grimacing in pain as he did so. Then he slumped on to his side again and looked at Nancy out of his baleful eyes.

  ‘Please can you help me?’

  Jack smiled edgily.

  ‘He can tell you’re the soft one.’

  Nancy ignored him and spoke the man, ‘What do you want?’

  ‘More water. I am very thirsty.’

  ‘Come on, Jack; let’s lean him against that tree.’

  They grabbed him under the arms and dragged him up to the trunk, then Nancy poured some more water down his throat. He was still drinking thirstily when Jack tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Come with me.’

  She frowned and stood up. What did he want? They had to help this man; perhaps his blood had clotted already; he was certainly extremely dehydrated. She followed him up the path a little way, then he turned to her and whispered urgently, ‘Before you get too carried away, you might remember that this man could well be part of the gang looking for Anton.’ He glanced back down the track at Colonel Jen. ‘No more Florence Nightingale antics until he tells us who he is and what he’s doing – I’m going to tie him up before he recovers his strength.’

  ‘We can’t tie up a Chinese intelligence officer,’ said Nancy, in alarm.

  ‘Why not? We’ll let him go afterwards. He won’t tell us anything otherwise.’

  ‘But imagine the trouble it could get us in. It’s madness.’

  ‘Nancy, we’ve just saved his life – we don’t know who he is, he might even be dangerous, and there’s a good chance he might know where Anton is. I’m going to tie him up. Most likely he’d do the same to you, if the situation was reversed.’

  He took the water bottle from her hand and brushed past her, returning to the waiting Chinese man. Then he knelt down by the man’s side and working quickly with his knife, cut lengths of vine rope and then proceeded to bind his ankles and wrists. Still curled forward in pain, he put up no resistance; he was too enfeebled, and his head lolled as Jack Adams jerked him around. The job finished, Jack leant back on his haunches.

  ‘OK, now you can begin by telling us what you are doing wandering around in this forest.’

  With great effort the Chinese man raised his head and stared at the water bottle.

  ‘Sure you can have some more – but answer my question first.’

  Clearly in great pain, the man mustered a response. ‘I’m looking for a man.’

  Jack nodded. ‘A white man? Anton Herzog?’

  There was a pause whilst Colonel Jen collected the strength to talk. He looked confused.

  ‘Yes.’

  Nancy knelt down next to Jack. She could bear it no longer; she grabbed the bottle back from Jack’s hands.

  ‘Here. Let me do this.’

  She touched the bottle to the man’s lips and let him drink until he was gasping for breath.

  ‘Are you looking for him because he is a spy?’ she asked. The man was silent. This made her angry – she didn’t want to see him suffer but she was desperate to learn all he knew.

  ‘Listen, we’ll untie you and give you water and food and help you, if you help us. Otherwise you will die here in the jungle. We are trying to find the white man too.’

  The man struggled again to speak.

  ‘He’s not a spy. But he is a dangerous man.’

  ‘Why do you think he is dangerous?’

  Again he paused, and with great pain, moved the position of his back against the tree.

  ‘He has information. I have to find him.’

  Nancy was electrified by these words. With a sudden intuition, she began to speak quickly.

  ‘He knows the whereabouts of the Black Book, doesn’t he? The Book of Dzyan. That’s what you mean isn’t it? Tell me. That is why you are after him?’

  The man nodded his head – she couldn’t tell if he was surprised that she knew what he was looking for. Perhaps his astonishment had reached a maximum level: he had already been caught in a net, had narrowly avoided being eaten by a bear, and now he was being questioned by two Westerners, deep in the jungles of Pemako. Nancy looked at Jack. He was staring in incomprehension at the Chinese man.

  Suddenly he interru
pted. ‘Why does your government call him a spy then?’

  The man’s eyes darted across to Jack.

  ‘Because they are afraid of him,’ he answered flatly, as if he was stating the obvious.

  ‘Why are they afraid?’ said Nancy.

  The Chinese man’s dark eyes studied them both in turn – Nancy could tell that he was confused, still too weak to think clearly and yet struggling to assess the circumstances in which he found himself.

  Finally he spoke. ‘The book is known in China, for its power. It is said that it can start revolutions, it can bring change. It has been lost for thousands of years. The Communist Party is afraid that if it is rediscovered, it will be used to overthrow them. They themselves came to power because of the ideas contained in one book: The Communist Manifesto. So they are wise enough to know that books can be very dangerous.’

  ‘Where is Herzog?’ Nancy demanded. The Chinese man fell silent again. She continued. ‘Tell us where he is. You know, don’t you?’

  There was a pause then he answered:

  ‘He is dying.’

  For a second Nancy felt as if her heart had stopped beating and her lungs had suddenly ceased to function. Herzog was dying? It was an eventuality that she had not really considered for a while. She had been concerned about him at first, but in Tibet he had seemed a mythical figure, a magician; she had grown to think of him as invincible, even terrifying in his powers.

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ she stammered.

  ‘The monks have taken him. On a stretcher.’

  ‘Taken him where?’

  ‘To Agarthi. To the sacred city.’

  Jack Adams interrupted:

  ‘What are you talking about? There are no cities in Pemako.’

  ‘Colonel Jen, do you know where they have gone? Can we find him?’ Nancy asked, entreating him to be eloquent, holding the water towards him.

  ‘I almost had them. I was just behind. Then we were attacked.’

  Adams interrupted again:

  ‘By who?’

  ‘I don’t know. It happened so fast. My men were killed.’ He tried to lift himself up but slumped back against the tree, exhausted by the effort.

  ‘I must go. Before the other soldiers find him. Please untie me.’

  Adams put his hands on his hips and shook his head in disgust.

  ‘He’s not making any sense, Nancy.’

  She ignored him. Urgently, she tried to make the man look at her directly. She said, ‘What soldiers? Aren’t the soldiers working with you?’

  ‘No. You don’t understand. I must get the book. Only the book can save China now.’

  ‘And the soldiers, why don’t you want them to get it?’

  ‘They will take it to Beijing and destroy it and all will be lost.’

  ‘So you are working alone?’

  The Chinese man sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a second before looking down at the cords that bound his hands and feet. Then he fixed her with a steely look and – his voice filled with renewed purpose – he said:

  ‘You seek the man, I seek the book. Help me, and I will help you. You will never find him without me. Never.’

  Jack Adams was incredulous.

  ‘Who are you, Colonel Jen – who on earth are you?’

  ‘You do not need to know that. All you need to know is that we seek to bring China back to the Tao, to return China to the way it was in the days of old, before the Revolution, when the Emperor still ruled.’

  Nancy was struggling to grasp everything.

  ‘But how do you know Herzog has found the book?’

  ‘We have an intelligence network in the monasteries. Anton Herzog is a great man, he moves close to the Tao. If he does not have the book in his hands as we speak, then he now knows where it is.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘That is what the intelligence network suspected; that is what our lamas tell us. And the Oracle has confirmed it. The Oracle is never wrong.’

  Of course, thought Nancy. That’s what she should have asked the Oracle. Does Herzog have the terma? She should have tried it ages ago. And this man had asked the Oracle, and it had told him. She realized it was natural that he should consult the Oracle: he believed in the old lore of China, banned by the Communist Party, an outlawed superstition, banished for being part of the country’s oppressive feudal past, cast out for being irrational and unscientific: un-Maoist.

  ‘And the Communist Party, the army – how do they know that Herzog might know where the book is?’

  Colonel Jen was regaining himself, and with his voice strengthening further as he spoke, he said, ‘They are privy to the intelligence; that is why I have to act fast. They are looking too. They have sent soldiers to kill Herzog and to destroy the book. They will kill you too, if they find you. They intend to destroy anyone who knows that it exists. If you do not free me, you will never get out of the valley alive. That is the truth. I am lucky you found me – but you are lucky too. We have both been blessed with fortune. Briefly, for the moment only.’

  This is insane, Nancy was thinking. At one level she was aware it was all totally insane. She had crossed the Su La pass into a land of madness and danger. Pemako couldn’t be further from heaven on earth; rather it was a hell populated by crazy occult fantasists and murderous soldiers. And what was more this man, this Chinese Colonel – a renegade, severed from his official role – was claiming that Herzog was dying, and that they were in mortal danger. She heard his words as if he spoke in a dream, a dream filled with menace. Now she looked over at Jack Adams. She was hardly reassured to see that he had an expression of utter horror on his face.

  ‘Nancy, what on earth have you got me into?’ he said, in a low voice.

  That she could hardly bear; she felt as if she was going to burst into tears. She wanted to continue, to find Herzog, and yet she was equally compelled by an urge to flee. And Jack’s fear only made her feel worse. If only she had stayed in Delhi, if only she had never come to India at all, she was thinking.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, hardly able to form the words. ‘I don’t know what is happening. I don’t understand any of it.’

  ‘Well, what the hell are we going to do? We have to get out of here. We’ve got to get back to the pass immediately.’

  Colonel Jen shook his head.

  ‘It’s too late. More and more soldiers will be on their way. They will flood the valleys of Pemako with men until they find Herzog, until they get the book.’

  Jack spun around and stared into the jungle in disgust.

  ‘Christ, this is a mess.’

  46

  ‘We have to free him,’ said Nancy. She had taken Jack to one side and they were speaking together, while casting frightened glances around the jungle. She saw Jack was just as edgy and vigilant as her. ‘He’s got nothing. He needs our water and our food. He doesn’t even have iodine tablets, so he can’t drink the jungle water. If he runs off then he will have to waste time trying to find a village and risk bumping into soldiers, which he doesn’t want. That’s the humanitarian argument. But anyway I believe him: we need his help.’

  Jack looked over her shoulder at Colonel Jen, who was still sitting with his back against the tree, his ankles and wrists firmly tied together.

  ‘Listen Nancy, he could be making everything up for all we know. Perhaps there are no soldiers coming over the Su La, perhaps he’s planning to trick us and lead us straight into an army camp. Who knows? Why should we trust him for a second?’

  ‘Well, we can’t just leave him to die, or get eaten by a bear . . .’

  Just then Jack noticed that Jen was frantically waving his hands in the air.

  ‘Now what’s he doing?’ he said with irritation in his voice.

  Nancy turned to look. ‘Something’s wrong . . .’ She began to walk quickly back towards the prisoner and raising her voice she almost shouted, ‘What is it?’

  She could see from the expression on his face that he was frantic. Why d
oesn’t he answer, why doesn’t he just shout? she thought. When she was a couple of yards away he said, desperately, his face moist with sweat, ‘They’re coming. The soldiers. You have to move me off the path. We have to hide. Please – hurry.’

  Jack had arrived at Nancy’s side. It was true, they could hear movement further down the path, coming towards them. She grabbed the rucksacks, hurled them into the undergrowth and then flung the netting after them as well. Jack grabbed Colonel Jen under the arms again and pulled him into the jungle. Nancy just had enough time to see a uniformed figure bobbing into view one hundred feet further along the path. Her heart pounding, nauseous in her terror, she dived behind a tree.

  Seconds later, a long line of Chinese soldiers, thirty strong, she estimated, filed past, their weapons at the ready. Nancy’s face was only a few feet from the path and, as she saw their boots go by, she closed her eyes and prayed. It was a full two minutes after the last pair of army boots had stamped past her that she lifted her head and looked around.

  ‘Jack?’ she whispered hoarsely.

  ‘Over here.’

  Limbs trembling, she crawled though the vegetation. Jack was looking suspiciously at Colonel Jen, who was still lying on his side on the jungle floor, half hidden by vegetation.

  ‘Why didn’t you cry to your countrymen for help?’ Jack asked the Colonel.

  ‘I told you,’ Jen replied without emotion. ‘I am working alone. The soldiers have orders to destroy the book. I can’t allow that to happen. I am now an outlaw, they will have orders to shoot me on sight.’

  ‘So, if I untie you, we will travel together?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jack glanced at Nancy and then leaned forwards and, with a few sharp movements of his knife, severed the cords at Colonel Jen’s hands and feet. The Chinese man stretched out his limbs and then, for the first time, tried to stand up. Staggering like a newborn foal, leaning on the tree limbs and sturdier bushes, he slowly limped his way on to the path. Slowly dragging himself up to his full height, massaging his wrists, he scanned the track in the direction that the soldiers had gone. He had transformed into an altogether different figure now that he was free from the net and had recovered from the cramp. Nancy could tell that he was a man to be reckoned with: highly capable and no doubt used to getting his own way.