Assignment White Rajah

by Edward S. Aarons

  Although Pala Mir's face was strained, she showed no signs of weakening. Her stride steady, she worked silently beside Durell, hacking at the vines in their path. They had taken long parangs from the Rover to do the job, but it was backbreaking, slow work.

  The afternoon waned.

  Durell became concerned for the Rajah. The old man's face was grim, and he stumbled now and then and lagged behind. But he refused all offers of help when they started upward into the face of the monotonous rain.

  "I'm perfectly fine," he gasped.

  "You're not," Durell said. "I wish I could leave you somewhere, sir. This is too much for you."

  "I will go anywhere you go, sir. This is my land, and I intend to do what is right for it, whatever the cost."

  When the Rajah staggered and fell, Durell called a halt, and they ate the last of Pala Mir's sandwiches and drank more cold tea. Watching the trail, Durell sat with his back against a towering mahogany tree. Nothing stirred on the trail except a brightly colored snake that wriggled on about his business. Even the birds were silent.

  He wondered how far ahead Hammond might be.

  By four o'clock they were well into the foothills. The jimgle was just as dense, the trail less defined, the rain endless. The Rajah was haggard, his face streaked with mud and scratches. Durell called another halt. The trail had followed a jungle ridge similar to the spine of a hog, but at this point the strangling growth gave way to a small clearing. He could see the countryside where it fell away to the eastern coast, lost in the blowing rain, and to the west and south, where the loom of the mountains bulked dark and grim. A series of valleys led upward into more jungle with a prominent gorge about five miles to the southwest, like a giant crack in the landscape.

  Lily Fan came up silently and sat on her haunches, staring ahead. Her black hair was disheveled, but her round face was fresh. He turned and saw that Pala Mir was resting beside her grandfather and attending to his needs.

  Lily moved her head in their direction. Contempt was acrid in her voice. "When the White Rajah was a young man, they say, he liked to come this way on elephants imported from Burma. And always with his pet tiger." She shivered suddenly. "Did you know there are still tigers sighted here? This is dreadful country."

  "Have you been here before?" Durell questioned her.

  "Only once with Paul in his plane. And once again with Paul in his car. I told George I wouldn't be much help." She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "Anyway, he didn't give me a choice. He made me come with him."

  "Do you think he got away from the Pao Thets?"

  She shivered. "Nothing could stop him. He—he wasn't human today. I never saw him like that."

  "Did he talk much about me?" Durell asked.

  "Just that he—he would stop you from getting to the mountain palace first."

  "He thinks the palace has an answer for him?"

  "I don't know what he's looking for or why. He'd never tell me that much, even though we were so—so intimate." Her almond eyes slid toward him. "I'm so afraid. The closer we get there, the more frightened I get." She sat closer to him. "I'm scared of you and George—of everything. I just don't understand what's going on." Her mouth trembling, she looked young and defenseless. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was getting into. It was fun witih George; he's an American and very—very woridly, you know. I've never been anywhere outside of Pasangara. George said he would take me to the States one day. He kept promising me that, when—^when he wanted me, and I wasn't sure—" She paused again and himg her head. "I'm just as bad as Pala Mir, I guess."

  "Do you think Pala Mir is so bad?"

  "Well, everybody knows how wild she was in Europe. But maybe I'm just as terrible a person as she is."

  Pala Mir came over and regarded the lush, tiny Chinese girl with impersonal eyes. She spoke to Durell.

  "My grandfather is having a difficult time, Sam. I hate to interrupt your tete-a-tete, but—"

  "Can he go on?"

  "I think so. It's about four miles more. You can see the palace through the binoculars when the rain lifts."

  Durell scanned the opposite side of the valley near the gorge, as she indicated. The ram intervened. Then it lessened, and briefly he glimpsed a clearing and the bulk of a building on the cliff. Then it was gone. There were no villages in the valley and only a trace of the road that would be the main way in from t)ie bus highway. Nothing moved that he could see, but that meant nothing; the jungle formed a canopy over most of the road.

  "I don't see Paul's airstrip," he said.

  "That's beyond the big gorge. There's a valley past it, quite lovely and surprising, about two miles from the palace itself." Pala Mir paused. "I don't see any signs of life over there at all."

  Durell stood up and shouldered his pack and the Uzi. Lily Fan looked annoyed but stayed close to him.

  Only two hours of daylight remained when they started up the opposite slope of the valley. High above, the remote palace of the White Rajah seemed to hang on the cliff amid mountain palms and dense bamboo. Long trailers of vines hung down the stone face of the mountain, and a stream made a silvery thread through the thick greenery.

  They paused to rest, and the Rajah stood beside Durell. "It will be a difficult climb, but you are not to worry about me, sir. I will be all right, even if I fall behind. Pala Mir will help me. You and the little Chinese girl can go ahead if the trail is at all passable."

  "Are those caves in the cliffs?" Durell asked, pointing to dark areas partly screened by the vines.

  "Yes, some Buddhists used to live there, monks who came to meditate. They've been long deserted." The old man hesitated. "The palace itself was once a monastery, you see, before my father used it for a hunting lodge."

  "Any connection between the caves and the palace?"

  "There used to be. There were several tunnels to the caves, where the monks secluded themselves. The acolytes brought them food and water that way."

  "Who knows about these tunnels?"

  "No one, really."

  "Has Pala Mir ever been in them?"

  "Oh, no. I doubt if she ever heard of them."

  The climb was not as difficult as it appeared. The trail was clear and hard-packed, and the slackening rain did not interfere. Even so, a misty gloom filled the valley, and the Rajah's progress was even slower than he had promised. Presently he and Pala Mir were lost to sight beyond the twisting bends of the path. Durell found himself striding along with Lily Fan.

  They were almost to the lowest cave when the girl stmnbled, cried out, and almost slid from the path. Durell dropped the Uzi to grab for her, caught her hand, and hauled her back bodily. She sprawled breathlessly, then began to weep.

  "Oh, my ankle—"

  "Sit here." He placed her quickly against the wall of the cliff. Her skirt was torn and her face was scratched. Her eyes rolled wildly. "Don't faint," he snapped.

  «I_I won't. I'm sorry."

  "Can you stand up?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Try. You have to try."

  She turned on him in tearful anger. "How can you be so brutal? I didn't mean to slip and fall, did I?"

  "Did you?" he countered. "Now get on your feet."

  Her mouth qmvered. He looked back along the trail, but Pala Mir and the Rajah were not yet in sight. Above Durell and Lily was one of the dark openings in the cliff's face, one of the caves. The trail switched back about twenty yards from where they were and climbed steeply up to it.

  "Come along. We'll rest up there."

  "I'm afraid—"

  "Of what?"

  "I don't know—George, and you, and—"

  He got her on her feet and she chmg heavily to hun. He kept one hand free for the Uzi, however, as they worked their way upward. He had to push the vines aside from the cave entrance. Lily Fan sat on the trail, shivering, looking down over the precipice to the valley below. Inside the cave there were old Buddhist relics, bones both human and animal, a grinning demon whose gilt fac
e had long since eroded, and a series of erotic wall carvings. Trying not to breathe the foul air, Durell eased through the rubble. The cave came to a dead end. He was gone only three minutes when he returned to the trail.

  Lily Fan had vanished.

  Pala Mir and the Rajah were just catching up. They had not seen the Chinese giri. Durell swore and climbed up the path to the next cave entrance. Lily Fan was there, hands flat against the wall, her head turned to look for him.

  She looked terrified. "George is in there. I can hear him. He—he'll think I deserted him. He'll kill me!"

  "Why? He loves you, Lily."

  "No. No, he doesn't." She was near tears again. Durell eased to the cave entrance and motioned her to be silent. She gulped and pushed her hair from her roimd face. "Please help me. I—I'm sorry about everything—"

  "You knew what you were getting into when you started out with him," Durell said flatly.

  "But I didn't! I had no idea he could be like this. So cold. Cruel. A maniac!" She spoke eagerly. "He tried to kill you when you were swimming in the canal after Pala Mir, did you know that? He shot at you with his rifle from the window after you left the apartment."

  "All I know is that he missed."

  He could hear nothing from inside the cave. He swung the Uzi to cover Lily and said, "You go in first."

  "I couldn't!" she whispered desperately.

  He pulled her to her feet and forced her toward the cave mouth. Pala Mir and the Rajah came up the trail and joined them again. The Rajah looked pale, plainly exhausted. There was a desperate, despondent look in his seamed face. Pala Mir looked at Durell and said, "What's happened?"

  "Stay here with your grandfather. George Hammond is in the cave. Don't come in until I tell you."

  "Are you taking Lily with you?"

  "No, he's not!" Lily suddenly cried. Without warning she suddenly slipped out of Durell's grip and started to run up the path past the cave. Durell grabbed for her but missed. AH hope of surprising Hammond was lost now .in the noise he was forced to make. Maybe Lily Fan wanted it that way. He wasn't sure. He wasn't certain of anything at the moment. The Chinese girl was quick and elusive with no trace of injury that she had claimed. The trail took a sharp left turn and became a series of artificial steps cut into the rock. The girl scrambled up the series of low ledges with quick feet, not looking back.

  "Lily!" he called.

  He lifted the Uzi, then lowered it and halted. The base of the palace was only a hundred feet above, its stone foundations buttressed on top of the cliff. He could see no one up there, but he didn't dare raise his voice or fire a warning burst at the girl. He hahed, frustrated. The girl vanished around another bend in the trail. He halted, watching the dusk gather in the valley. A bird cried somewhere, and a single pebble came bouncing down the cliff.

  Pala Mir was hostile when he returned. "Is-she gone?"

  "She's gone."

  "Sorry? She's just a little tart who made use of George Hammond to gratify her sense of importance."

  "She's still Kuang's daughter. I feel a bit responsible for her."

  "Yes, I could see that."

  He wondered if Pala Mir was jealous or angry for other reasons. But he had no time to think about it. He turned to the cave, pondering whether or not Lily Fan had told the truth about Hammond being in there.

  He didn't like to go in. Hammond had surely heard the noises they had made outside. He'd be waiting in there like a cimning, dangerous jungle animal. He wanted to avoid an ultimate meeting with the man who was acting like a renegade, but he couldn't avoid it.

  He waved Pala Mir and the Rajah away from the cave, drew a deep breath, and stepped in.

  23

  More animal and human bones were strewn on the floor of this entry. Facing him in a niche cut into the rock was a long-forgotten shrine that encased the skeletons of a man and a woman engaged in exotic copulation. The stench inside made his stomach chum. There were ragged banners, a broken prayer wheel, a row of stone dragons, and a four-armed statue that indicated a mixture of Hindu and Buddhist beUefs.

  Trying to fight his nausea, he flattened against the wall and listened. His fingers were damp on the Uzi trigger, so he shifted the gun to dry his fingers before he moved on. The dim light, made dimmer by the rain that still fell, only penetrated a few feet into the cavern.

  At first he heard no sounds.

  Then there was a sharp click that made him tense. The Uzi jerked upward. He was aware of an unusual tension in him. He'd never faced anyone quite like George Hammond before. Hammond knew every trick in the bag and had invented a few of his own, besides. If he'd gone over the edge in a rabid desire to prove himself, then he was even more dangerous than usual.

  He heard another click.

  Beyond the four-armed statue, the cave narrowed into a ragged crevice that led deeper into the clifl[. It was only a vague, dark slot in the wall that grew darker by the moment as the daylight faded outside.

  Click.

  He thought of snakes, lizards, and jungle creatures that might inhabit the hole; but the sound seemed to be metalhc. Now he was sure Hammond was in there.

  With a long stride he crossed the bone-strewn floor and flattened against the wall beside the crevice. It was some ten feet high but less than two feet wide. He would have to go in sidewise. If it were anyone but Hammond, he'd go in with the Uzi blazing. But he had to let George make the first strike.

  He stepped into the crevice.

  Nothing happened.

  He waited, breathing Hghtly, aware of the dead air and the musty smell of long-rotted things on the stone floor. The darkness ahead was total. He felt the floor with his feet, took three steps inward, and halted. Water trickled somewhere. Suddenly, air fanned his cheek as he faced inward. He took another step, then went down on hands and knees in the rubble to feel the ground ahead an inch at a time as the narrow floor climbed steeply. He felt the trip wire brush his forearm as lightly as a fly.

  The wire stretched from wall to wall about twelve inches from the floor. He stood up slowly with deliberate calculation. There were no other wires. Carefully, then, he stepped over it. A pebble grated slightly under his shoe.

  He waited again. The cool draft of air against his face was stronger now.

  Faint light glimmered above him.

  He forced himself to breathe slowly. Sweat trickled down the nape of his neck. He wanted to call Hammond's name, but Hammond would know he was here. Hammond was waiting.

  He moved up again, stepping sidewise in the narrow crevice. It felt like a cofl^n. He studied the walls in the faint light that now flickered down from above. It was not daylight. A heap of bones lay in his path, strewn for about three feet ahead. He put down the Uzi and considered them. They were human bones, very old, desiccated, and broken. A skull grinned up at him. He did not want to step on the bones, and he could not see how Hammond had crossed the debris without leaving some trace of his passage.

  Then he saw the long femur bone, angled upward, just where he would have put his foot for the next step. One end was lodged in the wall, and he saw how it could act as a lever with his weight on the other end. A small chimney of holders and rocks would be dislodged, perhaps bringing the whole tunnel down on his head.

  Durell picked up the Uzi again and stepped around and over the booby trap.

  The light was brighter. It flickered with a pale yellow wash over the rocky walls. There were dark niches to the right, and some contained grotesque statues with monstrous leers and frowns, demons calculated to frighten any who dared to intrude this far. The slope of the floor lifted sharply, and Durell found himself staring into a larger cavern. No one was in it. A candle guttered on the floor, and there was a haversack, canvas-covered boxes, and a rifle piled beside the candle. The cave tunnel went on from the other side into the darkness again.

  He turned carefully to face the way he had come. He had a hard time controlling a sudden surge of panic.

  "Come on out, George," he said quietly.
>
  He saw the glint of Hammond's gun first. Hammond stepped out of one of the niches he had just passed. He felt no chagrin that George had gotten beWnd him. Durell looked at the gaunt man, looked at his gun, then at his eyes.

  They looked insane. Durell put down his Uzi.

  "Smart fellow," Hammond said.

  "How many did you kill to get this far?"

  "Six. Seven. I didn't think you'd make it, Cajun."

  Durell moved his head. "What's upstairs?"

  "Pao Thets. They use the palace as an HQ."

  "You've been up there?"

  "Sure. It's an arms depot, a field hospital, barracks. You name it. A regular commando base for murder."

  "Where did they come from?"

  Hammond shrugged. "Hanoi sent them. Or maybe Peking. It's all the same, isn't it? Step back a bit, Cajun, over there against the wall."

  Durell did as he was told.

  "Where are the others?" Hammond asked.

  "Outside the cave. We ran into Lily Fan."

  Hammond's deep-sunk eyes glittered. "The bitch. I should've killed the little bitch."

  "She crossed you?"

  "Yes, she crossed me. You're lucky. You got rid of her and you're still alive."

  Durell said, "I thought you were crazy about her."

  "I'm not crazy about anybody in this world." Hammond looked mad enough to destroy everything in his rage. His madness made him more dangerous because all his cunning, technique, and professionalism in this business had come to the fore. Durell said, "Can I put down my hands?"

  "Don't touch your knife. I can see it there in the right-hand pocket. Have you any TH-3's?"

  "Thermits? Yes. I've no quarrel with you, George."

  "Well, I do with you. I ought to wipe you, right now. I don't need any help, but—"

  "But—?"

  Hammond grinned. "The noise, buddy-wuddy. There are two hundred Pao Thets just over our heads. Of course, I could do it quietly with my hands—"

  "Don't try it. I don't want to kill you."