by Sewell, Ron
“Sheng Su say you good man but trouble follows you, like shadow. I have things you may need.” With a cheeky grin, he pushed a switch on the far wall. From above a panel slid open and an aluminium ladder descended. “Come.”
The hidden compartment contained a whole range of weapons. “I have what you want?” Wang licked his lips.
Petros picked up two Diamondback DB9s. “These are American.”
“Not genuine, copy but lighter and better. Made in China.”
“I’ll take them and two boxes of ammunition.”
“Ammunition free, pistols not cheap.”
Petros concealed both weapons inside his jacket before he descended the ladder and returned to the main shop. Wang followed a few minutes later.
On the counter, two pair of boots sat alongside two bulging rucksacks.
“Try the footwear, PK. The rucksacks contain more than we need for this job.”
Wang placed two ice picks and two knives on the surface. “These gift.”
“Perfect,” said Petros. “What’s the damage, Wang?”
“No damage. Good condition.”
“The cost, price, Yuan,” said Bear.
Wang rubbed his hands together and his eyes sparkled behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “Twenty thousand and five hundred Yuan, or three thousand US dollar.”
Bear’s stomach growled, reminding him it had been far too long since breakfast. “Two thousand five hundred dollars,” said Bear.
“You rob me and expect me to feed my family. Two thousand, seven hundred and fifty.”
“Done,” said Bear. “Bring this to our hotel this evening and I’ll give you US dollars.”
Wang became happy. “I bring later.”
Petros nodded. “You late, no US dollars.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Petros and Bear entered reception well past mid-afternoon.
Sheng met them. “Mr George is in his room. He wants to talk to you.”
“He can wait,” said Bear. “Any chance of a couple of bowls of soup and sandwiches, Sheng?”
“No problem. Ten minutes. You sit in restaurant.”
They sat in silence while the waitress cleared the debris from lunch.
Bear leant on the table. “Okay, where did you go with Weng?”
“Plan B sorted. You know, as I do, the Triads are unemotional murderers. George is out of his league in China and we’re not needed. I’m trying to figure out how we get out of this.”
Grim-faced, Bear nodded. “If we are forced to make a run for it, we’re snookered without passports and cash. We don’t speak the language, and with the Triads and the bent police chasing us, I don’t fancy our chances.”
“If there are people out to get you, it’s nice to know. I want to be prepared. One more thing, we stick to our plan.”
The waitress returned with soup, rolls and a large plate of sandwiches.
In between mouthfuls, Bear said, “What happens if we run into the opposition?”
Petros gave a hesitant smile. “No sweat. So long as everything is kosher, we’ll be one move ahead.”
Bear’s facial muscles stiffened. “Let me get this straight. We walk into the trap and close the door behind us.”
“So long as we remember to shut the door. That way no one gets out.” Petros nodded. “Didn’t you once say as a team we’re unbeatable? When the proverbial hits the fan, we run like rabbits. Time we talked to George.”
“Tell you what,” said Bear as he used a toothpick on his teeth, “I’ll go into town and get our US dollars from HSBC and you give George the bill. I’ll be back before dinner. It’s meat and potato pie, Chinese style. Can’t wait. ”
* * *
George dragged his unconscious mind awake. Tired and in a foul mood, he sat up and stretched. Half-asleep, he staggered and opened the door.
“Afternoon, George,” said Petros. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Yawning, George let him in, wandered across the room to the one comfy chair, and sat. “Any news?”
Petros paused a moment. “You owe me a few thousand dollars for climbing gear.”
George grimaced. “Sixteen wooden beads and a large hole in my bank balance. This is an indulgence I don’t have the money for. Are you going back to the Wall? ”
“Tonight is shit or bust time, George. We find nothing, we go home.”
“Find nothing, I’ll be going home.”
“Are you sure the police are off our backs?”
“The word of a high-ranking and powerful man cannot be doubted.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes. What time are you going?”
“After dinner.” Petros stared out of the window at a mass of dark clouds shuffling across the sky from the east and prayed it would not rain.
* * *
Petros returned to his room, and moments later someone hammered on the door. He opened it wide. Wang Da Fa and Sheng Su staggered in, carrying the climbing equipment.
“I bring,” said Wang. He gasped for breath. “You give dollars.”
Bear entered the room. “Perfect timing. Give the man his money.”
Bear thrust a beige envelope into Wang’s right hand. “Count, while we check our purchases.”
Wang found a thick wad of hundred dollar notes. He counted, and for good measure checked again. “Just right.”
“The gear’s all here, PK.”
Sheng Su ushered Wang out of the room while he chatted, closing the door as he went.
Petros walked out onto the balcony and stared into the distance. The sun descended behind the Great Wall and became a dark line across the sky. “Bear, what do you suppose our chances are of finding the treasure?”
“A snowballs chance in hell, but we have to go through the motions to be paid. What worries me is the contract George made with the Triads, and was Ding Lang included?”
“Plan B. We always have one.”
“It’s a plan I hope we don’t have to use. Whatever, I’m off for a shower and then dinner. I’ll meet you in the dining room at seven.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Petros checked the time from his lucky plastic watch - almost ten. “Bear, hike my rucksack up while I tighten the straps.” He, unlike his partner, had eaten a light dinner but both refrained from drinking alcohol.
“Give mine a shove up, PK.”
“Where’s George? I told him what time to be here.”
Someone rapped hard on the door. It opened and Petros stared at George.
“A taxi’s by the entrance.”
“Let’s get going,” said Petros. “I want to be in bed long before the sun rises.”
“He’s not amused, George,” said Bear as he trudged out of the room.
The taxi, its meter ticking, waited with the rear doors gaping.
Petros and Bear squeezed in, their rucksacks taking most of the room, and slammed the doors.
George sidled into the front passenger seat. “Ready?” He turned to the driver. “The Great Wall, Simatai construction site.”
The young man shook his head and regarded them with uncertainty. “Wall closed.”
“I’ll pay you double. Drive,” said George.
The man grinned and nodded.
The taxi stopped outside a compound, its lights revealing a building site and a line of parked trucks.
The three men alighted. George turned and pointed. “You wait.”
The driver shrugged.
Bear and Petros studied the surroundings. Two tall cranes, black and menacing, stood silent and unmoving. To their left, six steel cars rested on narrow-gauge railway lines that vanished into the dark. With little moonlight and a cloud-covered sky, everything blended into the shadows.
Bear stopped at the wire mesh gates. “They’re locked.”
“The key,” said George holding it in his right hand.
Amazed, Petros asked, “How come?”
“Commander Ding Lang. A most charming man.”
“That’s a m
an whose teeth I’d love to rearrange,” said Bear.
“Nevertheless, this will save time. Follow me.”
With the way open, George walked towards the corrugated iron shed by the cliff face, opened the metal door, entered and turned on a solitary light. The stench of heavy machine oil saturated the air. “Be careful where you stand. Health and safety on these sites is non-existent.”
“Where are we?” asked Petros as he pointed to a large electric motor to the rear of the compartment.
“The equipment necessary for rebuilding the wall is loaded into those railcars and hoisted to the top,” said George. “Get in. Green starts and red stops.”
“You don’t need me,” said George. “I’d get in the way and I don’t do physical. Wake me when you get back.” He departed and returned to the waiting taxi.
“Thank God he’s gone. Come on, PK, get your skinny arse into this rust-bucket.”
Petros jumped in, removed his backpack and dumped it into the rear of the railcar. “Ready for the roller-coaster ride?”
“Press the bloody button and stop being a drama queen.”
The motor turned, its gears rasping as they meshed. Sluggish, the car began to rise through the roof doors. Petros noticed the light in the room extinguished the instant the car exited the building.
“Beats climbing,” said Bear.
“I don’t disagree but why’s Ding Lang so helpful?”
“PK, one step at a time. I’m as worried as you are, but with luck we’ll stay ahead of their game. Pound to a dollar, nothing will happen before we find something.”
Petros rested his arms on the wooden rail in front. “China is not the best place to be arrested. Through no fault of our own, Ding Lang can't stand us and will stitch us up like grouse with clipped wings in the hunting season. You and I know his sort, and once his mind is fixed, we’re up shit creek.”
“Thanks a bunch. I needed to hear that.”
The railcar lurched and stopped alongside a small but level platform next to the wall.
Petros and Bear retrieved their backpacks and scrambled out.
Bear stood and stared towards Beijing. “Great view.”
“Come on, we’re not tourists on a guided tour. I reckon one and a half kilometres should bring us to tower thirty-four.”
“Lead on, boss.”
Petros marched away at a brisk pace along the top of the wall paved with rocks, smoothed by a million footsteps and aged by the weather. His eyes scanned the smooth slabs into the distance until they vanished in the dark. “There, the top left corner facing our hotel has a castellation missing.”
Days of studying the tower from photographs and through binoculars did not show the flare of the watchtower’s base. From where he stood, no problems existed down to a narrow ledge. From that point, it was a sheer crumbling sandstone cliff straight to the ground. In addition, seeds on the wind had sprouted and grown in the many crevices, forming a rich green wall.
Bear shone his torch over the brickwork. “Suggestion, PK. Two anchors, one here and another further back, and as you’re lighter than me, you can abseil to the ledge first. I’ll work number two rope from the far end of the tower and pull you across the face. You can always jumar up a metre or two and I’ll let you fall back to the lower side.”
“Let's give it a go, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll do it the hard way. I’ll cover the right half and you the left.”
Bear emptied his rucksack and laid out his gear in an organised fashion, before preparing the anchors. “Two fixed bolts. If they fail, and I doubt if they will, there’s a third at the rear of the wall.”
Petros peered over the parapet and adjusted his harness.
“Ready?” said Bear.
Petros checked everything twice. “Can’t be too sure. Good job it’s dark. Heights play havoc with my vertigo.”
A smile flickered on Bear’s lips. “I’ll never figure out how you finished army officers training.”
“Closed my eyes and thought of England, old chap.” He swallowed hard and positioned his feet on the edge, took up the strain and leaned back. With one bound, he began his one-handed descent. Shrubs and small trees brushed his frame until his feet found the ledge. He turned on his headlamp, its beam lighting up a section before he secured to the wall.
One tug of the line informed Bear he was in position. “Now where does X mark the spot?” His eyes scanned the joints between the bricks and quarried stones but the foliage cover made it difficult. Side stepping along the projection, he examined the brickwork. There appeared to be no pattern to suggest a concealed entrance. Engrossed, he fell off the end and hung. A light from above pinpointed his position.
For a few moments he moved back and forth, his headlamp lighting the wall. A change in the bottom row of bricks caught his attention. With care, he used his feet to walk along the face until he found the row of quarried stones. He pondered a million-to-one possibility – the walkway from the original staircase into the chamber, good solid stone.
Well, one way to find out. He pulled himself onto the ledge, tugged the line three times, and waited.
Clumps of shrubbery fell, warning him to protect his head as Bear lowered a bag of tools. Petros yanked the rope and it stopped, suspended at waist height.
He removed a battery-powered drill and masonry bit. Ready, and using his body, he pressed the bit into a crevice where four bricks joined. With his left hand he started the drill. In the silence, the noise appeared awful as the twenty-centimetre bit ground its way through the ancient mortar. Petros withdrew, secured a longer bit, and continued drilling.
“Fucking bingo,” he whispered. He signalled to Bear, who in less than a minute dropped alongside him. “You were fast.”
“I was ready, jumped over the edge and here I am. Find something?”
“There’s a cavity behind this wall. Treasure maybe, but without doubt a bloody great hole.”
“Why are you hanging there with your thumb up your bum?” Bear opened the joints with a hammer, long chisel and a crowbar. One hour elapsed before the first brick tumbled inside the chamber.
“Do you want to peek?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Bear. With his head to one side, he directed the beam of his headlamp through the opening. “Well I’ll be a whore’s bastard.”
“I know that.”
“Can’t see a bloody thing.”
“Let me take a gander.” Petros checked from every angle. “Nothing. What we need is more light.”
“Or a bigger hole.”
“The battery’s more or less dead on the drill.”
“Brute force and ignorance works every time. With one brick out, we should be able to remove a few more without too much trouble.”
Petros drilled the vertical line of holes until the battery died. “That’s it. Give it your best shot or we return to the hotel and come back tomorrow.”
“If you imagine I’m losing two nights sleep, think again, sunshine. It’s shit or bust time.” Bear jammed the crowbar into the narrow slot and pulled. With an almighty crack, the stone slid to one side. Two more fell away, one from the top, the other from the bottom.
“I suppose I’m the guinea pig as your fat, hairy arse will get stuck tight.”
“You’re the boss. I am but a humble servant.”
“Shut up and find me a candle. I’m not crawling in there to find out I can’t breathe.”
With the lit candle in his right hand, he presented it to the hole before stretching to full reach. The flame gave off a good light and remained steady. “Bear, hold my feet and be ready to pull me out.”
Petros twisted his shoulders and eased his way in, his eyes all the time on the glistening candle. Halfway through, he peered with the aid of his headlamp into the dark. A metre below the opening a cobbled path vanished in the distance. He lowered the candle to the ground, spilling globules of hot wax to secure it. The flame burned bright, flickering from the draught.
“Bear, the air’s
breathable.”
“Don’t be a hero. Tie this rope around your waist or Maria will roast my balls for breakfast.”
“Trust me. That’s last thing I want.”
With Bear holding his feet, he crawled over the edge, allowing his body to angle to the ground. His hands contacted the floor. “Let go. I’m good. Hey, Bear, I now appreciate what Howard Carter experienced when he opened up the tomb of Tutankhamen.”
“Didn’t he die from a curse?”
“No, cancer. He’s buried in Putney Vale Cemetery.”
“Aren’t you full of useless information?”
“Right, I’m ready to start checking this place out.”
He placed one foot with care in front of the other, testing the ground as he shuffled ahead. Every now and then he paused to test the air at ground level. The beam from his headlamp revealed descending stone steps. Cautious, he took one at a time. On the tenth, the flame flickered and died. “Shit.” He shone his torch into the space, his eyes searching. Disappointed, he made his way back to the opening.
Bear helped him out. “Good news, I hope.”
“Yeah. The air’s foul and we need powerful lights. It’s a large cave, but with luck this hole and a strong breeze will ventilate it by tomorrow night.”
“Right, shove our equipment in the hole. No point in carrying it back to the hotel.”
With their gear stowed, Bear assisted Petros to ascend to the top of the wall. The discovery of the cave gave them much needed hope.
* * *
“So what are we going to do?” Bear asked.
Petros thought before saying another word. “If the treasure’s in there, we’re dead meat on a butcher’s hook. We need an escape plan.”
A shiver walked down Bear’s spine. “We have as much chance of escaping as a chocolate frog in a crematorium. For the moment, we say nothing.”
Petros stared at the distant lights of the town where ordinary people worked, played, and progressed with their lives. He tried to visualise the conditions those border guards endured so long ago. Sat on the Great Wall at four in the morning did nothing for his mood. “Bear, we’re in deep shit and the odds of getting out are fading.”
