‘If we’re going to abseil off there, we’re going to need more than one rope,’ Bill said, gesturing to the rucksack at his feet.
Chen stared at him for a moment, then nodded his consent. As Bill folded back the top of the rucksack, he saw the big soldier’s grip tighten on the rifle, taking no chances.
‘Easy,’ Bill said, moving with exaggerated slowness. ‘Easy. We’re not going to cause any trouble.’
He handed their rope over to the soldier, then moved back a few paces so that he was shoulder to shoulder with Luca.
‘Take it easy, Luca,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’
Luca stared directly ahead, watching every movement the soldiers made.
‘They’re trapped in there,’ he breathed, glancing sidelong towards the crack. ‘We’ve got to think of something. And fast.’
Chapter 52
Norbu sprinted down the corridor, the clatter of his sandals echoing noisily behind him. In one hand he held a burning torch which trailed black smoke. His breath came in long choking sobs.
He had killed Drang. Killed another human being!
The full horror of the notion welled up inside him, choking him with guilt. He would be expelled from the order, left to wander in the wilderness as Geltang’s gates were slammed shut behind him.
He gasped, only managing to half-fill his lungs in panic. He could feel hysteria growing inside him with each door he passed and stairway he descended. His vision started to close in, becoming a circular tunnel of light surrounded by inky blackness. It was dizzying. His shoulder crashed into the wall beside him, sending him staggering off balance, but still his legs continued pounding over the flagstones. They felt numb and detached, as if they belonged to another person entirely.
He had to get to him, to tell him what he had done.
‘Abbot!’ he cried out. ‘Please… Abbot!’
The Perfect Life. That’s what Rega had said.
Just ahead he saw the chain and the trapdoor. With a frantic straining of his arms, he pulled up the heavy wooden door and scampered down the steps, letting the door slam shut behind him. The air below was still; the only sound his own panicked breathing. Norbu waved the torch ahead of him as he edged down the tunnel, directing its orange glow across the murals. Terrible images leaped out at him, with open mouths and fangs, clawing to touch him.
‘A… A… Abbot…’ Norbu stammered, eyes wide with fear. ‘Abbot!’
‘My child, I am here.’
At the sound of the Abbot’s voice, Norbu swivelled his head to face the end of the tunnel. He lunged forward, swinging the torch from side to side, hunting in the darkness. There was a statue shimmering up ahead and Norbu raced towards it, nearly toppling it from its plinth.
Behind it a figure was seated in an alcove, bound by leather straps. As the flames of the torch leaped higher, a mop of hair fell back to reveal pale, unfocused eyes. The apparition’s face remained set for a moment, then slowly creased into an expression of infinite pain. The whole face was hollow, tortured; it was as if he was staring straight into the naked soul of the man. Norbu screamed, falling back against the statue and waving the torch frantically to ward off the sight.
‘Here, child,’ the Abbot called, louder now. ‘I am here.’
Norbu twisted round and raced back along the tunnel. More statues, more recesses. As he hurried past them, the light revealed yet more figures, trussed up in the darkness. They looked up one by one, their eyes staring vacantly at the sudden disturbance to their endless days.
The Abbot was in the last but one alcove. Straps had been bound across his body with the buckles pulled unnaturally tight, forcing his back into a painful arch. His hands were tied with rope in front of him, with the remaining coils looped round his ankles to prevent him moving his legs. Despite it all, his expression was calm. He looked up at Norbu, his forehead creasing in concern.
‘My dear child, calm yourself,’ he said, his voice steady and soothing. ‘Whatever has happened, we will make amends.’
Norbu crashed down on to his knees, letting the torch drop by his side so that sparks were dashed across the stone floor. He put his head on to the Abbot’s chest and wept openly.
‘I have… killed a man!’ he choked out, the strength of his emotions nearly winding him. ‘I… didn’t mean to… but he kept on…’
The Abbot waited, ignoring the pain caused by the boy’s weight leaning against him. Norbu drew in one shuddering breath, then another, and gradually his crying eased. He raised his head, eyes red from tears, and the Abbot smiled.
‘Come, untie me, young Norbu,’ he said. ‘We must not let the fear take control of us. Everything will be well.’
Norbu nodded hesitantly then reached up to the Abbot’s shoulder, unclipping the first of the leather straps with shaking hands. He unwound them from the Abbot’s frail body, looping them back over themselves with each turn. Eventually, the Abbot’s body was released and he exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders fall back into their natural position. Then he reached forward himself, using the torch flame to eat through the thick woven rope around his wrists. It smouldered and blackened before finally pulling apart. With a final kick, the Abbot freed himself and got stiffly to his feet, using Norbu for support.
‘Well done indeed,’ he said, his arm draped over his aide’s shoulder. ‘Only in the most adverse situations do we ever truly know ourselves. And you have shown great courage.’
Norbu bit his lip, the horror beginning to drain from his face.
‘Now, do you have the strength to help an old man one last time?’ the Abbot continued. ‘We must find Dorje and the rest of the elders. Once they hear me speak, we will restore order to Geltang and quell this panic Rega has created.’
The Abbot hobbled forward with Norbu at his side, their shoulders pressed together in the tight confines of the corridor. With their combined strength, they heaved open the trapdoor and slowly clambered out into the brightly lit corridor above.
‘Rega has the entire order in the Great Temple. I saw him there myself,’ Norbu explained. ‘He has the Dharmachakra and was…’ His voice faded into silence and his expression suddenly froze. He was staring over the Abbot’s shoulder.
‘What is it, my child?’ the Abbot asked, turning to follow the direction of his gaze.
From the shadows behind the last torch a nightmare figure emerged, striding towards them. The entire top half of its body was naked, revealing brawny slab-like muscles across its abdomen. The skin was red and shining, flaked in patches stretched across the shoulders and thickset neck. Then, as it stepped further into the light, the hideous face of Drang emerged.
Both the Abbot and Norbu froze, paralysed by what they saw. The entire right side of his face was charred black, with raw flesh striped across the neckline. His right eye looked too big for the socket as the delicate skin around it had burned away. From within the exposed orbit, the damaged eye stared at them with violent hatred.
With a mighty swing of his arm, Drang knocked Norbu clean off his feet. The boy’s body arched in mid-air, before crashing down on top the flagstones with a sickening slap. He lay absolutely still as Drang swung back towards the Abbot, his singed flesh only inches from the old man’s face.
‘Rega will punish you for this,’ he seethed, and before the Abbot could even speak, he had grabbed him by the shoulder of his robes, dragging him back along the corridor to the Great Temple and the judgement that awaited him.
Chapter 53
Luca pulled the abseiling rope from his harness and turned around to find four more soldiers standing at the base of the cliff. Two of them had their rifles trained on him, covering him from a distance, while the others dragged a body through the snow by the shoulder straps of its webbing. They were heading for a small semi-circle of tents at the edge of the Kooms.
The heels of the dead soldier’s boots ploughed grooves in the deep snow and Luca followed, trying to stop himself from staring at the man’s face. His neck lolled u
nnaturally to one side and the entire top section of his head had caved in from the impact of a fall. As they approached the first of the tents, the body was carefully laid next to another, before the soldiers swiftly assembled two collapsible shovels and began piling snow over them both.
Bill and Luca were shunted forward towards the centre of the campsite. A single figure was standing there, waiting, the epaulettes on his shoulder glimmering gold in the moonlight.
As the big soldier from the cliff approached him, the figure listened carefully to what he was saying. Then he reached into his trouser pocket and the sudden flare of a cigarette lighter briefly illuminated the man’s face. It was ashen, with black eyes that stared at them without a trace of emotion.
The figure came closer, halting in the snow just in front of Bill and Luca. As he drew the smoke into his lungs, the tip of the cigar-ette glowed in the darkness.
‘I offer you one chance. Give me the boy and I will release the pair of you.’
The man’s voice was light, almost conversational. Both Bill and Luca remained silent.
‘The boy,’ the figure repeated.
Zhu then turned to Chen, standing just to his right.
‘Make them understand,’ he said in Mandarin.
Chen inhaled slowly, wishing the captain had chosen another of the soldiers standing nearby. An image of the Westerner standing over him with a rock raised above his head flashed through his mind. Would the captain have hesitated like that? Would the captain have spared his life?
Chen stepped forward, halting just in front of Luca. The Westerner was staring up at him, eyes shining with a mixture of arrogance and defiance. From that single look Chen sensed that he would not back down, that he wouldn’t be intimidated by a few simple punches or threats. This was going to go all the way.
He hesitated, his hands balling into fists.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Zhu snapped from behind him.
With a sudden twist of his body, Chen brought his hand whipping across Luca’s face. His head jerked backwards with the force of the blow.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Bill shouted, clambering to his feet. Immediately one of the soldiers behind him grabbed him by his shoulders while another rammed the butt of his rifle into the back of his knees, collapsing him into the snow. Bill clenched his jaw in pain as the scars across his thigh split open once again.
‘We’re British Nationals,’ he said, grimacing. ‘You’ve no right to do this.’
Zhu didn’t respond, signalling instead for Chen to continue. With a jab of his arm, he sent his fist crashing into the bridge of Luca’s nose. There was a sharp crack and Luca’s head snapped backwards. He groaned in pain then slowly raised his head again, spitting out a thick string of blood into the snow in front of him.
‘The boy,’ Zhu repeated. ‘I want the boy.’
Luca stared up at him, blood oozing out between his teeth.
‘Fucking coward,’ he said, spitting the words out.
Zhu inhaled on his cigarette, his expression unchanged. Then, with a brief nod of his head, he motioned for Chen to continue. Chen lashed out with both fists, thudding them down on to Luca’s head and chest. He did it again, and again, until sweat ran from his temples and the skin across his knuckles tore open. His eyes were half-shut as frustration boiled into a terrible anger. If only the Westerner would say something, he could stop. All he had to do was talk.
Blows rained down on Luca’s head.
‘Talk!’ Chen bellowed in Mandarin. ‘Just fucking talk!’
Luca collapsed back on to the snow, his body limp. Two more soldiers moved forward to prop him on to his knees, but Luca’s whole body swayed and his head lolled forward. Bill reached out an arm to steady him.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he murmured, taking in the terrible damage to Luca’s face. The skin above his right eye had split, weeping blood down his cheek and neck. The other cheek was already swelling, the eye above it starting to close. Bill turned to stare directly at Chen.
‘You animal,’ he hissed.
Chen stepped backwards. With his hands still clenched into fists, he stared down at the Westerner’s face. He watched the blood slowly ooze from it and a wave of guilt washed over him. All the energy seemed to drain from his body. His shoulders sagged with self-disgust. He had nearly beaten the Westerner to death with his bare hands.
Zhu stepped closer, leaning over Luca. He stubbed the cigarette out, pressing it down into the snow with the toe of his boot.
‘There are only a few hours left till dawn and my patience is running out. I am going to ask you for the last time: where is the boy?’
Luca blinked, the pounding at his temples searing right across his forehead. The figure before him swam in and out of focus and he could hear the sound of his own breathing. Eventually he shook his head.
‘No.’
There was silence as the word resonated through the still air. Chen shut his eyes, leaning his head back towards the sky. He knew what was coming. He wanted to reach across and grab hold of the Westerner, tell him to say something! Say anything! They had no idea who they were dealing with.
Zhu unclipped the pistol from the side of his belt. With a sharp click he pulled back the slider, chambering the first round and pushing off the safety. Then he slowly raised the pistol level with Bill’s head, the sights hovering just an inch from the end of his nose.
‘If you don’t care for your own life,’ Zhu said, only his eyes moving towards Luca, ‘then perhaps you will value your friend’s more highly.’
‘Tell, tell!’ Chen shouted, the words bursting from him. ‘He kill you.’
Luca looked from the pistol to Bill’s face and back again. The pain pulsing across his temples suddenly faded and every sound around the campsite seemed to amplify. The slightest movement registered in his brain, from the fidgeting of the men in the semi-circle around them, to the pleading eyes of the big soldier in front. He could see the officer’s knuckles tightening around the pistol grip and the hatred in his cold eyes. Every movement seemed to slow in that single instant, stretching out in terrible suspense.
‘OK,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll tell you what you want to know.’
Zhu didn’t respond but held the pistol level, waiting for him to continue.
‘There’s a monastery a few hours from here, over the mountain,’ Luca said, his voice a rambling, continuous flow. ‘The boy is being held there by the monks.’
‘It is as I thought,’ Zhu said. ‘Do you know the way to the monastery from here?’
Luca looked across at Bill’s face. He was frozen still, his eyes screwed shut. His lips were moving in silent prayer.
‘I know the way.’
‘Then I don’t need you both,’ Zhu said, and his hand suddenly jerked upwards. There was a deafening crack and Bill was flung back behind them on to the snow. He lay flat, arms stretched out behind his head, and remained perfectly still.
Luca stared, his mind reeling, stunned by the noise of the explosion. It resonated through every fibre of his body, deafening him. A thin spray of blood was wet upon his face and he stared in mute horror at the empty space where Bill had just been.
Suddenly his whole body began to shake, horror rising up from his chest in choking, gasping waves. His mind felt numb, detached from what he had just witnessed by complete disbelief. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible that Bill could be dead. He turned, his eyes passing over the prostrate form in the snow behind him. A patch of black blood was fanning out from under the head.
Luca was dimly aware of the other soldiers moving behind him. They had turned their heads away from the scene, staring silently up to the far mountain as if trying not to register what they saw.
‘We leave at first light,’ Zhu commanded, his voice matter-of-fact as he addressed the men. ‘We will get the Westerner to lead us there. When we reach the monastery, it is imperative that the boy is taken alive.’
Zhu stared down at Luca’s grief-stricken face.
‘And take his boots. That should ensure he doesn’t try to leave us during the night.’
With that he turned back towards his own tent. The remaining soldiers slowly dispersed, one of them running a knife down the laces of Luca’s boot and pulling them from his feet so that he stood in his socks in the snow. Despite the icy cold, he didn’t even notice.
In only a few moments he was alone with the body of his friend. Finally the tears came. He wept in choked bursts, his right hand clutching on to Bill’s chest as he felt the body heat slowly drain away.
He had no idea how much time had passed before he was lifted to his feet. He felt his arm being pulled over the big soldier’s wide back as he was helped across the open patch of snow to a tent.
Chen gently lowered him inside, pulling his own sleeping bag across Luca’s legs. Without a word, Luca curled up into the foetal position, eyes staring blankly at the dark wall of the tent.
Chen straightened up, inhaling the cold night air. He stared at the far line of mountains. The peaks seemed to trail seamlessly into the night. It was the dark before dawn and an eerie calm presided over the world. He let his hand pass over the breast pocket of his jacket and the photos of his family inside. He tried to picture his son’s smiling face, but could see only the faint silhouette of the Westerner lying dead in the snow.
He had always been told that the boy’s capture was their only mission, but when they reached the monastery at daybreak tomorrow, what was really going to happen?
Chen inhaled again, feeling the freezing air sear his lungs. He shut his eyes and tried harder to visualise his own boy.
Deep inside, he already knew what Zhu was planning.
Chapter 54
Two heavy climbing boots landed on Luca’s chest. He reached up slowly, running his fingers over the worn canvas and hard, rubberised soles. From somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognised them as his own.
Through the triangular opening of the tent door, he saw the broad-set face of the same Chinese soldier who had beaten him.
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