‘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. There was a dull slap as Luca’s 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 quick jab of his arm, Chen sent his fist crashing into the bridge of Luca’s nose. There was a sharp crack and Luca’s head snapped backwards again. 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, he motioned once again. Inhaling deeply, Chen raised himself to his full height and tilting his body forward lashed out with both fists, thudding them down on to Luca’s head and chest. He did it again, and again. The blows became faster, his huge fists hammering down indiscriminately as his arms swung in wide, powerful arcs. The constant fear he had been living with since he had first met captain Zhu, boiled over into a terrible consuming rage. His eyes were half-shut and his body heaved from the effort, until sweat ran from his temples and the skin across his knuckles tore open. If only the Westerner would say something, he could stop. All he had to do was talk.
‘Talk!’ Chen bellowed in Mandarin. ‘Just fucking talk!’
Bill tried to get to his feet, his right hand reaching up to grab hold of Chen, but before he had even got off one knee, the two soldiers behind had wrestled him back down to the ground. He shouted in defiance, wrenching his shoulders from side to side and hitting out with his elbows as he tried to break free. Despite the soldiers’ combined strength, they struggled to hold him back until two more of their number stepped forward to help. Their hands gripped tight, bunching the fabric of Bill’s jacket in their fists, until all he could do was stare in horror at the terrible beating.
As Chen raised his fist once more, Luca simply collapsed back on to the snow, his body limp. Two of the soldiers holding Bill moved forward to prop Luca up on to his knees, but his whole body sagged 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 well up above the eye, before dripping down onto his cheek and a wave of guilt broke over him. All the energy seemed to drain from his body and 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, murmuring a single word.
‘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 distorted by the blood in his mouth. ‘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 from the pistol and a flash of light as Bill was flung back behind them on to the snow. He lay flat, arms stretched out past 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. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around. Shock held him perfectly still, his mind detached by complete disbelief.
Suddenly he began to shake, the horror rising up from his chest in choking, gasping waves. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible that Bill could be dead. He forced himself to turn around, 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 knelt 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. It was still warm, but as he stayed in the same position, limbs locked by the confusion and grief, he could feel 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. An image of Bill’s face was all that he could see. He imagined the soft eddies of snow gently collecting in the damaged eye sockets as the very last vestiges of heat drained from his body. How could Bill be gone? How could such life and strength be so easily snuffed out?
A terrible cramping spread across his stomach. He groaned, pulling his hands down to his waist and pressing them against his abdomen. The sickness was laced with self-pity and disgust. Cathy. He would have to be the one to tell Cathy what had happened. He would have to see her disbelieving stare turn to hatred and recrimination as he told her what had happened. He could see it all so clearly now – standing in their kitchen with Hal and Ella playing outside, Cathy’s face distorting from grief as she sank down onto her knees on the cold, tiled floor.
The cramping grew worse. Luca groaned softly, pulling his feet up higher and hugging his knees tight with his arms. Cathy. How could he ever face her again?
Outside the tent, Chen straightened up and moved towards the centre of the campsite. He stared at the far line of mountains inhaling deeply. The peaks seemed to trail seamlessly into the night. It was the dark before dawn and an eerie calm presided over everything. 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.
‘Get up,’ the soldier whispered, his eyes anxious.
Luca dragged himself upright, his body leaden and unresponsive. He stared at the soldier from puffy, black-ringed eyes, the whole left side of his face swollen and bruised. His mouth hung open, dry blood splattered across his lips as he just sat there, his mind reeling with confusion.
The soldier reached forward with one arm and dragged Luca closer to the opening.
‘Get boots on,’ he said, keeping his voice low.
Luca reached down automatically, pulling the tongue of the boots wide and jamming them on over his iced up socks. Without laces, the boots flapped open as he crawled outside into the cold night air.
The soldier was standing in front of him, Bill’s rucksack in his hands. A few coils from a climbing rope poked out from the half-closed top.
‘Go!’ he breathed, pointing to the snow gulley. ‘Dawn one hour. You leave now.’
Luca blinked, trying to wake himself up. Could this be some kind of trick? He looked past the soldier towards the other tents but the entire campsite was still. They were alone. For a long moment, Luca just stood there, staring into the middle distance. Then the numbness seemed to finally thaw, replaced by an overwhelming desire to escape. With a sudden jerk of his arm, he snatched his rucksack from the soldier’s grasp and turned to leave. Then he suddenly stopped.
A few feet ahead of him, Bill’s body lay in the snow. His arms were still outstretched and his face angled towards Luca. Luca stared, transfixed. Bill’s eyes were dull and glassy. His face looked different, like a carbon copy of the original. It was as if the real Bill had gone, leaving only a likeness behind.
‘He dead,’ Chen whispered, shaking Luca’s shoulder. ‘But you have chance for living.’
Luca tore his gaze away, staring direct into Chen’s eyes.
‘How do you live with such horror?’ he asked.
Not waiting for an answer, he turned and sprinted forward without looking back, every ache and bruise forgotten as he powered his way up through the deep snow.
Chen watched the Westerner’s outline fade to grey before disappearing into the shadow of the overhanging cliff. He turned, walking back to the campsite with his head held low. Pulling one of the collapsible shovels from the ground, he dug it in the ground and began shovelling snow over Bill’s frozen body.
Without completely understanding the Westerner’s last words, he had gathered their meaning.
There was only one hour left till dawn. Very soon Zhu would order the raid on the monastery. Right now, he couldn’t afford to think.
‘Shara!’
Luca’s shout drifted out across the black rocks. He stopped, listening for the slightest sound.
‘Shara!’
Looking up, he saw the first flecks of dawn rising over the eastern sweep of mountains, bathing the sky in long, blood-red streaks. As each minute passed the light grew in strength, seeping across the sky and burning off the night’s gloom.
Luca stared from one rock to the next, desperately trying to make sense of the landscape. Everything looked so damn similar.
‘Shara!’
From somewhere to his left, he heard a muffled echo. It was closer to the cliff edge than he had been looking. Sprinting forward, he leaped over a few boulders in his way then changed direction as he heard the noise again. It was clearer now. It could only be Shara.
Luca bellowed her name as he frantically scanned the ground. Finally, he saw it.
‘Luca! We’re down here!’ Shara’s voice flooded up through the crack in the rock, bringing tears of relief to his eyes. He scrabbled in his rucksack, pulling out the rope and tying it off around a boulder.
‘Tie yourself on,’ he shouted.
He began emptying the top half of his rucksack, scattering the contents in a semi-circle around him. Brushing aside the fuel bottles for the MSR stove and a spare pair of gloves, he untangled the long sling filled with their climbing hardware and pulled it free from the pack. Unclipping two pulleys and some carabineers, he uncoiled two stretches of five-millimetre prussic rope, wrapping them onto the main line down to Shara. Attaching the pulleys on to the same rope, he then started heaving backwards on the rope system, slipping the prussic knots forward with each pull. Metre by metre, Shara and Babu were hoisted up.
Shara’s hand came over the edge first. Luca turned his body to offset the strain and grabbed on to her wrists, dragging her whole body out from the ground. With Babu still clinging to her neck, she fell forward against him, hugging him tight.
‘Luca!’ she whispered, her face buried in his shoulder. ‘We thought you weren’t coming back. It was so dark . . . so cold.’
After a moment she pulled back from him, her eyes passing across his broken face.
‘What did they do to you?’ she whispered, gently reaching her hand up to his cheek.
He didn’t answer, shutting his eyes as the images flashed through his mind. His head tilted down towards the ground as he tried to speak.
‘They . . . they shot . . . Bill,’ he managed finally, his voice cracking.
Shara
’s face froze. Then her eyes widened slowly in disbelief, begging him to tell her it was not true.
‘Why?’ she whispered.
‘There was no reason. I’d told them everything they wanted to know.’
Shara’s hands moved to her own face and she covered her eyes. Her lips began moving in prayer. She stood with her feet apart, swaying slightly as the words poured out of her. Luca watched her for a moment, then his expression began to change. The terrible grief seemed to crystallise, replaced by something bitter and cold. He reached down to the ground, violently jamming the contents of his rucksack back inside.
‘There’s no time for this,’ he said, without looking at her. ‘We’ve got to get to Geltang before they do.’
He waved one hand, signalling for Babu to come to him, but the boy hesitated. A dark swelling disfigured Luca’s face, and his eyes shone with a savage anger. Babu gripped tighter on to Shara’s leg before Luca reached forward and ripped him from her, swinging the child up and across his shoulder. Babu struggled under his rigid arm until Shara put her hand on his head, smoothing back his tousled hair.
‘It’ll be OK,’ she said, her voice laced with grief and tears. ‘Just trust him.’
Luca set off with his rucksack slung over one shoulder and Babu across the other. He moved fluidly, jogging across the broken terrain with Shara trailing behind him. The tongues of his boots flapped as he ran with the severed laces dragging under the soles, but he didn’t once break his stride.
‘What do we do?’ Shara panted, struggling to keep up. ‘Evacuate the monastery?’
Luca didn’t seem to hear. Sweat ran down his face as he stared out at the far edge of the cliff, to where the snow gulley rose up to meet it.
‘Luca?’ Shara shouted, lunging forward to grab on to his arm. Luca’s eyes briefly took in the sight of her hand resting on him before he turned away.
‘There’s no time,’ he said, the words punched out in rhythm with his breath.
As they came round the last section of the cliff, Luca drew to a halt. Letting Babu slide from under his arm, he crawled forward across the snow, his bare hands sinking into it, then climbed up the back of the snow cornice. Staring down into the gulley, he could see the camp. The Chinese were still there. There was the sound of distant shouting and a soldier emerged from his tent, standing in the middle of the campsite. A few seconds later more men bundled out, buttoning up their jackets.
The Forbidden Temple Page 31
