by Guy d'Armen
Fooled by the ruse, the bandits, who thought they had hit the young westerner, rushed out of their hiding place and ran towards the body.
“Now!” shouted Ardan.
Immediately, Milarepa and her three companions opened fire. Following Ardan, they rode out of the canyon hacking with their swords and spraying bullets as they went.
One of the escort was fatally struck by one of the bandits’ bullets and fell, but the other two men managed to follow Ardan and Milarepa as they rode at high speed into the night.
Two days later, the four riders arrived in Lhasa without having any further bad encounters. The town was dwarfed by the palace of the Dali Lama, the Living Buddha of the Holy City.
They waited until nightfall to enter the town, where various festivities were being held, in order to not attract undue attention. The streets were filled by all kinds of men, many drunk on arak, and Milarepa was fearful that their presence, if detected, could result in a blood bath.
One of the two survivors from Shigatse knew of a discreet inn where the two young people would not be disturbed. So, after sunset, they rode cautiously to the inn where they booked a suite of rooms.
The next day, Milarepa went out to make inquiries. She returned at noon.
“Prince Manjitar, my father, is currently at the Drepung monastery,” she reported. “I’ll go and see him this afternoon.”
“Who told you?” inquired Ardan.
“The Kenchung, Governor, of the city. It makes sense because I know that the High Lama in charge of that Monastery is a friend of my family. Even if my father isn’t there, at least he’ll tell me where he’s gone. It’ll take me a couple of hours to get there and back. It’s across the Turquoise Bridge and up Mount Potala. But it’s better if I go alone. Until I come back, stay in our room. Don’t trust anyone, either man or beast.”
She left before Ardan had a chance to ask her to clarify her last warning.
Despite her advice, the young man chose to go down to the common room of the inn to order hot broth with some meat for lunch. He understood what Milarepa had meant when he saw a small dog trot in, stop before him, and growl, his lips curled and hair standing on end. The young man understood at once that the dog’s sense of small had identified him as a foreigner to these lands.
Dipping a piece of bread in the meat-flavored broth, he was, however, quickly able to gain the animal’s trust and a few morsels of meat on top soon convinced the dog that this stranger was, in fact, his new best friend.
Having learned his lesson, the young man hurried back to his room, locked the door, and waited for Milarepa’s return.
When the young woman came back, her face clearly betrayed her disappointment.
“My father left the Drepung Monastery, where he had found refuge after my kidnapping. According to the High Lama, he has gone to Sikkim.”
“That means crossing the whole of Tibet again,” said Ardan, frowning, unhappy at the prospect.”
“Unfortunately yes; but this time, we’ll take a different route. We’ll travel along the Brahmaputra river. That way, we’re sure to avoid Mendax’s men. It’s a long detour, but the High Lama of Drepung has agreed to provide us with fresh horses, food and weapons.”
The next morning, the two young people started their long journey riding on a path that followed the banks of the Brahmaputra. Ardan could see many fish swimming through the clear waters of the river.
“Don’t the Tibetans ever fish?” he asked Milarepa.
“Not really,” she replied. “As you know, our religion forbids us to kill wild animals.”
“Well, at least, we’re not going to starve.”
“There is no risk of that. Truth to tell, quite a few Tibetans do fish when they’re sure they’re not being observed. We’ll have no trouble buying supplies along the way.”
Several hours later, they reached a place where the path crossed a smaller stream that ended in the Brahmaputra, but the recent storm had dragged in a lot of sand, causing the entire area to become muddy and hard to navigate.
Fortunately, a crew of several men was already at work clearing the crossing. With their help, they were able to successfully reach the other bank.
Just then, they heard the sound of a motor coming from the air above. A grey object had just appeared amongst the clouds.
“A plane!” said Ardan.
Milarepa said a few words to the Tibetans who had helped them with the crossing, then told her companion:
“I ordered them to go and hide. That plane must belong to Mendax.”
“Yes, absolutely. The Tibetans have no planes and the British make it a policy to not fly over Tibet, and I can’t think that any other nation that would do so.”
“What are we going to do?”
“They must be looking for us, but even if they have spotted us, they can’t have identified us from so high in the air. In fact, it may be the solution to our getting to Sikkim faster. We’re going to set a trap and capture that plane. Then, I can fly us to our destination. Here is how we’re going to proceed...”
A few minutes later, Milarepa stood alone alongside the bank of the Brahmaputra and was waving in the air, trying to catch the pilot’s attention. She must have succeeded because the planed did a loop, then lost altitude quickly, visibly preparing to land.
The pilot landed safely, not far from where the young girl stood. After the landing, the pilot got out of the plane. His right hand was holding a pistol pointed straight at Milarepa.
The young girl had spent enough time amongst the pirates of Mount Everest to have learned the various signs they used to identify each other, and made a horizontal V with the index and the middle finger of her right hand, across her chest.
Reassured, the pilot lowered his gun and approached her.
“I’m looking for the young westerner and Manjitar’s whelp, although I doubt I’ll find them in these parts,” said the man. “Do you have any information on their whereabouts?”
“I saw the body of a young westerner on the road from Lhasa,” said Milarepa. “I think he was attacked by bandits. He’s unconscious; he may be dead for all I know. It’s just around that bend. Come, I’ll take you.”
The pilot followed Milarepa to a spot where Ardan lay on the ground, motionless.
The pilot sniffed the air.
“Hmm. More likely, he’s drunk from arak. We’ll drag the body to my plane. Help me. Mendax will reward you generously.”
As the pilot was bending over to grab Ardan’s legs, the young man kicked with all his might. The man reeled back and fell to the ground. Ardan leaped on him like a panther. The two men grappled and wrestled for a few minutes, until Ardan was able to grab the gun and shoot the pilot in the shoulder.
With Milarepa’s help, Ardan then tied the man and hid him behind some bushes.
“We don’t want him to raise the alert too soon,” he said. “I certainly don’t want Mendax to chase us with the Astaroth while we’re still in the air.”
Suddenly, they heard gunshots and bullets whizzing by.
CHAPTER XV
Death in the Air!
As more gunshots rang out, Ardan and Milarepa saw two riders rapidly approaching from a nearby valley.
The young man quickly figured that the plane looking for them must have been working in conjunction with bandits on horseback on the ground. When they had seen the pilot land, they had rushed to investigate.
Grabbing Milarepa’s hand, Ardan ran towards the plane. The girl quickly jumped into the back seat while Ardan threw himself into the pilot’s seat.
Milarepa found a rifle stashed under her seat and fired several shots at the approaching riders, to keep them at bay. One of her bullets hit a bandit, who fell to the ground.
The other quickly dismounted and, hiding behind a boulder, took several shots at the plane and its would-be pilot. The young man had to lower his body inside the cockpit to avoid the bullets, making his task more difficult.
A long, drawn out shoot-
out between Milarepa and the bandit was not favorable to the young woman, who was virtually trapped in her seat and unable to move, while her opponent could jump from rock to rock to find a better position.
Milarepa shouted to Ardan to hurry in starting the engine. Fortunately, the young man was not unfamiliar with the plane’s controls and, eventually, he got the motor going.
The plane rolled along the river bank, gaining speed, until it finally took off.
Ardan turned round to tell his companion that they were finally out of trouble but gasped in horror. The bandit had managed to run after them and grab the tail of the plane and jumped on it before it had taken off.
He was now crawling towards the front, a long knife between his teeth. In a matter of minutes, he would reach Milarepa’s seat and kill the young woman!
Ardan shouted a warning. Milarepa turned and saw the man crawling towards her, murder in his eyes. She pointed her rifle but found out that she’d run out of bullets. Grabbing the gun, she decided to use it as a club, but the bandit, who was now within arm’s length, managed to grab it and, using his superior strength, wrested it out of the young woman’s hand and threw it away.
At the risk of destabilizing the plane, Ardan executed several rapid maneuvers in an attempt to cause the attacker to lose his balance. Unfortunately, the bandit had a solid hold and could not be dislodged. He knew that the young pilot could not keep flying like that for long, and as soon as Ardan would stop, he would be able to kill Milarepa.
The young woman was well aware of the danger. Disarmed, there was nothing she could do but wait for the inevitable.
Ardan knew at once what he had to do. Pulling on the stick, he sent the plane flying upward; then, grabbing his gun, he turned around and shot the bandit. He only had time for one shot, and could not afford to miss. But his shot had been true, and the man collapsed and fell through the air.
In the meantime, left without a pilot at the wheel, the plane had started to turn and nosedive. The young man had barely enough time to turn around once more and grab the controls to prevent them from crashing.
Milarepa sighed with relief.
As they flew, following the course of the Brahmaputra, they eventually reached the Teesta river and turned north towards Sikkim. The High Lama of Drepung had told Milarepa to look for her father in Rangpo in East Sikkim, so they flew in that direction.
By the time they reached the area, it was almost night. Despite the growing darkness, Ardan landed the plane skillfully according to Milarepa’s directions, on a sandy stretch near a bamboo grove. They then used branches to hide it.
“We’re not far from Rangpo. I’ll go and inquire about my father. It is better if you stay here and guard the plane. No matter what, I’ll be back at dawn.”
“You’d better, or I’ll have to come looking for you,” replied the young man, smiling, “and who knows what other sacrilegious actions I might commit.”
The next day, Milarepa returned, soon after sunrise—alone.
“My father wasn’t here,” she explained, in a forlorn tone. “No one to whom I talked has seen Prince Manjitar in months. I do not know where else to go.”
“I might have an idea,” said Ardan.
“You? But how?”
“While you were gone, I conducted a thorough search of our plane. And I found several interesting things. First, it turned out that the pilot had been spying for Mendax in Calcutta, and I found his report. In it, he mentions your father. It is, therefore, in that city that we should go looking for him...”
“Ah! That is great news! My family has very influential friends in Calcutta. With their help, we’ll be able to strike back at Mendax.”
“Perhaps not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I found something else inside the plane: twelve bombs of fifty kilograms each of deadly explosive. According to the pilot’s detailed instructions, Mendax is planning to bomb Calcutta if the British authorities do not yield to his blackmail. And they never will!”
“This is awful! What can we do?”
“Once Mendax learns that we have stolen this plane, he may dispatch another one. We have no time to lose! We must turn back and bomb his citadel on Mount Everest!”
“Do we have enough fuel to do it?” asked the young woman.
“I found a spare jerry can. As the bird flies, Mount Everest is just over 100 miles from here. Yes, we should have enough. We can be there in a couple of hours.”
“But what about the return trip?”
“We can’t let this affect our decision, Milarepa,” said Ardan, gravely. “The lives of thousands of innocents are at stake. But you should stay behind, just in case...”
“No, you’re right. I’m ashamed to even have asked the question. I will do my duty and come with you. My father would want me to be brave.”
“Don’t be. You were right to ask. I’m counting on the chaos that will surely follow the destruction of his lair to land someplace safe and either find more fuel, or ride back to Calcutta.”
Having agreed on a course action, the two young people removed all the bamboo that camouflaged the plane, got back into the aircraft and took off.
During his examination, Ardan had found a gyroscopic device that helped the pilot return to its base; it was like a compass pointing towards Mount Everest. The plane also emitted a radio signal that identified it as one of Mendax’s fleet. The young man felt certain that they would be able to approach the mountaintop lair safely in order to drop their deadly cargo.
But for once, Doc Ardan was wrong!
The cunning air pirate changed the radio signal on a daily basis, and when the two young people’s plane approached the fortress, it was immediately identified as hostile!
As they flew a hundred meters above the Citadel, they were greeted by a hail of bullets and had Ardan not been on his guard, their plane would surely have been shot down.
Hails of bullets flew by, fortunately not harming them—or the plane. But they knew it was only a matter of minutes before the Citadel’s defenders adjusted their aim.
Suddenly, Milarepa shouted:
“There! Look! It’s the Astaroth!”
Ardan’s heart sank as he saw Mendax’s deadly multi-purpose dreadnought take to the air. Considering its speed and offensive capabilities, he realized that they stood no chance. Had they come so far only to die a fiery death in the skies?
CHAPTER XVI
Into the Jungle!
The Astaroth began firing.
Fortunately, Ardan was skilled enough as a pilot to avoid the initial salvo. Or perhaps Mendax did not want them dead yet; as long as there was a hope to recapture and ransom his prisoners, the air-pirate might use caution.
Ardan thought long and hard to try to remember if Mendax’s vehicle had any vulnerabilities he might exploit, but could not think of any. Their only chance lie in their plane’s greater maneuverability, but even that was somewhat balanced by the weight of the bombs they carried.
The conclusion was obvious—the decision inevitable!
Ardan swerved in mid-air, looping the plane past the Astaroth and going straight for the Citadel.
Had Mendax guessed the young man’s intentions? Possibly, because suddenly the Astaroth rushed forward, intent on using its greater bulk to ram the smaller plane out of the air, while firing with all its cannons.
Ardan and Milarepa heard the deadly projectiles whizz by, and several of them did hit the plane, but fortunately causing no harm to either its engines or its passengers.
Besides, it was too late!
In a swoop of the plane, Ardan flew over the Citadel of Mount Everest, dropping its entire cargo of deadly explosives.
Suddenly much lighter, the small plane shot up in the air like a rocket, while, below them, Mendax’s lair erupted in a fiery conflagration. Columns of billowing fire rose hundreds of feet into the air.
Now, it was time to escape. Ardan pushed the small plane to the limits of its accelerating power, setting
a course south towards India.
The Astaroth turned in pursuit, continuing to fire, but now Ardan had the advantage of speed.
However, Mendax was not disarmed yet! In fact, the air-pirate still had one more trick in his bag. Obviously thirsty for revenge, he no longer cared about preserving the lives of his former captives.
Suddenly, a beam of almost fluorescent blue light shot out of the Astaroth and hit the back of the plane, which melted or nearly vaporized. Had the deadly beam hit them squarely in the center, Ardan had no doubt they would have died instantaneously!
No second beam followed, which led Ardan to believe that the Astaroth had, at least temporarily, used all of its available power to fire what he thought as a beam of controlled electricity, like the fiery arc that occurs between two charged electrodes.
But the plane was no longer manageable; it was only a matter of minutes before it spiraled down to the ground and crashed.
Feeling between their seats, Ardan and Milarepa found two standard parachutes which they hurriedly put on. Below them was a thick jungle. Had they traveled far enough to reach British India? Only time would tell.
Milarepa had never seen a parachute before, and the notion that one could use such a device to cheat death was new to her. Ardan had to explain to her what to do.
“Have no fear,” he said. “We’ll be safe. Just follow me and do what I do!”
He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Then, he let go and jumped. Milarepa followed him, pulling the cord barely a couple of seconds after the young man.
Mendax had spotted the two parachutes opening and opened fired again; but the Astaroth was too far away and its bullets did no harm.
By the time a few bullets tore into the parachutes, the two young people were already just above the canopy of the jungle.
Ardan was able to land safely amongst the branches of a huge tree, fortunately with only a few scratches but no broken bones.
Since there was no place to land, Mendax had no choice but to turn around and abandon the chase.