Then Nellie had brushed away the gloved hand. ‘How dare you?’ she had cried. ‘How dare you?’
Major Lin had laughed coldly, bowed, and unhurriedly gone on his way. Helen Frances closed her eyes. The doctor could see a tear glistening in her eyelashes, then she had flung back her shoulders, and rather fiercely returned to the bandaging of the wounded soldier’s leg.
‘Are you all right, Helen Frances?’ Nellie had asked her—and she had nodded, but tears were running freely down her cheeks.
It had been at that moment that the awful truth had dawned on Airton, and he cursed himself for not having realised it earlier. He remembered her reaction in the brothel when Major Lin had stepped into the lamplight of the corridor on the night of their escape. The palpable fear she had displayed. He had had to sedate her. Of course. Major Lin had been one of her attackers. There could be no other explanation. And Manners had witnessed it—but he had not mentioned it. That could only mean one thing. Airton would not have credited it, had he not already known so much else about the man, and the depths of his perfidy. The treacherous, treacherous monster. It had not only been an arrangement with the Mandarin that had gone terribly wrong. Manners must have arranged the ensuing rape. He had made another bargain with Major Lin, to protect his own hide, or for some other cynical reason Airton could not yet comprehend, and had even gone to the lengths of having himself bound so that he would escape implication. For all their apparent animosity, Manners and Lin had been in league all along. For a moment his hand with the scalpel had shaken, as the enormity of it all hit him, and Fan Yimei had looked at him with curiosity and concern. His professional instincts had taken over, of course, and he had continued with the operation, but the unspeakable horror of his realisation remained. Poor girl. She probably didn’t even yet know how she had been betrayed by the very man she thought she loved. He had to save her from herself, whatever it took.
So now, in the relative quiet, with Nellie asleep, he held her hands and told her what he knew of Manners. At first she would not listen. ‘Henry,’ she moaned. ‘I want to see Henry.’ And he told her that she was wrong to put her trust in such a man. She shook her head. ‘No, he loves me,’ she murmured. ‘He loves me.’
‘He loves nobody,’ said the doctor. And he told her about the treason in which Manners was involved, the conversation with the Mandarin that he had overheard in the Black Hills. About the guns Manners was selling, on behalf of another power. He told her that a man who would betray his country would betray anyone and anything. The man was a criminal and a traitor.
‘But he saved us. He saved us,’ she moaned.
‘He used us,’ said the doctor, his voice rising. ‘For his own advantage. He prostituted you.’
‘I know,’ she cried, ‘I know, but nothing happened. It was a game. The Mandarin was honourable.’ She shook her head in her confusion.
‘A game?’ hissed the doctor. ‘He arranged your rape by Major Lin. Your rape, Helen Frances. Your rape.’
And she had shaken her head violently from side to side, whispering, ‘No. No. No.’
But the doctor was relentless, relating all the circumstantial evidence, explaining Manners’s foul motives, the extent of his deceit and treachery. She had to understand. She had to understand, he told himself through his tiredness. She had begun to whimper. He knew that the children had stopped their game and the others in the carriage must be staring at them. He felt the silence behind him, but he persisted, repeating the details of the brute’s perfidy, explaining again and again the man’s crimes. ‘He does not love you,’ he told her. ‘He does not love you. He never loved you. Don’t you see that, girl?’
And Helen Frances had screamed, through her tears, ‘But he does. He does. He told me,’ and he had to twist her wrist to calm her hysterics, and his own eyes blazed as he stared into her eyes, forcing her to accept the truth.
‘But he lied, my dear. He lied!’
After a while she began to weep softly, and he put his arms around her and rocked her gently. ‘I’m going to sedate you now,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘And don’t you worry. I’ll be here to look after you. You need never see that man again,’ he said. And she nodded, as she bared her arm, and let Dr Airton administer the syringe. ‘Sleep now,’ he said.
‘What was all that commotion?’ asked Nellie, yawning, as she woke from her sleep.
‘Nothing, dear,’ he answered. ‘Get back to your rest. I was just giving Helen Frances a dose of morphine to calm her down. She had a little fit.’
‘Is that wise?’ asked Nellie. ‘She was doing so well.’
‘I think it’s for the best,’ said the doctor, slumping heavily into one of the armchairs. ‘I think it’s for the best.’
* * *
Henry’s original intention had been to make his move at the depot by the tunnel where they halted—but Major Lin had been particularly vigilant, positioning his soldiers in a circle round the engine. The ostensible reason was that they were watching out for any of Iron Man Wang’s bandits who might still be located in the Black Hills, but Henry noticed that the soldiers were facing inwards, with their weapons directed at him. Even so, if it had been only the soldiers who had got off the train, he might have risked starting the engine in the hope that it would have disappeared into the tunnel before they could try to clamber back aboard—but the Mandarin chose to get off too, as did Dr Airton and his children, to stretch their legs and take a breath of fresh air, although the atmosphere was dank among these gloomy precipices and peaks. So Henry and the young soldier had got on and replenished the water in the tender, while Lao Zhao had used the opportunity of the rest stop to feed and water the horses in the wagons.
The Mandarin had made a brief visit to the front of the train and congratulated Henry on their escape from the railway camp. ‘You did well, Ma Na Si. I am indebted to you,’ he said. ‘I will miss your company when we have contracted our piece of business.’ Henry would have liked to warn him of what Lao Zhao had overheard, but he had no opportunity because Jin Lao remained assiduously by the Mandarin’s elbow.
He heard a brief altercation between the doctor and Major Lin, and was surprised when, a moment later, the doctor, protesting, was escorted by two soldiers to the engine and told to climb the footplates.
‘Don’t think this is any of my wishing,’ muttered Airton irritably, in answer to Henry’s raised eyebrow of enquiry. ‘The prospect of any proximity with you fills me with disgust. But your friend Major Lin seems to think you need my help up here. God knows why. He doesn’t seem to appreciate that I have wounded men of his under my care.’
Henry exchanged a glance with Lao Zhao, who spat over the side of the cab.
‘Seems they’re clearing any unwanted mules out of the stables,’ he muttered significantly.
‘Now what is that supposed to mean?’ snapped the doctor.
‘Nothing,’ said Henry. ‘If you’re really interested in helping, I’ll show you what you have to do.’
When everyone was aboard again, he ejected steam from the cylinder cocks, then set the reverser and pulled the regulator. The wheels turned. He pulled the cord as they entered the tunnel, letting out a long whistle, which was swallowed by the roar of the train as they rattled and thumped into the darkness.
Five minutes later they burst into light again—but it was a green gloom compared to the blazing sunlight of the Shishan valley, which they had left behind them. Here, in the midst of the Black Hills forests, dark firs formed an arch over their heads from the high banks on either side, and occasionally the space around them would narrow further as the track wound between high grey cliffs. Henry leaned out of the cab, peering at the track ahead through the unnatural twilight.
‘Had we not better do something soon?’ shouted Lao Zhao, over the clatter that the train was making over the sleepers. ‘If I was planning something wicked, this is just the sort of evil spot I might choose. And so might they.’
Henry was peering ahead. The train clattered on. His mind was racing. He could make up any excuse to stop the train, but a suspicious Lin would surely have taken precautions as he had at the depot. He realised now that his plan depended on one forlorn hope. Almost like a talisman, he clung to the memory of a conversation he had once had with Mr Bowers, who had complained to him that fallen trees were always a hazard on this stretch of line. Bowers had urged him to persuade Herr Fischer to send a team to cut away the forest on either side of the track. He had promised to pass on the message to Herr Fischer and, of course, he had not bothered, so nothing had been done about it. Six weeks had passed since anyone had used or inspected this piece of line.
‘Doctor,’ he drawled, ‘you’re a man of prayer. If you want to help, pray now for a fallen tree.’
‘Now it’s you who are talking nonsense,’ said Airton. ‘Or are you both mocking me?’
The train curled round the windy track. Ahead was an overhang that Henry thought looked promising, but not even a branch had fallen down the bank. Lao Zhao jumped down from the tender on to the plate. Neither Henry nor the doctor had noticed him leave, and he was now breathless on his return. ‘I climbed back to look into the Mandarin’s compartment. The three of them are in there. Lin, Jin and the Mandarin, and they appear to be arguing. It is as we thought,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘You probably have little time.’
‘I need a bloody tree,’ snapped Henry.
‘Are you two plotting something?’ Airton asked angrily. ‘You are, aren’t you? You’re plotting with Major Lin against the Mandarin. I know it.’
‘Thank God,’ sighed Henry. ‘Hold on!’ He pulled the handle to apply the air brakes, closing the regulator as he did so. The wheels locked hard, and there was a fearful jolt as the train skidded along the tracks—but after a moment it shuddered to a halt, the steel wheels screaming against the resisting rails, causing sparks to fountain almost as high as the cab. Lao Zhao turned the wheel of the tender brake. The wagons clattered and thumped behind them. The whole train concertinaed to a halt. The doctor and the soldier on the tender had fallen backwards, and it had taken all of Henry and Lao Zhao’s strength to remain on their feet. He could only imagine the chaos in the compartments. He glanced forward round the cab. The cow-catcher in front had stopped feet away from the trunk of a small fir tree.
‘Yes, Doctor, I’m afraid that we are plotting something,’ said Henry, lifting Airton to his feet and twisting him round, ‘and I’ll thank you now to remain very silent. Oh, and by the way, that prickle you feel against your back is my revolver aiming at your liver. So please don’t try to be heroic and do something you may later regret. It may not look it but I’m on the side of the angels.’
As he finished, a furious Major Lin climbed up the ladder. He was pointing his pistol at Henry’s head. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he was shouting.
‘Look ahead of you, Major,’ said Henry calmly, while keeping his own revolver, obscured under the sling in which he rested his wounded arm, firmly pressed against the doctor’s back. ‘Do you see that tree on the line? Don’t you think you should order some of your men off the train to remove it? It’s not a big tree so maybe four or five would be adequate to lift it.’
Lin leaned out of the cab to look. ‘Ta made!’ he swore, and jumped down to give the necessary orders.
‘Have you lost your senses?’ hissed Airton. ‘What are you trying to do?’
‘To save our lives, if you’ll believe it,’ Henry replied, watching as a detachment of five men led by Major Lin ran forward past the cab. He glanced up at the young soldier on the tender who was leaning over the side enjoying the spectacle. Lao Zhao had disappeared.
‘Major,’ he called, ‘I’m going to reverse the train a little to give your boys room to move.’
‘Stay where you are,’ shouted Lin.
But Henry had already released the tender brake, pulled the reverser and pushed the throttle, and the train slowly clanked backwards. It had gone about forty yards before a panting Major Lin caught up, pulling himself up the ladder. His face was twisted with anger. ‘Halt this train immediately,’ he shouted, pointing his gun.
‘Whatever you say, Major,’ said Henry. He pulled back the regulator stick and pushed the reverser, and the train came gently to a standstill.
Major Lin leaned backwards, still keeping his pistol trained on Henry, and looked down the track to where his men were straining with the tree.
‘How are they doing, Major?’ Henry asked politely. ‘Do they need any help?’
Major Lin glared at him. The doctor felt his heart pounding as the moments ticked by.
‘Get back here. Immediately,’ shouted Lin to his men, when the tree had been pushed aside.
As he spoke, Henry rammed the throttle to its full stretch, pressing the lever as he did so to spread sand on the track and give the wheels extra traction. With a jolt the engine moved forward. Major Lin’s pistol wavered as he swung backwards, unbalanced, struggling to keep his feet from sliding off the edge of the plate. Henry pushed the doctor aside. He pulled the hand that held the revolver out of the sling and fired. Major Lin’s eyes registered his surprise. A choking sound came from his throat, and involuntarily he took his hand from the railing to clutch his wounded shoulder. For a moment he swayed on the edge of the footplate, looking in amazement at the red that stained his palm. Henry fired again, and missed, for as he did so Major Lin, his eyes wild with hatred, threw himself off, landing on his back on the bank, and there he lay, winded, as the carriages rattled past.
Henry turned towards the young soldier on the tender, who had scrambled to his feet. He was fumbling with his rifle. ‘Don’t even think it,’ shouted Henry, but the boy was already raising his rifle, his scared eyes pleading. Henry fired, and the boy fell backwards on to the coals. His legs twitched and he was still. The unfired rifle clattered on to the footplate.
‘Oh how could you?’ wailed Airton, kneeling impotently on the footplate.
‘Keep your head down,’ shouted Henry, dropping to his own knees. Bullets clanged on the roof of the cab as they trundled past the men who had been moving the tree. Henry heard a thump and a scrambling sound. One of the men had grabbed the steps as the moving engine steamed past. He reached for the fireman’s spade, and smashed it down on the head that emerged above the plate. The soldier fell backwards with a scream.
Panting, the bloody spade in his hand, he looked down at Airton who was sitting helplessly, shaking his head. ‘What have you done?’ he moaned. ‘What do you think you can achieve by this? You know that the last compartment is full of soldiers.’
‘Lao Zhao uncoupled it,’ panted Henry. ‘That’s what he went off to do. The only enemy we have left on board is Jin Lao.’
‘Jin Lao?’ exclaimed the doctor. ‘He’s an old man.’
‘A murderous old man. Look, Doctor, I’ll explain everything later, but I must go back to the Mandarin’s carriage now. I can’t stop the train. We need to get a distance between Lin and his men. That means you’ll have to drive it.’
‘You must be mad. I don’t know how to drive a train. Anyway, I won’t,’ said the doctor. ‘I don’t trust you. You’re going to go and kill the Mandarin as you killed all these others.’
Henry ignored him. He was spading coal into the firebox. ‘That should be enough,’ he said. ‘Look, it’s simple. See this big lever? It’s the regulator or throttle. It controls the speed of the train. The further you push it the faster you go. You have to use some strength but you’ll manage. Don’t go too fast with all these bends. That three-quarters mark is about as far as you’d want to push it in these conditions. That’s the reverser. Another lever. It controls the direction of the connecting rods. It decides whether the engine goes forwards or backwards. You see? It’s easy. Push, forwards. Pull, backwards. Anyone can do it. This is the lever for the air brake in case you have to use it. Stop the train if you
see any more fallen trees on the line. That’s it. Oh, yes, and this is the cord for the whistle. Pull it if you need me. Now you know as much about driving a train as I do.’
‘I wasn’t listening to a word you said,’ said the doctor. ‘I refuse to cooperate.’
‘Please yourself,’ said Henry, ‘but I have to go.’
He picked up the fallen rifle and climbed on to the tender. He turned. Airton was still sitting disconsolately on the shaking footplate.
‘Look, Doctor, trust me. Please trust me. I’m doing this for all of us.’
‘You’re a murderer,’ shouted Airton, his face red with anger.
Henry sighed. Quickly he climbed down the back of the tender, and stood for a moment above the swaying coupling, choosing his moment to step across to the back of the wagon ahead, which held the horses. He climbed up the ladder, and at a swaying run, traversed the roof of the wagon, choosing his moment again to jump onto the roof of the next wagon, which also contained horses. He could hear them moving and snuffling below him. He ran on. When he reached the further end, he climbed down. The next carriage was the Mandarin’s. He crossed over to the small balcony at the rear, pressing himself against the wall as he checked the magazine and released the safety-catch of the rifle. Taking a deep breath, he turned the door handle, and threw himself into the compartment.
The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure Page 72