the Iron Tiger (v5)

by Jack Higgins

  He turned and jumped into the cab. The truck moved forward and stalled and Amal, seizing his chance, scrambled over the tailboard. Sher Dil managed to reach his knees. He took a grenade from one of his pockets, pulled out the pin and tossed it towards the stacked boxes.

  At that moment, the truck lurched forward. It had moved perhaps ten yards when the centre of the bridge erupted in a cloud of smoke. Pieces of stone girder lifted skywards as a series of violent explosions sounded one after the other and then the entire middle section of the bridge fell in, the truck slipped back into the gaping chasm and disappeared.

  The troop carrier had slewed to a halt on the other side and now its heavy machine gun opened up, firing blindly through the pall of smoke, bullets ripping up earth and stone on the hilltop beside the trucks.

  Brackenhurst was already behind the wheel of Amal's truck, lurching down the road to a chorus of terrified screaming from the women and children in the back.

  There was no time to talk. Hamid scrambled up behind Father Kerrigan and drove away quickly and Drummond and Ahmed followed in the supply truck. For a heart-stopping moment, bullets ripped through the canvas hood and then they were over the hill.

  Ten minutes later, Hamid sounded his horn, Brackenhurst slowed, turning in to the side of the road and Ahmed and Drummond pulled in ahead of him.

  Drummond jumped down to join the Pathan and Brackenhurst stumbled towards them, his eyes wild. 'What do we do now, for Christ's sake?'

  Hamid ignored him and held up Sher Dil's map. 'He left this in the cab, that's one good thing.' They leaned over it and he nodded. 'I thought so. There's another village fifteen miles further on and the border, fifty miles beyond that.'

  'One thing's certain,' Drummond said. 'Cheung can't hope to catch us now.'

  Hamid nodded. 'As long as there's no one waiting at the next village we should be all right.'

  'What about ditching a couple of the trucks?'

  Hamid shook his head. 'If anything went wrong with the truck we were travelling in, we really would be in trouble. Another thing - three trucks give us more of a show of strength than one. That could be useful if we run into any small patrols.'

  'What about the women?' Brackenhurst demanded. 'Don't you think it's time we left them?'

  'For the Chinese to get their hands on? Even for you, that isn't such a sparkling idea. Get back to your truck and take up third position.'

  The contempt in Hamid's voice was obvious to them all. Brackenhurst turned as if he had been struck and stumbled away.

  'For heaven's sake, Major,' Father Kerrigan said, leaning out of the cab of Hamid's truck. 'The man's at the end of his tether, can't you see that?'

  'Which means he's got to be driven, Father. It's the only way, I'm afraid.' Hamid turned to Drummond. 'You and Ahmed take the lead in the supply truck, Jack, and I'll follow. If you do run into trouble, try to block the road with your truck. That'll give the rest of us a chance to turn round. If you run fast enough, you should be in time for a lift.'

  'I hope so,' Drummond said.

  He went round the front of Hamid's truck and waved to Janet. She waved back and so did the boy, the first real sign of life Drummond had noticed from him.

  He climbed up beside Ahmed and they drove away. The mist had lifted even more which wasn't too healthy and the rain sluiced down relentlessly. It was bitterly cold and there was a bad taste in his mouth. He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and leaned back in the seat watching the road, a sub-machine gun in his lap.

  They had been driving for no more than twenty minutes when Hamid sounded his horn a couple of times. Ahmed turned in to the side of the road and Hamid pulled in ahead.

  He jumped down and came to meet them. 'Brackenhurst doesn't seem to be following.'

  'I wonder what the stupid bastard's up to now?' Drummond said.

  'As far as I'm concerned, I'd leave him to stew, but we've the women to think of.'

  Drummond nodded. 'You wait here. We'll run back in the supply truck. It's always possible that he's just broken down. I can't understand how the things have kept going this long.'

  Ahmed reversed and drove back along the road. Within five minutes they saw the truck parked at the edge, the women and Brackenhurst standing beside it.

  He drove past, turned in a tight circle and parked a few yards away. Drummond jumped down and walked back. Brackenhurst was smiling nervously, relief on his face.

  'Thank God you came. I knew you would.'

  'What happened?' Drummond asked.

  'It's the brakes. They're hydraulic on this truck. They've stopped working. There must be a leak.'

  'That's all we needed.'

  'We'll have to leave the women now,' Brackenhurst said.

  'Take a look underneath, Ahmed,' Drummond said and he climbed into the cab of Brackenhurst's truck.

  He pumped the brake pedal up and down several times, but there was no answering pressure. At that moment, Ahmed called to him. He jumped down, pushed his way through the women who had crowded silently around and crawled under the truck.

  'See, sahib,' Ahmed said grimly. 'The pipe has been deliberately fractured.'

  As Drummond started to examine it, the engine of the supply truck burst into life. He scrambled out frantically, but he was too late. As he shoved the women out of the way, Brackenhurst accelerated. For a little while there was the sound of the engine and then that too died away and there was silence.

  Ahmed moved to his side. 'I think there must be a special place in hell reserved for Mr. Brackenhurst. What do we do now, sahib?'

  'Go after him, what else can we do?'

  'Without brakes, sahib?'

  'It wouldn't be the first time. I'll take the wheel.'

  He turned wearily to the women as a small child started to cry. Its mother hushed it and there was silence again as they waited, stolid and patient.

  'Get in!' he said. 'Go on, all of you! Get back in!'

  God knows what Brackenhurst would do when he reached Hamid and the others, probably keep right on going. And there was no means of knowing what Hamid might do. Best to try and catch up with him as soon as possible. They could unload the ammunition and transfer the women. If he drove carefully and used the gears, he could manage without the foot brake.

  He climbed behind the wheel, eased off the handbrake and took the truck slowly forward. After a while, he gained more confidence, moved into top gear and put on speed. Within five minutes he reached the place where he and Hamid had stopped and rolled slowly to a halt. He could see the tyre marks at the side of the road, and an oil splash, but that was all.

  Which wasn't good and he took the truck forward again grimly. There was hail mixed in with the rain now, building up against the windscreen and the wipers were having difficulty in handling it. After half an hour, the road started to slope down.

  He changed to a low gear and proceeded more cautiously. The valley widened until it stretched away into the rain for about half a mile, lifting into the mountains that could be seen dimly on his left. The road dropped even more abruptly and peering through the misty windscreen, he saw a small bridge.

  He crawled the rest of the way down the hill in bottom gear. The bridge consisted of a flat surface of planks crossing what would otherwise have been a deep ford. There was still no sign of either of the other trucks and he drove across and kept on moving.

  The road started to lift steeply, hugging the side of the mountain which now towered above his head and he began to sweat a little. The truck churned steadily upwards through the mud, Drummond gripping the wheel tightly, an expression of utter concentration on his face. He rounded a curve and came to the crest of a hill and the road dropped steeply into the valley below. He leaned across quickly and looked out. There was no fence, only the crumbling, rain-soaked edge and two hundred feet of steeply sloping mountainside.

  The truck began the descent, skidding occasionally with a sickening lurch. Drummond was trembling, and beside him Ahmed's face was wet with s
weat. The truck lurched again as he negotiated a corner and then the wheels skidded on the shaky surface and slid forward for about fifteen yards. He turned into a skid and then out of it, and by a miracle regained control.

  The sweat soaked through his shirt, ran from his forehead into his eyes and he took the truck forward again, hail rattling against the windscreen in a flurry of wind.

  The road curved around a great outcrop of black rock and he followed it, hugging the side, turning the corner to where an apron of brown and white water flooded the road, rushing down from the mountain above and cascading into space.

  As he started across, the front wheels dipped and the surface of the road dissolved beneath him, washed out in a great sliding scoop, and the truck slewed towards the edge.

  For a moment, it seemed to halt and Drummond tugged frantically at the handbrake, but it was not enough. The truck lurched and one of the front wheels dipped over the edge.

  'Jump for it!' he cried to Ahmed.

  He got the door open and went out head first, landing on his hands and knees, slipping in the thick mud as the truck slid past him and went over the edge.

  It hung there for a split second, and Ahmed, whose door had jammed, got it open a second too late. The truck went over with a chorus of screams from the wretches imprisoned inside. There were three terrible, metal-wrenching crashes as it bounced its way down the valley, a brief moment of silence and then a tremendous explosion.

  Drummond moved cautiously to the side and looked down at the bright, orange tongue of flames and turned away, his body heaving in a great, uncontrollable spasm that emptied his stomach.

  He leaned against the rock for a while and then scrambled across the washed out portion of the road and walked on into the rain.

  For half a mile the road dropped steeply into the valley and he caught a brief glimpse of the river, winding through the mist below. The rain became colder and darkness started to fall.

  There was only one way to go, though God knew where it would take him. He wasn't even armed. His sub-machine gun had gone over the edge with the truck.

  Something brushed his face. He raised a gloved hand and saw that it was covered with large melting snowflakes. He looked up and all around him, snow fell intermingled with the rain.

  From further along the road came the rattle of small arms fire and he paused for a moment, the snow gently covering him. Who was it? Hamid or Brackenhurst? But there was no means of knowing and he started to walk again.

  Darkness increased and the snow gradually took the place of the rain until it was falling all about him, covering the muddy road with a white mantle. Again there came the rattle of small arms fire, much nearer this time.

  The situation was beginning to look desperate. If he stayed on the road, he was bound to run into trouble sooner or later to judge from the sound of that firing. Without shelter, he would freeze to death on a night like this.

  Trees had now begun to cover the valley bottom and he moved into their shelter and stumbled along, parallel with the road, his gloved hands tucked into his armpits against the intense cold.

  Somewhere up the road, there was the clatter of a hoof against stone, and a horse snickered softly. Drummond dropped behind a tree and waited.

  There was a soft drubbing of hooves muffled by snow and half a dozen horsemen cantered by. They wore the typical rough sheepskin coat of the hillmen, but the red stars in the peaked caps, the Burp guns slung across their backs, told him what they were.

  'What do I do now?' he said softly as the hoofbeats faded into the night.

  There was a quiet chuckle almost in his ear and Ali Hamid said, 'Exactly what I was wondering.'

  12

  The Long Night

  'WHEN I first heard you coming, I thought it meant trouble. I was about to become most unpleasant.' Hamid smiled, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. 'A good thing those soldiers rode by. The moment you took cover, I knew you were on the right side.'

  It was impossible to see his face in the darkness and Drummond reached out to touch him in sheer relief. 'Ali, you old bastard. What happened?'

  'You tell me. We were waiting for you to come back with news of Brackenhurst and you went by as if half the Chinese Army was on your tail.'

  'That was Brackenhurst, not me,' Drummond said and explained quickly what had happened, including the loss of the truck.

  There was a moment's silence when he finished and Hamid said softly, 'There was heavy firing up ahead, I think he may have paid the price already, Jack.'

  'He couldn't,' Drummond said flatly. 'It's too heavy.'

  'Perhaps, but since Sadar, I don't think he's really been responsible for his actions.'

  'Where's the truck?'

  'About fifty yards back in the woods. I decided to leave the road when we heard the firing up ahead. We obviously weren't going to get any further. I came back to make sure that the snow covered our tracks.'

  'Judging by the soldiers, the next village is obviously in Chinese hands. What are we going to do?'

  'I haven't the slightest idea. We'll discuss it in more comfortable surroundings. At least we should be safe here for the night.'

  Drummond stumbled after him through the darkness and the truck loomed out of the night. 'Not exactly the Savoy,' Hamid said, 'but better than a snowdrift on a night like this. Careful, there are boxes all over the place. I dumped half the load.'

  The canvas curtain at the back of the truck moved slightly, showing a chink of light and Father Kerrigan said softly, 'Major Hamid?'

  'And guest,' Hamid said. 'The wanderer returns.'

  Drummond followed him over the tailboard. He dropped the canvas curtain back into place and turned. As Hamid had said, half the vehicle's load had gone and the remaining boxes had been stacked so as to create a small enclosed alcove. An oil stove was set on a box in the centre throwing out life-giving warmth as well as a dim light.

  Father Kerrigan murmured something, a hand on his shoulder, but Drummond had eyes only for Janet kneeling on the other side of the cooker next to the young Khan.

  'Jack,' she said in a whisper. 'Jack?'

  He moved close, dropped on one knee and took her hand. There were no words, none that would say the things he wanted to say and he touched it to his lips briefly.

  'What happened?'

  He told his story again in a few brief sentences. When he finished, there were tears in her eyes. 'Those women, those poor women and children. And Ahmed.'

  'There was nothing I could do,' he said. 'Nothing.'

  'I thought we'd never get round that mountain ourselves,' Hamid said.

  In the silence that followed, Janet seemed to pull herself together and put the kettle on the stove. Father Kerrigan said slowly, 'Then the shooting we heard earlier? That must have been Brackenhurst?'

  Hamid nodded. 'There were Chinese on horseback up on the road. That means they must be in the next village.'

  'Are we safe here?'

  'For tonight.'

  'And in the morning?'

  Hamid shrugged. 'I don't honestly know. Even if we could get the truck out of here again, which I doubt, there's nowhere to go. We'd never get through the village and we all know who's coming up behind.' He held out his hands to the stove. 'We've got shelter, food and warmth and that's a lot under the circumstances.'

  'Beans,' Janet said. 'Beans and tea.'

  'Sufficient unto the day, isn't that what the Bible says?'

  She poured tea into two tin mugs and passed them to Hamid and Drummond. 'Those are all we've got. We'll have to share.'

  Drummond took off his mittens and wrapped his frozen hands around the mug, conscious of the warmth and from the shadows opposite, Kerim watched him solemnly, swathed in blankets.

  He smiled, showing even white teeth and Drummond smiled back at him. 'He's beginning to liven up.'

  Father Kerrigan nodded. 'The natural resilience of the young, I suppose.'

  Drummond sat there, staring into the fire, remembering many thi
ngs. The city burning, the old Khan's eyes blazing into his as he exacted that final promise, Cheung's pale, handsome face. Strange how things turned out. They'd been very good friends, really. And what happened now?

  He emptied the mug and passed it to Janet. 'Where's the map?'

  Hamid produced it from a pocket of his parka. 'Any ideas?'

  'Not at the moment. How far are we from the village?'

  'Here.' Hamid pointed as Drummond spread the map on the floor. 'Perhaps five miles. It's called Chamdo. The border's about fifty miles on the other side.'

  Drummond examined the map carefully and frowned. 'Where does this track go to running over the mountain from the village? There's a place up on top on the plateau. Ladong Gompa.'

  'Ladong Gompa?' Father Kerrigan put in. 'But that's a monastery, a Buddhist monastery. There's a shrine in the next valley, very famous in the old days. Pilgrims used to cross over the mountain and stay overnight at the monastery. I believe that's why it was built in the first place. The old Khan told me about it once.'

  Hamid examined the map and shook his head. 'That's eight or nine thousand feet up, Jack, and the snow starting. Father Kerrigan and Janet could never get across.'

  'But you could with the boy,' the priest said.

  Drummond cut in quickly. 'We all could if we had horses.'

  'Horses?' Hamid said with a frown. 'And where are we going to get horses?'

  'As you said, the village is only five miles along the road. If we slipped in just before dawn, we shouldn't have too much trouble.'

  'All of us?' Hamid said.

  Drummond shook his head. 'Just you and I. The others can wait for us here. When we come back with the horses, we can cut up across the shoulder of the mountain and join the track above the village.'

  'If we come back with the horses.'

  'At least it gives us a chance.' Drummond shrugged. 'Can you think of anything better?'