Collection 1986 - Night Over The Solomons (v5.0)

by Louis L'Amour

  The other guard’s rifle swung up, and even as it lifted, Turk swung the rifle he held and fired from the hip. The guard’s rifle clattered on the floor, he clutched wildly at his stomach, and pitched over on the stone floor.

  “Thank you!” Bo Hau said brightly. “Now my people will come…thousands of them!”

  Somewhere a gong clanged with huge, hammering blows, and the great Domed House was filled with a clamor of voices mingling with the roar of the gong and running feet!

  “Run!” Turk roared at Shan Bao. “Back the way we came!”

  Darting down the long hall, they rounded the turn to see a guard looming in the way. Turk’s rifle bellowed and the guard went down screaming. From behind them there was a shout, then a shot. The bullet ricocheted from the wall. When they reached the garden, still bright and glorious in the glow of the young moon, Turk stopped. “Take them, Shan!” he said. “Make it quick!”

  For an instant, the Manchu hesitated, and Raemy’s lips started to form a protest, then they were moving.

  Madden walked back and picked up a rifle by the wall where the guard was bound, and with it his ammunition belt. Then he retreated to the rocks on the far side of the pool. Kneeling behind the rocks, he waited.

  His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding, but he tried to calm himself. The gate burst open suddenly, and men poured through it. Resting the rifle stock against his cheek, Turk began to squeeze off his shots. Once—twice—three times!

  Each time a man fell, and the attack broke and split to either side among the shrubbery. Another man showed in the doorway, and Turk fired again. The man crumpled and fell. He shifted his position and studied the shrubbery. A slight movement warned him, but he waited. Suddenly a man lunged from the nearest bush, a huge knife in his hand. With a scream, he hurled himself at Turk’s breastwork!

  The rifle barked again, and knocked back by the force of the heavy bullet, the Ngolok toppled into the pool. In the breathing space, Turk reloaded the rifle. Then, carefully, he eased back into the shadows.

  Shan would be leading them up the steep climb again by now. He moved back, felt a rock wall, and then a low voice, Ryan’s, came to him. “Turk?”

  “Yeah!”

  “That Chinese gal showed us a new way out. Old steps in the cliff, used years ago. I waited to guide you. They comin’ after us yet?”

  “In a couple of minutes. I got a few of them, scared ’em a little. Let’s go!”

  Sparrow Ryan led the way, and they hurried up the steep steps as behind them there was a flurry of movement. Far up the stair Turk heard a stone rattle.

  Suddenly, torches were burning behind them, and they could hear shouts and yells as the searching party scrambled through the dark crevasse. Ryan rushed on ahead. Turk turned at a small landing and glanced back. He could see the bobbing torches. Coolly and with care he began to fire.

  A torch toppled and a scream lifted. Again and again he fired until the rifle was empty, and then he coolly reloaded and emptied it once more. Then he turned away.

  * * *

  A SHADOW MOVED, then the huge, greasy body of one of the mallet holders who had stood by the bell loomed from the shadows. How he got there, Turk could only guess. By some secret stair, no doubt, that opened upon this same landing.

  The man was a veritable giant, stripped to the waist with his massive muscles gleaming in the light of the moon. Turk’s tongue touched his lips, and he circled warily as the man crouched and came toward him. Accustomed too long to fighting with his hands, he forgot his pistol, forgot everything but the huge man who moved toward him, catlike on his huge sandal-clad feet.

  Suddenly, the Ngolok lunged. Turk’s left fist splatted against his lips, and Madden felt the give of the big man’s teeth, but then the fellow had his hands on him, and they slipped around his body, wrapping him in python or like grip!

  Turk’s head jerked forward and smashed into the Ngolok’s face, but then the big men jerked his head aside and began to crush with powerful arms. Turk’s left hand was bound to his side by the encircling arms but with his right he hooked short and hard to the ear, then struck down on the kidney with the edge of his hand. The Ngolok grunted, but heaved harder with his powerful arms. Agonizing pain shot through Turk, and he struggled wildly to get loose, then his right lifted and he dug his thumb into the big man’s mouth, keeping it between his cheek and the side of his teeth. Digging all four fingers into the flesh behind the giant’s ear and jawbone, he jerked back with all his strength!

  The Ngolok screamed hoarsely as his cheek ripped under the tearing thumb, and his grip relaxed. As it did, Turk lifted his knee and stomped down on the huge sandal-clad foot with all his strength. With a roar of pain, the big man let go, and Turk sprang back, staggered, and then setting himself, swung a right hand that had the works on it. The punch caught the huge man off balance and he toppled back, hit the crumbling stone parapet, and went over in a shower of falling stones, his screams echoing upward through the vast chimney where they had climbed.

  His back stiff with pain, Turk started on up the stair, his lungs gasping for air, his brain wild with fear of what lay behind. Somehow he reached the top and found Ryan crouching there, awaiting him.

  The air on the high plateau was crisp and cold, and he gasped great draughts into his tortured lungs. Then he turned and they stumbled away into the darkness together.

  * * *

  SEVERAL MINUTES MORE and they came up with the rest of the party. Young walked a step behind Bekart, his eyes never wavering from the former pursuit pilot’s back. Raemy’s face was drawn and pale. Turk caught up with her, and she noted his torn shirt and a dark stain of blood on his cheek where the Ngolok’s clawing hand had torn the flesh like a claw. “You’re hurt!”

  “No, and we’ve got to keep going,” he said. “Can you make it?”

  “I think so.”

  Turk’s eyes strayed to the Chinese girl. She was walking along, patiently, quietly. He knew the look. He had seen it in the faces of Chinese infantrymen long ago. They would walk until they dropped.

  Scotty met them in the hills with a half dozen armed men. He grinned at Turk, then looked quickly at Doone. “You all right?”

  Bob Doone was walking beside his sister. He looked up and grinned. He was very thin, but his eyes were very bright. “Sure!” he said. “Who could be better?”

  A silent group met in the big room where the Goose waited, resting easily on the dark water. Young, Scotty, Doone, Ryan, and Kalinov gathered around Turk. He was brief and to the point.

  “We’ve got to move out—now! They’ll be down here, and we haven’t weapons enough to fight them off. Scotty, I’d say you and Kalinov should move out right away, keep to the low country and get as much distance between you and this bunch as you can. It’ll be rough going, but you’ll have to do it.

  “Travel light. We haven’t much in the way of supplies, but we’ll rustle some more and bring them to you, supply you by air.

  “Don’t fight unless you have to, but keep your riflemen to the rear.”

  Madden watched them go, scowling thoughtfully. He was worried by Bo Hau’s lack of opposition to the escape from the Domed House. The man had the look of a plotter, a conniver as well as a man of action. Turk doubted that they would get away so easily.

  The Grumman had brought more supplies than needed, and a few things were carried by the walking party, which made the plane somewhat lighter. There remained Young, Doone, Ryan, Shan, Bekart, and the two girls. It was still a heavy load. Madden had his own plans, intending to fly the fighter. From what he originally learned, there was still another fighter and two transports somewhere around the valley.

  The transports, even if armed, did not worry him. The fighter was another thing.

  Bob Doone had avoided Bekart, and he avoided him now as he walked over to where Turk Madden, his thumbs tucked behind his belt, was staring bleakly at the grim hills. The gray clouds had lowered themselves over the peaks now, and the massive grandeur of A
mne Machin was shut out.

  “Ryan tells me you came for my cargo, too?” Bob suggested.

  Turk nodded. “And the sooner we get it and get moving, the better.”

  “All right. When you’re ready, I’ll take you to it. I hid it myself.”

  “Sparrow, you come with us. Shan, get the ship warmed up. Young, if you will, warm up the fighter for me. I’m flying it.” He glanced at the Manchu. “And keep an eye on Bekart. He’s got something on his mind!”

  Turk checked his Colt, and then the three turned and walked from the ancient temple. The wind outside was raw and chill. Bob Doone led off and they started up the street, over the tumbled walls and broken stones. When they were halfway up the hill they stopped and looked back. White caps dotted the lake’s black water, and the hills were a sullen gray and black, streaked here and there in cracks and crevices with the white of snow.

  On the far side of a plateau a path led downward. “Found it by accident,” Doone said. “Came down here, couldn’t carry the box very far. Before we crashed I’d seen those natives coming, and they didn’t look enticing.”

  The path dipped into a thick growth of pine, then out and into a small open glade at the end of a canyon. Here, set away by itself, was a temple.

  A wide stone-flagged terrace lay before it. They walked across, footsteps echoing hollowly, then up three high steps and through the narrow door.

  * * *

  INSIDE THE LIGHT was vague, but they could see a bare and empty room except for one place at a far corner where some animal had gathered sticks and grass for a nest. A huge figure of what was intended for Buddha loomed at the end. They walked toward it, and Doone gestured. “See? The Buddha is newer than the rest. Probably some other god was there and they put the Buddha in its place. Didn’t work very well from what I heard in the valley, for the people deserted the temple and, later, the town.”

  He circled the pedestal and the huge stone figure. “Careful! It’s balanced very badly there. I think someone started to move it, planning to return the original, and then stopped.”

  It was not of one solid stone, rather of blocks cunningly fitted together.

  Behind the pedestal, Doone got down on his knees and dug at a flat block fitted into the floor. Using a knife, he succeeded in getting his fingers under the edge. He heaved on the slab, and his shoulder touched the pedestal. The figure above teetered dangerously. “Look out!” Ryan warned. “If that thing fell off of there it would kill us all!”

  Turk stooped and got one edge of the slab and they lifted it out. In the recess below was the black steel box. Carefully, they lifted it out.

  Turk and Ryan each took a handle, and they straightened. Turk went suddenly cold inside. His right hand gripped the handle on the steel box, his Colt was in its shoulder holster in his left armpit. And Travis Bekart was standing before them, in his hands a submachine gun. He was smiling, his coldly handsome face was even colder now, and his eyes were like ice. “So,” he said, “here’s the payoff! Didn’t think I’d let you get away with this, did you, Madden? You messed up my plans for me. I’d an idea of marrying Raemy and living on the fat of the land, then getting rid of her and inheriting it all myself. I got Doone out of the way, and then you had to nose in.

  “But I’d no intention of going back as a prisoner. Oh, no! I intend to go back, all right! I’ll go back alone, and very sad that you were lost, but I’ll take the black box with me, and they will be very pleased. I may even get a decoration for it. And there will be other women with money.”

  “What about Young?” Doone said. “He knows!”

  “Young is dead,” Bekart replied, with triumph. “I’ve killed him. I pushed Raemy into the lake when no one was looking, then when the Manchu went in after her, I took this gun and came away. Unfortunately Young never knew what hit him. And now you…you’ll all know, and I’ll have made a clean sweep. I’ll just leave the girls. Those Ngoloks will take care of them. It will serve Raemy right for not marrying me when she had the chance.”

  “You talk a lot,” Turk said. If only he didn’t have that damned box! He could make a try for his gun and—

  Bob Doone shifted his feet. “You can’t get away with it,” he said. He shifted his right foot a little, lost his balance, and hurled his weight against the pedestal of the huge Buddha!

  As his weight hit the pedestal there was a grinding crash from the stone rollers beneath the figure and the great mass of stone toppled forward!

  Travis Bekart threw up his arms with a scream of fear as he saw the huge stone figure looming over him. For one blinding instant the man’s face was a tortured white mask, and then with a mighty crash the stone image hit the man’s widespread arms and screaming face, burying him under an avalanche of ancient granite.

  The sound died, dust lifted, and Turk staggered forward, pulling on his handle of the box. “Let’s go!” he said.

  They found Young down on his face beside the fighter, his head smashed with the heavy slugs.

  “Go ahead,” Turk told them. “Get this into the amphibian and take off. Get moving.”

  Tenderly, he carried the man’s body to a place beside the other grave. He scraped out a hollow and rolled the body into it, then covered it with brush and stones. There was no time to make a cross.

  He turned and hurried back to the fighter. As he did so, he caught a movement on the lake front below, and saw a column of men circling the lake toward the temple!

  * * *

  YET EVEN AS he looked, he saw the amphibian taxi out on the water. Scrambling into the fighter, he revved the motors. Young had evidently had them warmed fairly well before he was killed. Staring at the lake front, he saw the monks begin to deploy along the waterfront, scattering out in a crude, skirmishing line.

  Twin motors roaring, he started the ship down the plateau. It bumped, then rolled faster and faster. Swiftly, he shot over the packed snow, then hauled back on the stick and lifted the tiny ship. He was airborne. He climbed steadily, then swung around in a steep bank and raced back for the lake front.

  He could see the monks lifting their rifles now, and although he could hear no sound, he knew they were firing. Then he swept down upon them and tripped the triggers on his guns. The leading edge of the wing burst into fire, and he saw the scattered line break and lunge for cover. One man leaped off into the icy water, and then Turk came back on the stick and shot away above the lake, lifting higher and higher, reaching for altitude to put him above the amphibian. The plane below him was heading off across the bleak gray hills, and a thousand feet higher he turned after the fleet Grumman.

  He turned once, to glance back toward the valley, and his eye caught a flash of movement. He glanced up, and fear struck him like a blow! Another fighter was dropping out of the gray clouds, guns flaming, and coming down in a wild, screaming dive!

  Turk whipped the fighter around and dove for the lake, then shot up, just clearing the black edge of the surrounding ridge by a matter of feet. The enemy fighter was on his tail and coming fast. He swung the ship again, darting this way and that in a mad rush to escape. A bullet hole appeared in the instrument panel ahead of him, and something spattered on his face.

  He hauled back on the stick and climbed almost straight up toward the gray clouds, then went over backward in a loop, trying to reverse positions, but as he swept by the other ship he saw a fleeting glimpse of a taut yellowish face! Bo Hau!

  A burst of tracer flamed past him and he whipped the ship around, fighting for his life. The big Ngolok knew his ship and knew every trick of flying. Another burst, and Turk felt a sharp blow on his leg. There was no chance to glance down, but feeling numb and sick, he whipped the ship around again and dove like a streak for the dark, stone-filled streets below!

  As he eased out of a screaming dive he shot the ship for the looming black tower and banked around as if rounding a pylon on a racing course, Bo Hau whipped around it, too, but with a sudden loop, at its bottom no more than fifty feet above the black stone roof
s, Turk got Bo Hau’s fighter in his sights, and he let go a burst that riddled the engine cowling and cockpit. The fighter dipped suddenly and went crashing into the street, one wing ripping off as it hit the edge of a stone roof.

  There was a tremendous burst of flame, and an explosion that rocked Turk’s fighter, and then he was speeding away, heading after the amphibian.

  His motors began to stutter, then spit, and he leveled off and headed for the ground. Ahead was a long level stretch, rocky and scattered here and there with dark, dry-looking brush. As he came in, he cut his speed, eased back a bit on the stick, felt her wheels touch, then again, and then the ship hit a bush and the tail flopped up and over.

  Something smashed him on the head, and he conked out.

  After a long time, he opened his eyes. He was hanging in his safety belt, one shoulder against the edge of the seat. Holding with one hand, he loosened the safety belt and topped to the ground below. He sat there for a long time, his head buzzing. Then he got to his feet, gathered up the few things that belonged to him, and started on weaving feet down the trail the marching party had taken.

  Sometime during the night he fell down by a bush and slept, and then almost at dawn the cold awakened him. Turk staggered to his feet, staring around him. His head throbbed and he was tired, but his mind was clear. Of all that had happened since he began walking he had no idea, nor where he was. He saw the tracks of considerable party and started on, putting each foot down with care.

  * * *

  AT NOON, SOMEWHERE between delirium and sanity, he heard a hum in the sky and looked up, shielding his eyes. Then it stopped and he walked on. He was walking like that when they found him, Sparrow Ryan and Raemy.

  He was walking solemnly along the dim trail, his eyes fixed ahead of him, blood all over his head and caked in his hair and on his cheek, limping with one leg, but walking on.