The Mountain

by Richard Turner

  A couple of seconds later, the front door to the white brick building flung open and a man in his gray pajamas with boots on his feet, holding a lantern in one hand and a shotgun in the other, stepped outside. With an angry scowl on his weathered face, the man said, “Who the hell do you think you are to wake me up so early in the bloody morning?”

  “It’s me, Hector,” said Amrit with a disarming smile on her face.

  “My God, it’s Amrit York. How long has it been since you graced me with your company?” said the man lowering his shotgun, his Scottish accent as strong as Bruce’s.

  “Too long,” replied Amrit. “Now, instead of standing there in your nightclothes, why don’t you put on a fresh pot of coffee while I whip us up some breakfast?”

  “Sounds fair. But you have to introduce me to your two traveling companions first.”

  “Hector MacDonald, I’d like you to meet Mister West and Mister North,” said Amrit indicating to Shaw and Bruce.

  “Not going to tell me their real names, are you?” said MacDonald.

  Amrit shook her head. “You know better than that, Hector. Now why are we all still standing around outside? It’s been a long night, I’m cold, and I’m famished, so move your old carcass out of the way and let me get to work.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they all sat down at the small table in MacDonald’s kitchen

  “I’ve always said you’d make someone a fine wife,” said MacDonald to Amrit. “Why don’t you settle down with me? We can raise some kids together.”

  Amrit smiled. “Hector, that’s the fifth time you have proposed to me and as before, I’m going to have to turn you down. I have too many responsibilities with the war on to run off with you.”

  “We’re not getting any younger,” said MacDonald.

  “Ask me again when the war is over.”

  “Done,” replied MacDonald with a wide grin on his face.

  Shaw could see that Amrit and Hector truly respected one another and that their good-natured banter was a normal part of their relationship. While Amrit had prepared breakfast, Shaw learned that MacDonald was a smuggler of great repute, at least according to him. Amrit and her brother had used MacDonald to help smuggle them in and out of Tibet whenever they needed to conduct a clandestine mission across the border.

  Hector Macdonald was a fit Scotsman in his late fifties with thick salt and pepper hair that was in need of a cut. He had hazel eyes and a jutting jaw and a nose that looked like it been broken more than a few times in his youth. Once a soldier in the British Army, MacDonald had left the service while his regiment was in India. Settling down in Sikkim, he had quickly grown bored and found himself drawn into the world of smuggling. The Indian authorities turned a blind eye to his activities, as long as he helped them out from time to time.

  “I can tell by yer accent that yer from Glasgow,” said MacDonald to Bruce.

  “Actually, I’m from Greenock,” replied Bruce.

  “Hector!” admonished Amrit. “You know better than that. No more prying. From now on direct all of your questions to me.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that I shouldn’t answer the man’s question,” said Bruce meekly.

  “It’s not your fault,” said MacDonald. “Amrit’s right. Whatever yer up to is none my business. I just get a bit lonely up here and whenever she brings someone new around, I tend to let my inquisitive nature get the better of me.”

  “Now that we all understand one another,” said Amrit, “I suggest that we get down to business. Hector, we’re going to need forged travel documents. I want the best you can afford. Also, we need three horses, a couple of donkeys and enough supplies to last us a month in Tibet.”

  “Will yah be doing any climbing this time?”

  “It is a distinct possibility, knowing the opposition,” said Shaw.

  MacDonald almost asked who the opposition was but with Amrit glaring at him, he kept his mouth shut.

  “Can you help us?” asked Amrit.

  “Of course I can,” replied MacDonald. “How soon do you need all of this?”

  “By last light today.”

  “My God,” exclaimed MacDonald. “You must think me a miracle worker. There’s no way I could possibly acquire everything that you need in such a short space of time.”

  “Hector, trust me, this is a matter of national security. Get what I’m after and I’ll pay double for everything.”

  “Double, eh?” said MacDonald, rubbing his unshaven chin with his hand.

  “You have my word on it.”

  “Then you have a deal,” said MacDonald, enthusiastically shaking Amrit’s hand.

  “Why can’t we take the truck?” asked Bruce.

  Amrit smiled and then said, “Because the roads are far too narrow for it and the only real way to get where you want to in Tibet is on horseback.”

  “It’s been a few years since I was in the saddle,” said Shaw. “This should be fun.”

  “Glad you think so,” said Bruce, shaking his head. “I’ve never ridden one. Perhaps you could leave me behind and pick me up on your way back across the border.”

  “Not likely,” said Shaw. “I need what you’ve got stored up inside that mind of yours. Why bring a map when I have you?”

  Bruce sat back in his chair and grumbled to himself. Shaw had given him several surveyors’ maps from the last century to look at during their long journey to Egypt. Now he knew why.

  Shaw woke just before dawn. He quietly got up off the hard wooden floor in Hector MacDonald’s home, stretched out his aching back, and walked over to the fireplace. He grabbed a poker and moved a couple of burned logs about until he found some simmering embers. Shaw placed a new piece of wood in the fire. He leaned forward and blew on the embers until they glowed red-hot. With the fire going, Shaw grabbed his jacket, threw it on and stepped outside into the cool morning air. A gray mist once more enveloped the top of the hill. He walked over to the stable behind Hector’s home and stepped inside to check on his horse, and was surprised to see Amrit already up and saddling her horse for the day’s ride ahead.

  “Good morning,” said Shaw.

  Amrit smiled when she saw Shaw. “Good morning to you. I hope I didn’t wake you when I got up.”

  “No, on the contrary, I didn’t even know that you were up.”

  Amrit cinched up the strap underneath her saddle and then turned to face Shaw. “I always get nervous before I cross the border, not that I’ve done it very often; however, the feeling is always the same, a mix of anticipation and fear. I bet you’re used to it.”

  “Why do you think I’m up? I’m no different than you.”

  “I would have expected a different answer from you, James. After all, you’re a soldier.”

  “If a person says they fear nothing, they’re a damned fool or a liar,” said Shaw with a smile. “Truth be told, this is only my third mission. Duncan and I were drafted into the SOE earlier this year. I can’t go into all the details; suffice to say our first assignment in Norway was one I’d rather not relive. Neither of us came willingly. However, having said that, I couldn’t honestly imagine serving someplace else now.”

  “Shall we wake up Duncan and get him ready to leave?” asked Amrit.

  “In a minute,” said Shaw, stepping closer to Amrit. He looked deep into her eyes, studying them for a moment. He saw in her eyes the pain and loss she still harbored in her heart for her older brother. Shaw knew the feeling all too well. His own brother, Andrew, had been killed during the Japanese raid on Pearl Harbor.

  “Please, you’re making me feel uncomfortable, James,” said Amrit, turning her head away.

  “I’m sorry, Amrit. It’s just that I know so little about you, yet I can see that you are still troubled by the death of your brother,” said Shaw, gently reaching over and taking Amrit’s hand in his. “Trust me, I know how you feel. Not a day goes go by that I don’t think about my brother Andrew. Hell, it almost got me killed in Norway.”

  Amrit felt her
heart begin to race. She had never told anyone how she felt. She had buried her feelings in her work. She had built a wall around her heart. Now a man almost ten years younger than her was reaching out to her.

  “You’re a funny man, Mister Shaw,” said Amrit. “For a man who acts tough, you have a side to you that I had never expected to find.”

  No matter how foolish it was, Shaw stepped closer to Amrit. He took his right hand, placed it around her back and gently pulled her towards him. Amrit didn’t resist; closing her eyes, she waited for Shaw’s lips on hers.

  “Oy, did I miss reveille or something?” said Bruce loudly, as he walked into the stable.

  Instantly letting go of one another, like a pair of teenagers, Amrit and Shaw tried to look as though nothing had been going on.

  “Seriously, did I miss something?” asked Bruce.

  Shaw and Amrit both shook their heads and then stepped further apart.

  “Are you sure? Because you both like mighty guilty,” said Bruce.

  “Why on earth could you say that?” said Shaw. “We both thought it best if you got a good night’s rest before we begin our long journey.”

  Amrit nodded her head in agreement.

  “You’re both really bad liars,” said Bruce. “Now will someone please show me how to put my saddle on my horse, or would you rather be left alone for a few more minutes?”

  Shaw grinned and said, “That won’t be necessary. Come on, Duncan; let’s get your horse ready to leave.”

  An hour later, with Hector MacDonald waving to them from his doorway, Amrit gently tapped the sides of her horse and led Shaw and Bruce into the swirling mist. Within seconds, they vanished from sight.

  As he watched them leave, MacDonald felt a chill run down his back. He was about to head back inside his warm home when he found himself unable to move. Something in his heart told him that Amrit and the men with her were heading into danger, a danger from which he might never see her again. He tried to shake such a morbid thought from his mind, but found that he could not. After closing the door, MacDonald walked over to cluttered kitchen and then reached up above the cupboards until he felt his shotgun. He brought it down, popped it open, and quickly jammed two shells into the weapon before snapping it shut. MacDonald moved back over by the warm fireplace and stood there, his eyes fixed on the closed door. Something, deep down, told him that trouble was coming, and that he needed to be ready when the time came for him to act.

  Chapter 15

  Old Trade Route

  Tibet- Bhutan border

  It was approaching noon. High above in the cloudless sky a couple of vultures circled effortlessly in the warm updrafts coming off the mountains.

  The days were becoming routine. They rose at dawn and ate a hearty breakfast before continuing their journey along the rugged border with Bhutan. The trail they followed was the traditional trade route between Tibet’s capital, Lhasa, and India. Established centuries ago, the trail had become a well-worn path that was easy to navigate. With rest stops established along the way at precise one-day intervals, Shaw thought that it could have been an enjoyable adventure if they hadn’t been trying to stop Adler and his people. So far, aside from one government official who had scrutinized for over an hour the forged papers Amrit carried with her before letting them continue on their way, no one had seemed the least bit interested in them.

  After stopping to rest beside a fast-running brook fed by a melting glacier in the high eastern mountain range, Shaw quickly got a fire going, while Bruce and Amrit debated what they would have for lunch. Eventually, Amrit won out and a soup of rice and lamb was soon boiling over the fire. A sandy-colored fox trotted out from behind some tall boulders and ventured too close to the horses until Bruce shooed it away with a rock. The last thing they needed was to lose a horse spooked off by an overly inquisitive animal.

  Amrit took a seat, undid her heavy jacket, picked a blue poppy from the ground and smelled it before looking over at Shaw. “You know, I don’t understand why we haven’t come across Adler and his people. We’ve been on the road for over a week now. There are only three of us; we should have caught up with them by now.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Shaw. “They could have better horses than we do. Your friend, Hector, didn’t get us the best horses from whatever stable he bought them from. Mine looks like she’s ready to quit and head back to India with or without me.”

  “I’m sure he got the best he could on such short notice,” replied Amrit defensively.

  “They also might not have followed this path,” said Bruce. “There are two more routes heading north that they could have used.”

  “I’ve never heard of any other trails,” said Amrit.

  “In the sixteenth century, a Jesuit missionary followed a path that hugged what would become the Tibet-Bhutan border before striking off for Lhasa. In the eighteenth century, a British East India Company trader described a route that parallels this one, thirty miles to the west,” explained Bruce.

  “How do you know this?” asked Amrit.

  “I read several old books on Tibet. It was all in there.”

  Shaw chuckled. “Duncan has a photographic memory, he can probably tell you down to the nearest mile where we are in Tibet.”

  Amrit looked over disbelievingly at Bruce. “All right then, where are we?”

  “We’ve made good time today, so I’d say that we’re five miles short of our next rest stop near the village of Palizhen,” replied Bruce with a smile on his face.

  Amrit dug out a well-worn map from her jacket. She placed it on the ground and studied the route they were following for a minute before shaking her head as she folded up her map. “If I didn’t know you, I would say this was all some elaborate parlor trick being played out at my expense. However, Duncan is quite correct; our next stop for the evening is Palizhen.”

  “You should learn to trust me,” said Bruce. “If you like, I can tell you without looking how much food we have left to the can, bag, and sack.”

  “No, that’s ok, I trust you,” said Amrit.

  A minute later, Shaw handed around wooden bowls filled with delicious-smelling soup. They sat in silence enjoying the food, when the sound of a bell noisily clanging away somewhere further down the trail caught everyone’s attention. With his rifle in his hands, Shaw stood up and looked for the source of the noise. A few seconds passed before an elderly, hunched-over man came walking down the trail, followed by a shaggy yak with two large curved horns protruding from its head.

  “Amrit, you’re up,” said Shaw as he lowered his rifle.

  Quickly making herself look a bit more presentable in her peasant clothing, Amrit stood up and stepped out onto the rocky trail. When the man was only a few yards away, Amrit said, “Good day, sir, would you like to join my friends and me for a meal and a chance to rest your weary feet?”

  With a startled look on his aged face, the man jumped back and looked as if he were going to die from fright.

  “We mean you no harm,” said Amrit, seeing the look of fright in the man’s eyes. “We’re not bandits.”

  “I thought you were an evil spirit coming to take my soul,” said the man as he looked over at Amrit. “If I were a younger man I would have gone for my Phurba.”

  “There is no need for your dagger,” said Amrit calmly. “My traveling companions and I are made of flesh, bone and blood just like you.”

  “Yes, you do look real,” said the man, “and your food does smell delicious.”

  “Please join us. It is the least we can do for startling you,” said Amrit as she motioned towards the open ground around the fire.

  The old man bowed his head slightly and then stuck out his tongue at Amrit, who responded in kind.

  After tying his yak to a gnarled old tree, the man ambled over and sat down in front of the fire, his joints creaking and popping as he made himself comfortable.

  Amrit smiled and then handed him a bowl of soup before taking a seat near him. The man smelled t
he food and hesitated for a moment before plunging his wooden spoon in. After taking a quick taste of the soup, he smiled and then ravenously devoured the meal.

  “Looks like the old fella hasn’t eaten in a month,” observed Bruce.

  “It looks like the soup is a hit,” added Shaw.

  Shaw looked over at Amrit and said, “What was all that about before he’d accept our hospitality?”

  “He was worried that I was a ghost,” replied Amrit.

  “A ghost? There’s no such thing,” said Bruce.

  “Don’t look at these people through the eyes of a westerner. Tibetans are very spiritual people, and they most assuredly believe in ghosts,” said Amrit. “Most homes have a spirit trap mounted on the roof of their home to catch any wayward spirits trying to enter. Also, they have national day called Gutor in which the entire country exorcises all of the negativity and evil spirits of the past year. Our guest here carries with him a Phurba, a ritual dagger that he would use to protect himself from attack by an evil spirit.”

  “And the tongue business?” asked Shaw.

  “It’s a greeting. If a Tibetan shows you their tongue, you should reciprocate. If you don’t, you’re being impolite,” replied Amrit.

  “Could you ask him if he’s seen any other foreigners along this route in the past few days?” asked Shaw.

  For a couple of minutes, Amrit had an animated discussion during which Shaw and Bruce could only listen and wait.

  After handing the man another bowl of soup, Amrit stood up and joined her companions. “It would seem that our friend has most definitely seen Adler and his people. In fact, they are only one day’s ride from here.”

  Shaw grinned. “That’s great news. Is there anything he can tell us about them?”

  Amrit shook her head. “No, he kept his distance from them as he was certain that they were all evil spirits.”