A small, neat Hindu in scarlet turban, his eyes flickering towards Janet with frank admiration, approached with a ready smile. 'A table, Mr. Drummond? You wish to dine?'
'A booth, I think,' Drummond told him.
They threaded their way between the tables, all eyes turning towards Janet and gasps of admiration, even clapping, followed them to their booth.
They sat facing each other across a small brass table, a bead curtain partially obscuring them from the other diners and Drummond ordered.
It was a simple meal, but superbly cooked. Curried chicken so strong that Janet gaaped for breath, swallowing great draughts of cold water, thoughtfully provided by the proprietor, to cool her burning mouth. Afterwards, they had green mangoes soaked in syrup, followed by Yemeni mocha, the finest coffee in the world, in tiny, exquisite cups.
'Satisfied?' he asked her as he lit a cheroot
She nodded, her eyes shining. 'Marvellous, I wouldn't have missed it for anything.'
There's a floor show of sorts,' he said. 'Do you want to see it? Not exactly the Copocabana, I warn you.'
There was an unmistakable challenge in his voice and she responded immediately. Tve never refused a dare since I was old enough to walk.'
'Suit yourself.'
There was a sudden roll on the drum, the lights dimmed a little and there was silence. There was an atmosphere of expectancy that she could sense at once and then a gentle, universal sigh echoed through the room.
A woman stepped through a curtain at the rear and poised for a moment, a dark silhouette against the light 'Saida! Saida I' the name echoed faintly through the crowd.
'One of the few great nautch dancers left,' JJrummond whispered to Janet 'She's fifty if she's a day, but you'd never guess it.
The right arm extended slowly and a tiny, tinkling cymbal sounded. Immediately the musicians responded on the tabla and zita and Saida started to sway sensuously, moving into the centre of the room.
Her face was heavily painted, a symbolic mask that never changed expression, but the body beneath the swirling, silkea veils was that of a young and vibrant girl.
Gradually, the music increased in tempo and she moved in time, swaying from side to side, discarding her veils one by one until she stood before them, naked except for a small, beaded girdle low across her loins.
She stood quite still as the music stopped and the audience waited. The tabla player's fingers broke into a fast monotonous tattoo and she started to sway, hands above her head, clapping rhythmically, and the audience swayed with her, clapping in time, crying aloud with delight.
Round and round the perimeter of the floor she moved, faster and faster, sweat glistening on her body, until, with a sudden fierce gesture, she ripped the girdle from her loins and fluag herself forward on her knees, sliding to a halt in front of a large, richly dressed merchant who squatted oa cushions before a low table with two companions.
There was another abrupt silence and then the drum sounded again, slower this time, the beat becoming more insistent each moment as she writhed sinuously, thrusting her pointed breasts at him, twisting effortlessly from knees to buttocks, sliding away from his grasping hands, sharp cries rising from the crowd.
And then he had her, fingers hooking into her buttocks. As the crowd roared its approval, the drum stopped. She twisted from his grasp, her ofled body slipping between his hands, ran across the floor and melted through the curtain.
The musicians started to play again on a more muted key and the audience returned to their food, discussing the performance with much laughter and joking. When Prummond turned to look at Janet, her face was strangely pale.
"I warned you,' he said..You wanted to see the real India and this is a country where sex is as much a part of daily life as eating and drinking, an appetite to be satisfied, that's ail.'
'Do you believe that?'
"Depends what a man's looking for, doesn't it? Had enough?.
She nodded and he called for the bill and paid it The room was by this time heavy with smoke and there was the sound of drunken laughter everywhere. As they threaded their way between the tables, eyes turned on Janet, there were winks and leers and sly nudges.
Someone stood up at the edge of the floor and made an obscene gesture. There was a roar of spontaneous laughter and as she turned her head, flushing angrily, she was aware of a hand on her right leg, sliding up beneath the skirt.
She cried out in rage and mortification and swung round. There were four men seated at a low table, three of them typical of a breed to be found the world over in spite of their turbans and loose robes, young, vicious animals, spoiling for trouble. The man who had grabbed at her was older with wild, drunken eyes in a bearded face. He wore a black outer robe threaded with gold and his hands were a blaze of jewels.
As his chin tilted, the mouth wide with laughter, her hand caught him full across the face. His head rocked to one side, there was a general gasp and the room was silent.
His head turned slowly and there was rage and madness in the eyes. As he grabbed at her coat, Drummond spun her to one side. The bearded man was only half way to his feet when Drummond's right foot swung into his crutch. The man screamed, doubling over, and Drummond raised a knee into the descending face, smashing the nose, sending him crashing back across the coffee table.
And the thing Janet couldn't understand was the silence. No one moved to stop them when Drummond turned, straightening his jacket, took her arm, and pushed her through the crowd to the stairs.
Outside in the street, he urged her on, turning and twisting through several alleys until, finally, they emerged on an old stone embankment above the river.
"Why the rush?' she said. 'Did you think they might follow us?.
That's the general idea." He lit a cheroot, the match flaring in his cupped hands to reveal the strong, sardonic face. The young squirt-about-town I treated so roughly back there happens to be the son of the town governor.'
'Will there be trouble?'
"Not the official kind, if that's what you mean. He's got away with too much, in the past for anyone to start crying over Ms ruined looks at this stage. He might put someone on to me privately, but I can handle that.
'Did you really need to be so rough?'
It never pays to do things by halves, not here. This isn't tourist India, you know. The only thing I'm sorry about is taking you there in the first place. I should have had more sense.'
Tm not,' she said. 'You weren't responsible for what happened. To tell you the truth, I rather enjoyed myself.'
'Including the nautch dance?'
She laughed. Til reserve my opinion on that part of the programme. It was very educational, mind you..
'Something of aa understatement You know, you're quite a girl, and for someone who believes in turning the other cheek, you throw a good punch. You certainly rocked Mia back there.'
'A quick temper was always my besetting sin,. shc said. 'My old grannie used to warn me about that when I was a little girl back home in Maine. Quakers are really quite nice when you get to know them. FSesi and blood, too.'
He grinned and took her arm..AH right, I suneader. Let's'walk.'
They went on to the beach below the embankment and strolled through the moonlight without talking for a while. Now and then, sandbanks collapsed into the water with a thunderous roar and cranes threshed through the shallows, disturbed by the noise.
Huge pale flowers swam out of the night, and beyond the trees the sky was violet and purple, more beautiful than anything she had ever seen before. They passed a solitary fisherman cooking a supper offish over a small fire of dried cowdung and Drumiaond gave him a greetmg la Urdu.
"What do you do in Balpur beside fly in guns for Mr. Cheung?' she said after a while.
'Survey work for the Indian government^ freight general cargo or passengers. Anything that comes to hand/
'I shouldn't have thought there was much of a living in that.
There isn't, but Cheung pays well f
or the Tibetan trips. And I'll be leaving soon, anyway. I've had enough of de place..
.What's it like?'
'Balpur?' he shrugged. "Barren, treacherous mountains, A capital of three thousand people that's more like an overgrown village. An army, if you can call it that, of seventy-five. When winter comes, it's absolute hell and that's in another month. The roads are the worst in the world at the best of times, but during the winter, they're completely snowed up.'
"What about the Khan?'
'An old mountain hawk, proud as Lucifer. Quite a warrior in his day. To his people, something very special. Not only king, but priest, and that makes for quite a distinction. You'E like Kerim, his son. A great pily about his accident I hope your people in Chicago can fix him up all right'
'He's eight, isn't he?.
"Nine in three months.'
'My instructions told me to get in touch with a Father Kerrigan when I arrive. Apparently he's in charge of all the arrangements.'
.You'll like him,' Drummond said. 'He's about sixty, A marvellous old Irishman who just won't give in. He's been twelve years in Sikkim and hasn't made a single convert and the people adore him. It's fantastic.'
If he hasn't got a congregation, what does he do with himself?'
'As it happens, he's a qualified doctor. Runs a small mission hospital about a mile outside of Sadar, completely on his own. There's one other European up there, a man called Brackenshaw. A geologist for some British firm or other. They've also made him British Consul, but don't let that impress you. It doesn't mean a thing.' f
'You don't like him, I take itT
"Not much.'
He stopped to light another cheroot and she said casually, 'Why did you leave the Navy, Jack?'
He paused, the match flaring in his fingers, his eyes dark shadows. 'You really want to know?'
She didn't answer and he shrugged, flicking the match into the night. They kicked me out, or advised me to leave, which comes to the same thing for a career officer.'
She could sense the pain in his voice and put a hand on his arm instinctively. 'What happened?'
'I was a Fleet Air Arm pilot during the Korean War. One bright morning in July, 1952,1 took my squadron to the wrong target. When we left, it was a smoking nun. We did a good job. We managed to kill twenty-three American marines and ten Royal Marine Commandos who had been serving with them.'
There was bewilderment in her voice. 'But how could such a thing happen?'
The briefing officer gave me the wrong information..
.So it wasn't your fault?'
'Depends how you look at it. If I'd checked my orders more carefully, I'd have spotted the mistake. I was too Hied, lhat was the trouble. Overtired. Too many mis-' sions, not enough sleep. I should have grounded myself weeks before, but I didn't.
'So they couldn't court-martial you?.
'A quiet chat with someone with gold rings all the way up to his elbow, that's all it took. I got the message.'
Tra sorry, Jack. Sorrier than I can say..
Her voice was warm and full of sympathy. They had reached a flight of stone steps leading up from the shore and he paused and looked at her.
Her mouth opened to cry a warning and he ducked, turning to meet the rush of feet from the darkness.
A fist grazed his cheek, he lost his balance and rolled over and over, hands protecting his genitals as feet swung in viciously.
He sprang up and backed to the wall. There were three of them, dark, shadowy figures in tattered robes, scum from the market place hired for a few rupees. Above them on the steps below the lamp, stood the man from the cafe, supported by two of his friends, blood on his face.
A knife gleamed dully and Janet ran in past the three men to join Drummond against the walL 'Kill him!" the bearded man cried. 'Kill the swine!'
Drummond was tired. It had been a long evening. His hand disappeared inside his coat reaching to the leather holster on his left hip and reappeared holding a Smith & Wesson.38 Magnum revolver with a three-inch barrel.
He fired into the air and there was a sudden stillness. 'Go on, get out of it!' he shouted angrily and fired a shot towards the man on the steps that ricocheted into the night.
The men from the market place were already running away along the shore, cursing volubly, and the gover- nor's son and his two friends staggered into the darkness.
Drummond slipped the revolver back into its holster and looked down at her calmly. 'You know, I really think it's time we went back to the hotel, don't you?'
She started to tremble uncontrollably and he reached out, pulling her into his arms. 'It's all right. Everything's all right now.'
He stroked her hair gently with one hand and his lips brushed her forehead. In the heavy stillness of the night, she could almost hear her heart beating. When he tilted her chin and kissed her gently on the mouth, it was like nothing she had ever known before.
He slipped her arm in his without speaking, and together they went up the steps to the embankment
The Last Place God Made
THE air was bumpy as they flew out of the pass for a forty-knot wind was blowing across the mountains. They climbed through a heat haze that was already blurring the horizon and levelled out at 9,000 feet to cross the mountains between India and Balpur.
Janet Tate was in the front passenger seat beside Drummond and Hamid sat behind her. She was wearing a white blouse, collar turned down over the neck of a cashmere sweater, cream whipcord slacks and a sheepskin coat that Drummond had provided.
Hamid poured coffee into a plastic cup and handed it to her. 'We're moving into Balpur now,' he said. The mountains to the east are in Bhutan with Assam far beyond in the haze. The Chinese broke through in strength there in 1962.'
"Were you there?'
He shook his head. 'No, I was on the Ladakh front in the north-west.
It was supposed to be pretty bad up there, wasn't it?.
'A vision from hell,' he said grimly. 'Can you imagine what it's like trying to live at 20,000 feet, never mind fight? The mules died of asthma, the men of pulmonary oedema. You've heard of it, I suppose.'
She nodded. The lungs fill with water, don't they?'
.An ironic way for a man to die in battle - by drowning. We could never get them down to the base hospitals in time for treatment, that was the trouble.'
'Hadn't you any air support, helicopters?.
He laughed harshly. 'Until October, 1962, we hadn't needed them. The way of peace was the way for India.' He shook his head..No, we didn't have the necessary planes. Even if we had, there weren't the pilots. Certainly not the kind who could fly hi that sort of country. That's where I met Jack, you know.'
She turned to Drummond in surprise..You were flying for the Indian Army?'
'Five hundred quid a week,' he said. 'Good money by any standards.'
"Don't listen to him,' Hamid broke in. 'A game he plays. From Leh, he flew three operational flights a day into the Ladakh mountains to one small airstrip at 18,000 feet, taking in supplies and ammunition, bringing out the sick and wounded. In five weeks, he flew just over a hundred sorties, then collapsed and spent three weeks in hospital suffering from complete exhaustion.
His contract called for five flights a week, no more..
'He should have added that they didn't pay me for the time in hospital,' Drummond told her. That's the wily oriental for you.'
He increased speed and banked In a long, sweeping curve that took them out of a shallow pass and into a valley beyond. A broad river flowed sluggishly, snaking between jagged cliffs, a thread of silver in a landscape so savage and sterile that it took the breath away.
'Remember what I told you,' Drummond said. 'The last place God made. And to think the Chinese have laid claim to this bloody lot.'
'But why?' she said.
The same psychology the Roman Emperors used,' Hamid told her. 'Give the mob circuses to take their mind$ off the more important problems. In China in 1962, the harvest was bad and thousands star
ved, so their army invaded India, a country completely unprepared for such an attack, and presented their people with a ready made victory. In Pekin, they were able to tighten their belts and wave banners.'
'Have they really laid claim to Balpur?'
'Along with almost every other border country. Actually, Balpur was a part of the Chinese Empire in ancient times. The people are Mongolian. Only the ruling class are Muslims, descendants of the original invaders. But no one seriously imagines that they would invade. For one thing, the old Khan has preferred to stay completely neutral. He's the only ruler of a border state who hasn't signed a mutual defence pact with India.'
Jack Higgins - Iron Tiger Page 4