'Better get out of those wet things,' he said. 'You'll catch your death.'
'You could use a towel yourself.' She took his hand.
"Well go round this way. Father Kerrigan's probably gone to bed.'
They followed the verandah to the garden at the rear where the window of her bedroom stood ajar. She went in, turned up the lamp and found a spare towel.
'Do what you can with that while I get changed.'
'Like me to dry your back?' he said.
She gave him a quick push towards the window. 'Go on, get out of here.'
She pulled the curtain, peeled off her wet clothes and towelled herself briskly, still shivering. After a while, the shaking stopped and a warm glow spread through her body. She pulled on her dressing gown, tying the cord at her waist and went back outside.
Drummond wiped the rain from his head and face and hung the towel across the rail. It was bitterly cold by now and he stood there breathing deeply, taking the freshness into his lungs, filled with a strange inward restlessness.
'Feeling better?' she said quietly.
He turned slowly. Janet Tate was standing a few feet away by the rail and as lightning exploded, her face seemed to jump out of the night, the hair like a dark curtain to her shoulders. And she was beautiful, that was the thing which came to him with a sense of real wonder. Not just attractive, but beautiful, and he took two stumbling steps towards her, pulling her close.
The drumming of the rain on the corrugated iron roof increased into a solid roaring that seemed to fill her ears. She was aware of his strength, the arms crushing her to him and as her loose dressing gown parted, his lips found her bare shoulders, her breasts.
She leaned against him, caught in a strong current there was no denying, and was aware of his hands, fumbling at the cord of her dressing gown.
As it opened, she pulled away, straggling frantically. 'No, Jack, no P He paused, head slightly forward, trying to see her more clearly in the half-darkness, and she pushed him away violently with both hands. 'Not this way, Jack! I'm not one of your kept women!"
For a long moment he stood there, almost invisible in the shadows, staring at her, and then, without a word, he walked rapidly away.
As another brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the empty verandah, Janet turned with a dry sob, went back inside and threw herself on the bed, anger and frustration sweeping through her.
Drummond had left the window of his bedroom open deliberately in spite of the cold. He lay in bed, propped against a pillow smoking a cigarette and thinking about Janet Tate as the rain drummed endlessly on the roof.
If that was the way she wanted it, then.to hell with her. As he reached to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray on the locker at his bedside, there was a movement by the window, something stirred and Famia emerged from the shadows.
Her hair was unbound, hanging to her waist and she wore a loose silken robe fastened with a scarlet sash. There was a slight rustling of silk and as she moved into the narrow circle of the lamplight, the robe slipped to the ground.
She stood there for a moment, magnificent in her nakedness, breasts pointed with desire, hands flat against her thighs.
She moved forward quickly and his arms went out to enfold her, crushing her softness against him. He held her close, staring blindly out of the open window at the night as she moaned softly, digging her nails into his shoulder.
And after all. why not? This was one kind of answer and as good as any other.
In the darkness of the terrace, the old woman listened for a moment, then nodded to herself in satisfaction and crept quietly away.
It was close to dawn when he awakened, the sweat cold on his flesh. It was still raining hard outside and he hitched the blanket over his shoulders and turned into her warmth to sleep again.
Outside, the sound that had awakened him came nearer, the roar of an engine thundering through the rain. There was a squeal of brakes, boots running across the courtyard. Drummond got out of bed, reached for his dressing gown and padded to the window. As he moved out on to the verandah, Tony Brackenhurst stumbled on the top step and dropped to one knee, his face wild and strained in the light of the porch lamp.
Tor God's sake, man, what is it?. Drummond demanded.
'Chinese troops,' Brackenhurst gasped. 'At HoweeL They over-ran my camp, slaughtered my men..
'Chinese?' Drummond said. 'A patrol, you mean?.
'Hundreds of the bastards! Hundreds 1' Brackenhurst sobbed.
Drummond stood stock-still for a moment and then pulled Brackenhurst to his feet. 'Have you told anyone else about this?'
Brackenhurst shook his head. 'No, I haven't had time.'
'Good, if word gets out too soon we might have a general panic and that plane of mine can take no more then fifteen in this kind of flying country.'
That's what I thought,' Brackenhurst said.
1 bet you did. Now this is what we do. From here, we go to the mission to warn Father Kerrigan and Janet We'll leave them my jeep and they can follow us in with Kerim as soon as they're ready..
"What do we do then?
'Come back to town in your Land Rover and break the news to the Khan. This might prove to him just how useless it was to rely on the border tribes for information.'
He returned to his bedroom and dressed quickly, pulling on fur-lined boots and his old naval flying jacket Famia sat up in bed, the blankets clutched to her breast and watched him.
.When will you be back?' she said.
He took the Smith & Wesson.38 from a drawer, checked that it was loaded and slipped a box of spare cartridges into his pocket. 'God knows, but you'll bs all right You don't need me. You never did..
He went out through the window and a moment later she heard the two engines break into life^ one after the other, and the sound of them faded into the rain.
The door creaked open and the old woman crept in..Did you hear?' the girl said softly in Urdu.
The woman nodded and pulled the blankets aside. 'Come, girl, there is not much time and you know what must be dons.'
Famia dressed quickly in an old pair of Drummond's drill pants and a white naval sweater that dropped over her slim hips. She pulled on slippers, nodded to her mother and moved out on to the verandah. A moment later, she was running through the quiet streets, head down against the rain.
Within five minutes, she came to a bungalow almost identical with Drummond's, ran up the steps to the verandah and knocked on the door furiously.
'Mr. Cheung! Mr. Cheung!' she called.
Action by Night
IT was the rain which saved Brackenhurst, the sudden torrential downpour which turned a normally quiet mountain stream into a brawling torrent, in one place filling a dip in the road with a ford of ice-cold water.
He had spent a long, hard day in the mountains on his own, prospecting for ore specimens and now, on his way back to his base camp at Howeel, the sudden rush of water gleaming white and brown in his head. lights caused him to stamp hard on the brake.
He got out, found a branch at the side of the road and poked it carefully into the water. It was at least four feet deep. He might be able to drive through, but on the other hand, if the damned thing bogged down, he'd had it He climbed back into the Land Rover and reversed to the top of the hoi, switched off his headlights and returned on foot
The water was cold, damned cold, and it swirled around his thighs, numbing him to the bone. He floundered forward with a curse and found dry land again. Thank God the camp was no more than half a mile away.
He trudged along the dirt road, head down against the driving rain, the light from his electric torch reaching into the darkness. Somewhere up ahead he seemed to hear a cry and then another, confused shouting and the dull, flat report of a gunshot muffled by the rain. A second later came the deadly staccato of a machine gun.
-"' He stood at the top of a small rise, a slight frown oa his face as he looked down through the pine trees at the flickering light of the campfire.
There was a flurry of movement, the noise of vehicles, a shouted command.
Ha moved off the road and went down through the trees cautiously until he was ao more thaa twenty or thirty yards away from the camp, but above it on the hfflsids.
The hollow was alive with Chinese troops, little Stocky peasants in quilted uniforms and peaked caps, shining Burp guns in their hands, and the heart seemed to freeze inside him.
He could see two of Ms men, Galur and old Abdul, standing beside the fire, hands raised high in the air. There was the sudden roll of an automatic weapon and Abdul fell back across the fire. Galur turned, burst through the ring of men and ran for the trees, head down. For a moment it seemed that he might make it and then a burst from a sub-machine gun drove him on to his knees.
The soldiers were calling excitedly to each other as they started to search the tents. More and more of them pressed into the camp and with a sudden roar, a troop carrier came down the road, followed by another and yet another, half-tracks at the rear for mountain warfare, instead of wheels.
Brackenhurst had seen enough. He turned and scrambled back up the hill. From somewhere to his left, there was a cry and a bullet passed through the trees severing a branch.
He put down his head and ran faster, one arm raised before Ms face to ward off flailing branches. A moment later he floundered across the ford and staggered up the hill to the Land Rover.
The engine was still warm and it burst into life with a surge of power when he pressed the starter. He reversed quickly, the tyres skidded for a moment, searching for a grip on the soft, crumbling edge of the track, and then they found it and he drove away rapidly.
Sitting at the whesl of the Land Rover in the courtyard of the mission and remembering what had happened at Howeel, Brackenhurst shivered involuntarily. He could hear the rise and fall of voices and looked put again at Father Kerrigan, at Drummond standing in the doorway, the old priest holding a lamp in one hand.
After a moment, Father Kerrigan went back inside, closing the door and Drummond ran down the steps and scrambled into the passenger seat
'Right, let's get moving..
'What did the old man have to say?' Brackenhurst asked as lie drove away.
"What could he say? He's going to pack up as fast as he can and follow on in the jeep with Janet and the boy. No sense in staving to face what's coming. You know what they do to people like him..
'What do you think the Khan will do?'
.What in the hell can he do except get out? He hasn't got a defence pact with India, which means they're going to sit tight on their side of the border, and if I know them, the Chinese will be smart enough to go just that far and no further.'
'But why?' Brackenhurst demanded. "What in the hell can they possibly want with a dump like this? There's nothing here that's worth having.'
.You could say the same about the Aksai Chien and the Ladakh, but they moved in there and for the same reason. Prestige, a paper victory. The glorious Army of the People's Republic takes back what was part of the Chinese Empire a thousand years ago. The fact that Balpur is a few thousand square miles of the most sterile territory on God's earth doesn't matter. It'll take the people's mind off the bad harvest back home.'
As they drove through the deserted streets, the sky was beginning to lighten over the mountains, and beyond the scattered, flat-roofed houses, grey and sombre, the river roared through the valley, gwollea by the rain.
Later, at the palace, waiting for the Khan in the room where they had dined in what now seemed another age, another time, Drummond opened the french windows and stood on the terrace in the rain, listening.
The Khan was taking his time, but when he came in, he was wearing a khaki drill uniform, the medals above the left hand pocket, a splash of vivid colour in the grey morning. The major domo to whom Drummond had given the original message followed him with a decanter of brandy and glasses on a silver tray.
The Khan had dropped twenty years and there was a new vitality in his step. 'It seemed to me that a drink might be in order, gentlemen. If what Ahmed has told me is anywhere near the truth, it may well be some considerable time before we have another.' The major domo filled three glasses, passed them round and left the room. The Khan toasted them silently. 'Now, Mr. Brackenhurst, perhaps you would be good enough to tell me in your own words exactly what happened at Howeel.'
When Brackenhurst had finished, the old man turned to Drummond. 'What do you think?'
'I don't understand it,' Drummond said. 'Last time I was up there, there was nothing. Not a damned thing.'
'But that was ten days ago now, am I right?'
.What are you going to do?'
Tm not sure. First I must confer with Colonel Sher Dil and Major Hamid. I have sent messengers already telling them both to meet me urgently at Army Headquarters.'
'Seventy-five men,' Drummond said. They won't go far and you can't rely on the tribesmen. They'll simply take to the hills and stay out of trouble. And I don't think the Indian Army will interfere.'
'A pessimistic view, but a correct one, I fear. How many can your plane take?'
'Not more than fifteen in this kind of country. I've got to get over those mountains, remember, and if we're going we must go quickly. Once the people get hold of the news we'll have a howling mob running for the airstrip. Father Kerrigan's the only other person I've told so far. "We called at the mission and left my jeep. He's going to pack up as quickly as he can and follow us in with Kerim and Miss Tate.'
The Khan nodded. 'Good, my soa must certainly be saved at all costs.'
Then by my reckoning that gives us a possible passenger list consisting of yourself, Kerim, Father Kerrigan, Miss Tate, Brackenhurst here and Major Hamid. Colonel Sher Dil, too, of course, if he wants to come.'
"What about Cheung?' Brackenhurst put in.
.I was forgetting him.' Drummond turned to the Khan. 'Your Highness is probably well aware of Mr. Cheung's true politics. God alone knows what the Reds would do if they got their hands on him.'
The major domo returned and handed the Khan a polished leather belt and holster containing a heavy British Army service revolver. He belted it around hi waist, and smiled grimly.
Then I think it is time to move, gentlemen. You may drop me at Colonel Sher Dil's headquarters. I suggest you then continue on to the airstrip and prepare the plane for immediate take-off..
Outside, it was even lighter now, the sky a heavy uniform grey, the rain turning the dirt road into a quagmire as they drove down through the streets to the main square, braking to a halt outside the grim, barrack-like building that was Sher Oil's headquarters.
There was already a bustle of activity, and as the Khan got out the colonel came down the steps to meet him, Major Hamid at his shoulder. The Pathan glanced enquiringly at Drummond who held his thumb down and Brackenhurst drove away quickly.
Beyond the city, one or two tents were pitched, a Sock of heavy, mountain sheep crowding in close to where a herdsman's fire already trailed grey smoke into the morning.
They bounced over the rutted track, skidding slightly in the mud, and went over the escarpment and dowa towards the airstrip.
The cprrugated iron hangar looked ugly and forsaken in the grey morning and Brackenhurst braked to a halt a few yards away and nodded towards the airstrip itself, already a sea of mud.
'Not much of a surface to take off on.'
'Anything will do for a Beaver,' Drummond said. That's why they're so good for this kind of country.'
He took out his key, unlocked the padlock and pulled the doors wide, revealing the red and gold plane, and a quiet, precise voice said, 'Excellent, my friend, now move away, please.'
Cheung came round the corner of the building, an automatic pistol in one hand. In the other, he held a grenade. 'Going somewhere, Jack?'
"That was the general idea.' Drummond slipped his hands casually into the slanting pockets of his flying jacket, fingers closing around the butt of the Smith & Wesson. 'What is this?.
Fauna moved from behind one of the doors and stood at Cheung's shoulder, looking faintly ridiculous in Drummond's sweater, which was by now so sodden and heavy with rain that it almost reached her knees.
"Well, I'll be damned,' he said.
Cheung smiled gently. 'No one is going anywhere, Jack. It was not in the plan.'
In one quick movement, he pulled the ring from the grenade with his teeth and tossed it inside the hangar. In the same moment, Drummond pulled the Smith & Wesson from his pocket and loosed off a wild shot that splintered the door behind Cheung's head, sending him running for cover.
Drummond turned and ran. Brackenhurst was already scrambling behind the wheel of the Land Rover. As the engine roared into life, the grenade exploded, hot air reached out to enfold Drummond, and the entire hangar seemed to sag.
Jack Higgins - Iron Tiger Page 7