Jack Higgins - Iron Tiger

by Iron Tiger [lit]

  "We'll rest for a while,' he said.

  Janet handed Kerim down to Drummond and slipped from the saddle. She wiped the snow from her face and smiled wanly. It's cold.'

  Too damned cold,' Drummond said.

  Father Kerrigan walked forward stiffly, slapping his arms to restore the circulation. Td better have a look at Kerim.'

  . Drummond crouched down in the shelter of the boulders and Father Kerrigan knelt beside him and gently parted the blankets. 'God bless my soul, but the child's sleeping.'

  'Is he all right?' Janet said anxiously. 'He's warm enough, isn't he?'

  'Warmer than any of us in that cocoon.' The old man sat down against the rocks. 'Did you bring the contents of my medical bag?'

  Janet nodded and slipped her arms through the straps of the military haversack she'd been carrying on her back. She opened it and took out the Thermos flask of tea she had prepared at breakfast

  .What was it you wanted?'

  "Never mind, I'll find it for myself.'

  The old priest looked grey and haggard and the lines in his face scoured deep into the flesh. He searched through the contents of the haversack and found what he was looking for, a small bottle of red capsules. He slipped a couple into his mouth and Janet passed him tea in the one tin mug that she had brought

  Father Kerrigan took a mouthful down and leaned back with a sigh. Hamid said anxiously, 'Are you all right, Father?'

  The old man opened his eyes and grinned. 'Let's just say I'm not as young as I was, but the pills Tve taken start acting straight away. I'll make it The luck of the Irish.'

  The mug came round in turn and when it reached Drummond, he swallowed the hot tea gratefully. Hamid produced a couple of cheroots from one of his breast pockets and they lit them and moved away from the others, looking back down the track into the snow.

  The old man doesn't look too good,' Drummond said. 'How long till we reach the monastery?'

  'Maybe three hours,' Hamid said. 'It afl depends on the state of the track.'

  Tve been thinking,' Drummond said..What guarantee have we got that there will be anyone there when we do reach the place? It could have fallen into disuse years ago. There are ruined monasteries all over the mountains, you know that as well as I do.'

  'At least we'll find some sort of shelter,' Hamid said. 'And that's something we're going to need just as soon as we can find it. It's no use pretending the old man or Janet and the child, for that matter, can stand much of this sort of thing.'

  They moved back to the others and Father Kerrigan got to his feet. Whatever he had taken had certainly had a miraculous effect and he smiled, cheeks slightly flushed.

  Tm ready when you are.'

  Hamid helped him into the saddle, Drummond passed the boy up to Janet and they moved on, skirting the base of the great face of rock slabs.

  Over the years, the track had been marked by pilgrims placing their stones on conical cairns which marked quarter-mile intervals and these were still clearly visible in the snow.

  An hour later, the track turned into a narrow ravine that slanted up into the rock. It was choked with boulders and loose stones, an indication of years of neglect.

  Hamid took the lead, holding Father Kerrigan's horse by the bridle and Drummond did the same for Janet. He was soon tired and his arm ached with the strain of holding in the unwilling horse. He constantly slipped on the snow, sending loose stones rattling through the maze of boulders below.

  Once or twice when they paused, he looked up at

  Janet and was shocked at the weariness in her eyes. Somehow she managed to smile and he smiled back.

  Half an hour later they emerged from the ravine on to a ledge perhaps forty feet across that slanted upwards to the left, jutting out from the cliff face.

  Hamid turned, still holding on to the bridle of the old man's horse. 'Everyone all right?'

  Drummond glanced up at Janet and she nodded. 'Fine. Keep going.'

  The ledge lifted steeply, following the curve of the wall and a sea of swirling snow cloaked the valley below. Drummond followed Hamid and Father Kerrigan, holding the horse as close in to the wall as possible.

  And then the ledge narrowed until there hardly seemed room for man and animal together. He pushed forward frantically and came out on the edge of a great plateau.

  Beyond them, the ultimate peaks of the mountains stabbed into the sky and great sterile valleys ran between, cutting their way through to the other side.

  'The main plateau,' Hamid shouted above the wind. "The monastery can't be very far away. We'll keep on going.'

  It was cold at that height, very cold. No more snow fell, but the wind blew harder and harder until it cut through their clothing, whipping their bruised bodies with cold fingers and the child started to cry.

  Janet held him close in her arms and Drummond took the reins of the horse, pulling it forward and then they moved over the crest of a small hill and paused.

  Below them was a great natural arena into which many valleys spilled, and squarely in the entrance of one of them stood the monastery of Ladong Gompa. Hamid urged Father Kerrigan's mount forward with a savage cry and Drummond went after him.

  The monastery walls had been painted red, green and black to signify the nature of the order, but the colours had faded with the years. It was of no great size and had a bleak, deserted look about it. There was no encircling outer wall, a usual feature of larger establishments, and the entrance was at the top of several steps, protected against the weather by a stone porch.

  Snow had drifted in an unbroken line across the steps and a chain hung through a hole high in the wall, jingling faintly as it swung in the wind. When Hamid pulled hard on it, a bell rang hollowly somewhere inside and they waited as its brazen sound died.

  After a while, they heard a rattle of wooden clogs on stone and a metallic rasping as bolts were withdrawn. The door swung back to reveal a Buddhist monk in faded yellow robes. He showed no particular surprise and came forward at once to give his hand to Father Kerrigan as the old man stumbled up the steps. Drum-mond held Kerim until Janet had dismounted, then handed him to her and she followed Father Kerrigan.

  Another monk, a younger man, came down the steps and Hamid said, 'What about the horses?'

  Like the other one, the young man did not speak, but motioned them to follow him and when he tucked his robe into his girdle so that it didn't trail in the snow, Drummond saw that his feet were bare.

  There was an enclosed courtyard at the rear. They waited at the gate and after a while it was opened from inside and they moved in. There were the usual stables and a young novice took the horses from them and they followed the other monk into the monastery.

  They walked along a narrow, stone-flagged corridor and entered a large, poorly-furnished room at the far end with a fire of logs burning on a large stone hearth.

  Janet was sitting by the fire, Kerim nursed in her arms, while Father Kerrigan sat on a bench by a large wooden table, engaged in animated conversation in English with a much older monk in a yellow, conical hat with ear flaps.

  Father Kerrigan got to his feet and the monk rose with him. 'Major Hamid and Mr. Drummond.' He made the introductions in English. 'This is the Abbot of Ladong Gompa. I've been giving him a brief account of our misfortunes. Apparently they still get a few pilgrims across during the summer. Lucky for us, eh?'

  'I suppose we're pilgrims in a sense,' Drummond said. 'Pilgrims of hope.'

  The Abbot smiled. Tve been explaining to Father Kerrigan that the other members of our order here are under a strict vow of silence. Plea.se accept that they mean no discourtesy."

  His English was slightly stilted and technically excellent, but was delivered in the grave, expressionless tons of a man who did not use his voice often.

  'Can we stay here for a while?' Drummond said.

  'As long as you wish.'

  'Has Father Kerrigan told you that we are being followed by Communist troops?'

  The Abbot nodded. 'So
und travels great distances at this height. We could hear your party coming when you were still crossing the main plateau. There will be ample warning. I will have food sent to you and then blankets. I suggest you all try to get some sleep.'

  'And that's the most sensible thing I've heard ia a long time,' Drummond said.

  'I shall pray for your continuing good fortune.'

  The Abbot left the room. Hot food was brought to them, steaming in a great copper bowl, and afterwards blankets.

  Drummond draped one over his shoulders and Hamid spread the map out on the table. 'Where do we go from here?'

  Hamid ran his finger along another valley, following the track over the top and down the other side of the mountain. 'About fifteen miles to the Indian border from here, that's all.'

  Drummond looked across to where Father Kerrigan and Janet were already asleep in front of the fire wrapped in their blankets, Kerim between them.

  'Do you think they can make it?'

  They'll have to. We don't have any choice..

  He lay down on the floor beside the others, pulling his blanket over his head, and Drummond stayed at the table. It was peaceful, quiet after the storm, the regular breathing of the sleepers rising and falling gently and after a while he rested his head in his arms and slept

  He awakened suddenly, yawned and stretched his arms so that the blanket fell from him. As he bent down to retrieve it he became aware that the Abbot was standing just inside the door watching him.

  'How long have I been asleep?'

  The Abbot came forward and sat on the bench on the other side of the table. 'About three hours. It is almost night.'

  Drummond glanced across at the others sleeping quietly beside the fire. 'They're very tired. They've been through a great deal.'

  The Abbot nodded and brooded quietly, face expressionless and calm as the firelight played across it. Drummond felt completely rested and wide awake, but his feet pained him and the toes on his right foot were numb and lifeless.

  He fumbled half-heartedly with the laces of his com- bat boots, but the knots were swollen and tightened by the constant damp of the past two days and he finally gave up trying.

  'It would interest me to know what you think of my country," the Abbot said.

  'Frankly, I can't get out fast enough. Fve seen enough of places like this, smoke rising from burning cities? refugees on the move.'

  'But you came by choice in the first, place, did you not?'

  'I once read somewhere that life is action and passion,' Drummond said. That if a man failed to take part in it, he wasn't really living.'

  He absentmindedly banged his right foot against the floor in an endeavour to restore the circulation and the Abbot said,.A mistake to take that too literally. It was said by a man who, having experienced the horrors of war, devoted himself to the rule of law for the rest of Ms life.'

  The Abbot crossed the floor and opened a pair of large wooden shutters revealing the night and the mountains. Drummond joined him on a small stone terrace.

  It was very cold and he pulled his blanket more closely about him and shivered. During the past few days, his body had been alternately wet and frozen so many times, that he was now at a stage where his resistance was at a very low ebb.

  Night was beginning to fall, cold and clear with great scatterings of stars, brilliant and luminous, strung away across the peaks. As he looked, it darkened quickly from east to west and the stars were blotted out before his eyes as though someone moved among them quickly, snuffing them out between finger and thumb.

  'It will snow very heavily soon,' the Abbot said.

  A small wind lifted the hair on Dnimmond's head as it skidded round tlie corner of the building. Gradually, the shadow moved across the night sky until there were no more stars to be seen and the wind howled mournfully as it sped down the valleys towards them.

  'It isn't a night I'd like to be out in.'

  The Abbot lifted a hand, motioning him to silence. Drummond strained his ears, but heard nothing. He was about to speak when quite suddenly, as the wind lifted, there was a faint jingling sound.

  They are coming,' the Abbot said simply.

  'Are you sure?'

  The Abbot nodded. 'Crossing the main plateau..

  .I¯ there anywhere we could hide?'

  The Abbot shook his head. This is a small place, not like some. As they are looking for you, they will search thoroughly.'

  Drummond dropped his blanket, moved to the fireplace and shook the others awake quickly.

  Hamid sat up at once. 'What is it? Trouble?.

  Drummond nodded. 'We're about to have company. We'll have to get moving again, I'm afraid.'

  'I will have your horses made ready,' the Abbot said and he hurried out

  As Father Kerrigan and Janet got to their feet, Hamid and Drummond moved across to the shutters. Hamid opened one and peered out. He closed it, his face grim. 'It's snowing again. How long are we going to last in the open on a night like this?'

  Drummond turned to Father Kerrigan and Janet, standing by the fire. 'If we stay, Cheung will catch us, there's no doubt of that He'll take this place apart looking for a hiding place.'

  That's all right, Jack,' Father Kerrigan said in a tired voice. 'It isn't your fault.

  The door opened and the Abbot came in with one of the monks, bundles of sheepskins in their arms. 'A sheepskin coat for each of you. Our shepherds find them very useful at this time of the year.'

  As they pulled them on, Hamid said urgently, 'Is there anywhere we can go, anywhere at all? We won't last long on a night like this.'

  'I think I can help you,' the Abbot said. Ill show you as you leave..

  Kerim was still asleep. Janet lilted Mm gently in her arms and the Abbot led the way along the dark corridor to the courtyard at the rear.

  A monk brought the horses forward and helped Father Kerrigan and Janet into the saddle. They all crossed to the gate and the Abbot moved outside with them.

  He pointed to the valley beyond. 'This is the best way, the only way. Eight miles and you're through to the other side of the mountain. You'll find a shepherd's hut at the end with wood for a fire, a lantern, everything you need. From there into the valley is easy. Five miles from the mountain and you will come to an Indian border post.

  Powdery snowflakes were already beginnut^ to stick to their sheepskins as the small cavalcade moved away, Hamid leading Janet's horse, Father Kerrigan behind.

  "Thanks for everything,' Drummond said.

  The wind lifted snow around his legs as he walked away and the Abbot called quietly, 'Do not worry, my friend. You will reach India.'

  The snow began to fall steadily till it filled the night and they were alone with it

  As they advanced towards the end of the narrow valley, the going became heavier and Drummond's feet sank ankle-deep into the snow. He walked with his head bowed against the wind, alone with his thoughts, and when a sharp stab of pain cut into his face, he winced and came to a halt.

  To his surprise, he found that he was knee-deep in snow. When he wrenched off a mitten and touched his face, he felt caked snow and ice on his cheeks and his flesh had split in several places. He frowned and pulled on his mitten, and when he looked up saw that he was alone.

  "The wind was whipping the snow into a frenzy and it spun around his head and sliced at his cheeks, until his face was so numb he could feel no pain.

  How long since they had left the monastery? An hoar? Two hours? There was no knowing, and as a horse whinnied somewhere near at hand he blundered forward.

  He peered down at the ground and saw great slurred hoofprints leading away through the snow and stumbled forward, half-bent so that he could follow them.

  Time had stopped and his frozen mind had difficulty ia thinking what to do next. The wind was howling like a lost thing and he was completely covered with frozen snow until he no longer resembled an ordinary man. He fell several times, and each time lay in the snow for a little longer before getting
up.

  A terrible iron band settled around his chest and he seemed to be struggling for breath. Again he heard the whinny of a horse and then it appeared from the whirling darkness, rearing up above his head, Father Kerrigan falling over the hindquarters and knocking him to the ground.

  As Drummond sat up, the wind carried the sound of the horse's desperate cry and there was a coldness sweeping into his face, a sense of space, of limitless distance. He crawled forward, feeling the ground ia front of him and then Ms hand touched nothing but air.

  He crawled backwards, turned and went back to the old man. Father Kerrigan was on his hands and knees like an animal, his body coated with snow, and Drum-mond heaved him to Ms feet and they staggered forward.