Luca’s torch flashed underneath her. The ground was close. Releasing her grip, she leaped back from the rope, landing heavily on the ground. For a moment she remained motionless, trying to get her bearings.
‘OK,’ she shouted, her voice echoing up the closed rock walls. In the single beam of the light they could see her staring up at them, the same look of uncertainty in her eyes. Without another word, Luca pulled the torch away, pitching the crack into absolute darkness. They heard Babu cry out before the sound was quickly muffled by Shara’s gloved hand.
Luca began moving forward with his head bent low, swinging the beam of the torch from side to side across the broken ground.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Bill whispered.
‘Trying to stop those bastards,’ he said and, squatting down on the ground, picked up two rocks lying by the edge of the crack. They were each the size of a man’s head. Holding one under each arm, he ran to the edge of the cliff to where he had seen the soldiers climbing. Dropping one by his feet, he sent the other hurtling down the rock-face. It clattered down, splintering with each turn, before the pieces spun off, away from the cliff.
Luca had just picked up the next one when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an arm appear over the edge of the cliff, just a few feet to his right. He swivelled round as a massive Chinese soldier pulled himself over the lip and rolled on to the ground beside him. The soldier was panting hard, his face bathed in sweat.
Luca stared down, a terrible rage rising within him. He felt his cheeks flush with heat and adrenaline pump into his chest. He was not going to let them take the boy.
With an animal sound, he raised the rock above his head with both hands, ready to crash it down on the soldier’s face. Dazed by the glare of the head-torch, the soldier made no attempt to move, staring up in mute horror as Luca towered above him.
‘Luca!’
Bill screamed his name with all his strength.
Luca stopped, fists white from the tightness of his grip. He hesitated, then slowly turned towards Bill.
‘Don’t do it, Luca,’ he shouted.
From behind there was a loud metallic click. A second soldier had crawled over the edge of the cliff a few metres further to the right. He was breathing hard like the one before him but this time there was a rifle in his hands. It was pointing directly at Luca.
The soldier slowly clambered to his feet, the muzzle of his rifle dipping in the process. He stepped closer, catching his breath, before shouting an order in Mandarin. Luca didn’t understand but let the rock fall from his grasp and stepped back a pace.
The first soldier dragged himself up and swung his own rifle off his shoulder, loading a round into the chamber. His brown eyes were round with shock, and Luca could see his chest still rising and falling in double-time. A moment later both soldiers stepped forward, their rifles trained on Luca’s forehead.
A few paces further back, Bill already had his hands up. His eyes remained fixed on the ground where the coil of rope was still wrapped around the rock, feeding down into the gap below. The soldiers would see it. They would discover Shara and Babu. Using the toe of his boot, he dug his foot into the loop of the quick-release knot and pulled. Just as the rope whizzed round the boulder, he stepped forward, waving his hands to distract them.
‘What do you want with us?’ he shouted.
Both soldiers instinctively swivelled towards him, fingers curling around the triggers.
‘Stay back,’ Chen said in a thick Chinese accent. He advanced a pace while the other man remained at a distance, covering them.
‘Where boy?’ Chen asked.
Luca remained silent. Chen’s eyes darted between them.
‘Where boy?’ he repeated, jerking his rifle towards Luca’s chest.
‘There is no boy,’ Luca said angrily. ‘We’re climbers.’
Chen stared into his eyes for several seconds. Then he slowly took in their surroundings, eyes scanning every inch of the ground. He walked in a semi-circle around them, taking in the two rucksacks lying at their feet and the flat ground above the cliff. There was no other place to hide.
‘Then you tell Captain,’ he said, signalling with a nod towards the cliff edge.
He turned and barked an order in Mandarin to the second soldier who immediately threw off his rucksack and pulled out a second, longer rope. He moved forward, looping it around the same heavy boulder Bill had used on the edge of the crack.
Bill and Luca exchanged glances but the soldier continued tying off the rope, oblivious to what lay just beneath him in the shadows. He drew up next to the cliff edge, throwing the coils over.
‘If we’re going to abseil off there, we’re going to need more than one rope,’ Bill said, gesturing to the rucksack at his feet.
Chen stared at him for a moment, then nodded his consent. As Bill folded back the top of the rucksack, he saw the big soldier’s grip tighten on the rifle, taking no chances.
‘Easy,’ Bill said, moving with exaggerated slowness. ‘Easy. We’re not going to cause any trouble.’
He handed their rope over to the soldier, then moved back a few paces so that he was shoulder to shoulder with Luca.
‘Take it easy, Luca,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’
Luca stared directly ahead, watching every movement the soldiers made.
‘They’re trapped in there,’ he breathed, glancing sidelong towards the crack. ‘We’ve got to think of something. And fast.’
Chapter 52
Norbu sprinted down the corridor, the clatter of his sandals echoing noisily behind him. In one hand he held a burning torch which trailed black smoke. His breath came in long choking sobs.
He had killed Drang. Killed another human being!
The full horror of the notion welled up inside him, choking him with guilt. He would be expelled from the order, left to wander in the wilderness as Geltang’s gates were slammed shut behind him.
He gasped, only managing to half-fill his lungs in panic. He could feel hysteria growing inside him with each door he passed and stairway he descended. His vision started to close in, becoming a circular tunnel of light surrounded by inky blackness. It was dizzying. His shoulder crashed into the wall beside him, sending him staggering off balance, but still his legs continued pounding over the flagstones. They felt numb and detached, as if they belonged to another person entirely.
He had to get to him, to tell him what he had done.
‘Abbot!’ he cried out. ‘Please . . . Abbot!’
The Perfect Life. That’s what Rega had said.
Just ahead he saw the chain and the trapdoor. With a frantic straining of his arms, he pulled up the heavy wooden door and scampered down the steps, letting the door slam shut behind him. The air below was still; the only sound his own panicked breathing. Norbu waved the torch ahead of him as he edged down the tunnel, directing its orange glow across the murals. Terrible images leaped out at him, with open mouths and fangs, clawing to touch him.
‘A . . . A . . . Abbot . . .’ Norbu stammered, eyes wide with fear. ‘Abbot!’
‘My child, I am here.’
At the sound of the Abbot’s voice, Norbu swivelled his head to face the end of the tunnel. He lunged forward, swinging the torch from side to side, hunting in the darkness. There was a statue shimmering up ahead and Norbu raced towards it, nearly toppling it from its plinth.
Behind it a figure was seated in an alcove, bound by leather straps. As the flames of the torch leaped higher, a mop of hair fell back to reveal pale, unfocused eyes. The apparition’s face remained set for a moment, then slowly creased into an expression of infinite pain. The whole face was hollow, tortured; it was as if he was staring straight into the naked soul of the man. Norbu screamed, falling back against the statue and waving the torch frantically to ward off the sight.
‘Here, child,’ the Abbot called, louder now. ‘I am here.’
Norbu twisted round and raced back along the tunnel. More statues, more rec
esses. As he hurried past them, the light revealed yet more figures, trussed up in the darkness. They looked up one by one, their eyes staring vacantly at the sudden disturbance to their endless days.
The Abbot was in the last but one alcove. Straps had been bound across his body with the buckles pulled unnaturally tight, forcing his back into a painful arch. His hands were tied with rope in front of him, with the remaining coils looped round his ankles to prevent him moving his legs. Despite it all, his expression was calm. He looked up at Norbu, his forehead creasing in concern.
‘My dear child, calm yourself,’ he said, his voice steady and soothing. ‘Whatever has happened, we will make amends.’
Norbu crashed down on to his knees, letting the torch drop by his side so that sparks were dashed across the stone floor. He put his head on to the Abbot’s chest and wept openly.
‘I have . . . killed a man!’ he choked out, the strength of his emotions nearly winding him. ‘I . . . didn’t mean to . . . but he kept on . . .’
The Abbot waited, ignoring the pain caused by the boy’s weight leaning against him. Norbu drew in one shuddering breath, then another, and gradually his crying eased. He raised his head, eyes red from tears, and the Abbot smiled.
‘Come, untie me, young Norbu,’ he said. ‘We must not let the fear take control of us. Everything will be well.’
Norbu nodded hesitantly then reached up to the Abbot’s shoulder, unclipping the first of the leather straps with shaking hands. He unwound them from the Abbot’s frail body, looping them back over themselves with each turn. Eventually, the Abbot’s body was released and he exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders fall back into their natural position. Then he reached forward himself, using the torch flame to eat through the thick woven rope around his wrists. It smouldered and blackened before finally pulling apart. With a final kick, the Abbot freed himself and got stiffly to his feet, using Norbu for support.
‘Well done indeed,’ he said, his arm draped over his aide’s shoulder. ‘Only in the most adverse situations do we ever truly know ourselves. And you have shown great courage.’
Norbu bit his lip, the horror beginning to drain from his face.
‘Now, do you have the strength to help an old man one last time?’ the Abbot continued. ‘We must find Dorje and the rest of the elders. Once they hear me speak, we will restore order to Geltang and quell this panic Rega has created.’
The Abbot hobbled forward with Norbu at his side, their shoulders pressed together in the tight confines of the corridor. With their combined strength, they heaved open the trapdoor and slowly clambered out into the brightly lit corridor above.
‘Rega has the entire order in the Great Temple. I saw him there myself,’ Norbu explained. ‘He has the Dharmachakra and was . . .’ His voice faded into silence and his expression suddenly froze. He was staring over the Abbot’s shoulder.
‘What is it, my child?’ the Abbot asked, turning to follow the direction of his gaze.
From the shadows behind the last torch a nightmare figure emerged, striding towards them. The entire top half of its body was naked, revealing brawny slab-like muscles across its abdomen. The skin was red and shining, flaked in patches stretched across the shoulders and thickset neck. Then, as it stepped further into the light, the hideous face of Drang emerged.
Both the Abbot and Norbu froze, paralysed by what they saw. The entire right side of his face was charred black, with raw flesh striped across the neckline. His right eye looked too big for the socket as the delicate skin around it had burned away. From within the exposed orbit, the damaged eye stared at them with violent hatred.
With a mighty swing of his arm, Drang knocked Norbu clean off his feet. The boy’s body arched in mid-air, before crashing down on top the flagstones with a sickening slap. He lay absolutely still as Drang swung back towards the Abbot, his singed flesh only inches from the old man’s face.
‘Rega will punish you for this,’ he seethed, and before the Abbot could even speak, he had grabbed him by the shoulder of his robes, dragging him back along the corridor to the Great Temple and the judgement that awaited him.
Chapter 53
Luca pulled the abseiling rope from his harness and turned around to find four more soldiers standing at the base of the cliff. Two of them had their rifles trained on him, covering him from a distance, while the others dragged a body through the snow by the shoulder straps of its webbing. They were heading for a small semi-circle of tents at the edge of the Kooms.
The heels of the dead soldier’s boots ploughed grooves in the deep snow and Luca followed, trying to stop himself from staring at the man’s face. His neck lolled unnaturally to one side and the entire top section of his head had caved in from the impact of a fall. As they approached the first of the tents, the body was carefully laid next to another, before the soldiers swiftly assembled two collapsible shovels and began piling snow over them both.
Bill and Luca were shunted forward towards the centre of the campsite. A single figure was standing there, waiting, the epaulettes on his shoulder glimmering gold in the moonlight.
As the big soldier from the cliff approached him, the figure listened carefully to what he was saying. Then he reached into his trouser pocket and the sudden flare of a cigarette lighter briefly illuminated the man’s face. It was ashen, with black eyes that stared at them without a trace of emotion.
The figure came closer, halting in the snow just in front of Bill and Luca. As he drew the smoke into his lungs, the tip of the cigar-ette glowed in the darkness.
‘I offer you one chance. Give me the boy and I will release the pair of you.’
The man’s voice was light, almost conversational. Both Bill and Luca remained silent.
‘The boy,’ the figure repeated.
Zhu then turned to Chen, standing just to his right.
‘Make them understand,’ he said in Mandarin.
Chen inhaled slowly, wishing the captain had chosen another of the soldiers standing nearby. An image of the Westerner standing over him with a rock raised above his head flashed through his mind. Would the captain have hesitated like that? Would the captain have spared his life?
Chen stepped forward, halting just in front of Luca. The Westerner was staring up at him, eyes shining with a mixture of arrogance and defiance. From that single look Chen sensed that he would not back down, that he wouldn’t be intimidated by a few simple punches or threats. This was going to go all the way.
He hesitated, his hands balling into fists.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Zhu snapped from behind him.
With a sudden twist of his body, Chen brought his hand whipping across Luca’s face. His head jerked backwards with the force of the blow.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Bill shouted, clambering to his feet. Immediately one of the soldiers behind him grabbed him by his shoulders while another rammed the butt of his rifle into the back of his knees, collapsing him into the snow. Bill clenched his jaw in pain as the scars across his thigh split open once again.
‘We’re British Nationals,’ he said, grimacing. ‘You’ve no right to do this.’
Zhu didn’t respond, signalling instead for Chen to continue. With a jab of his arm, he sent his fist crashing into the bridge of Luca’s nose. There was a sharp crack and Luca’s head snapped backwards. He groaned in pain then slowly raised his head again, spitting out a thick string of blood into the snow in front of him.
‘The boy,’ Zhu repeated. ‘I want the boy.’
Luca stared up at him, blood oozing out between his teeth.
‘Fucking coward,’ he said, spitting the words out.
Zhu inhaled on his cigarette, his expression unchanged. Then, with a brief nod of his head, he motioned for Chen to continue. Chen lashed out with both fists, thudding them down on to Luca’s head and chest. He did it again, and again, until sweat ran from his temples and the skin across his knuckles tore open. His eyes were half-shut as frustration boiled into a terrible anger. If
only the Westerner would say something, he could stop. All he had to do was talk.
Blows rained down on Luca’s head.
‘Talk!’ Chen bellowed in Mandarin. ‘Just fucking talk!’
Luca collapsed back on to the snow, his body limp. Two more soldiers moved forward to prop him on to his knees, but Luca’s whole body swayed and his head lolled forward. Bill reached out an arm to steady him.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he murmured, taking in the terrible damage to Luca’s face. The skin above his right eye had split, weeping blood down his cheek and neck. The other cheek was already swelling, the eye above it starting to close. Bill turned to stare directly at Chen.
‘You animal,’ he hissed.
Chen stepped backwards. With his hands still clenched into fists, he stared down at the Westerner’s face. He watched the blood slowly ooze from it and a wave of guilt washed over him. All the energy seemed to drain from his body. His shoulders sagged with self-disgust. He had nearly beaten the Westerner to death with his bare hands.
Zhu stepped closer, leaning over Luca. He stubbed the cigarette out, pressing it down into the snow with the toe of his boot.
‘There are only a few hours left till dawn and my patience is running out. I am going to ask you for the last time: where is the boy?’
Luca blinked, the pounding at his temples searing right across his forehead. The figure before him swam in and out of focus and he could hear the sound of his own breathing. Eventually he shook his head.
‘No.’
There was silence as the word resonated through the still air. Chen shut his eyes, leaning his head back towards the sky. He knew what was coming. He wanted to reach across and grab hold of the Westerner, tell him to say something! Say anything! They had no idea who they were dealing with.
Zhu unclipped the pistol from the side of his belt. With a sharp click he pulled back the slider, chambering the first round and pushing off the safety. Then he slowly raised the pistol level with Bill’s head, the sights hovering just an inch from the end of his nose.
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