Turk Madden slid down, leveled off, and came in fast, skimming the water lightly. He brushed the low waves, brushed them lightly again, and then the ship took the water smoothly and he taxied in toward another lonely, lost, and ruined town.
“This country,” Ryan said, “must have been quite a place at one time!”
Madden nodded. “Hear about that pyramid they found in Shensi? Over fifteen hundred feet high. The biggest one in Egypt is only a third of that height, and about a third of the baseline. Nobody knows anything about it. Hell, they’ll find there was civilization in China six thousand years ago before they are through!
“There’s been almost no excavation there, and none in Shensi. All we know of Chinese civilization is what we can see and read, and that’s old enough. Somebody should do some excavating in Central Asia, and in extreme western China.
“Nobody knows much about Tibet above ground, or Sinkiang, or Turkestan, so how can they figure on the ancient history?”
When the ship was anchored, Turk got out on a pier and took a rifle with him. “I’ll take Shan Bao and Miss Doone,” he said. “Stick with the ship, Sparrow. Later, we’ll leave Shan an’ you an’ me will have a look-see. Okay?”
Ryan nodded. Bekart was coming out of it. “Lie still, sweetheart,” Ryan said, “or that slap you got on the noggin will seem like a love tap.” He looked up at Turk. “Think I’ll interrogate this guy. Maybe he’ll talk.”
“Better wait until we see this ship,” Madden advised. “I’ve got an idea.”
He paused when they reached the shore. Rows of ancient buildings of time-blackened stones lined the water’s edge. Here, too, some of them were built on stone pilings over the water, evidently as a means of defense. But the city had outgrown what was evidently merely a beginning and had gone ashore, and crawled slowly around the lake. Two mountain streams flowed into the lake, which had only a very narrow visible outlet to the south.
The sky was gray and unbroken by any rift in the clouds. The air was damp, and there was a faint, musty smell. Their footsteps echoed hollowly so Turk was glad when they emerged from the age-blackened walls and started up the scarred slope of the hill.
The bomber lay on its belly some fifty yards away, a dark spot on the white snow. No landing gear was down, but wings and props were intact. Turk glanced at Raemy. “I’d better look first,” he suggested.
Her eyes flickered, frightened. “Please. Would you?”
His feet crunched on the thin snow. Here and there the wind had revealed the black rock and gravel surface of the plateau. No vegetation could be seen. The ship looked lost and alone, and his heart began to pound as he drew near. He turned as his hand touched the door and glanced back.
Raemy stood on the snow, a silent, lonely figure. She was tall and stood well up to him when they were together, but now she looked forlorn and very small. “Look!” Shan pointed.
Turk’s eyes followed the gloved finger. The cowl of the nearest engine was bullet-riddled. He felt his scalp tighten, and his eyes swept the fallen ship. Left motor shot out, tail assembly shot to shreds. The guy had performed a minor miracle to get down in one piece.
He pulled the door open. It came so easily he almost lost his balance. He peered within. It was dark and empty, with the chill of something long lifeless.
It had been looted of everything portable. If the crew had been alive when they landed, they were gone now. Perhaps to death or captivity. The steel box was missing, and there were dark stains on the instrument panel, the altimeter smashed by a bullet.
Raemy was walking toward the ship. Madden shook his head at her. “No sign of anybody, but the ship was shot down.”
“Shot down?” Her eyes questioned him. “By the Japanese?”
“There were no Japanese in this area. It must have been someone else.”
Her face looked old and tired. She kicked her toe into the crusted snow. “Travis?” she asked. “He flew as fighter escort—”
“Who knows? He acted strange, but it could be something else.”
“Are…any of them—”
“No.” He took her by the arm. “Want to look? I think the copilot was hurt. There’s some blood.”
Shan Bao muttered, and Turk turned. Shan was pointing at a crude cairn of stones. Raemy stumbled toward it, and they followed. Turk’s face was somber, yet when he saw the name he felt a wave of relief go over him. Scratched crudely on a stone slab atop the cairn were the words:
WILLIAM A. LYTE, LIEUT., A.A.F. KILLED OCTOBER 9, 19
The date was incomplete. “Interrupted,” Turk said, “by somebody, or something. Lyte was the copilot.”
“I should be sorry,” Raemy said, “but somehow I can only be glad it isn’t Bob.”
When they returned to the lake Ryan was waiting. “Found a building that’s intact,” he said, “a good hideout.”
“We’ll make this our base,” Madden said. “From here on we work on the ground all we can. Save gas and attract less attention. Shan can remain with the ship. We’ll go, Ryan.”
“And I,” Raemy told him.
Madden hesitated. Then he shrugged, smiling at her. “All right, but you’re inviting the risk and will have to take the consequences. From here on it will be very dangerous.”
“I know.”
She spoke quietly and seriously, and Turk looked at her again and was convinced. Ryan walked back inside, and Raemy stood there beside Madden, staring out over the lake.
“Madden,” she asked suddenly, “how do you suppose he was shot down?”
Turk hesitated. “There’s no answer to that. We’ve seen one or maybe more planes. Bekart said he couldn’t identify the one he saw. Well, I couldn’t either. They may have shot your brother down.”
Raemy looked at him. “If you think anything else, tell me.”
“It’s only a hunch, and I’ve no motive to ascribe.”
“You mean Travis?” She looked at Turk seriously.
“Well, it does seem strange, I think, that he should do everything to keep us from landing. Almost as if he knew what we would find.”
“Yes, I thought of that. But why would he do it?”
That made Turk hesitate. Raemy and her brother were both wealthy. With Bob Doone dead, all the wealth was hers. Then, if she should marry, and if after awhile she died…
“I’ve no idea,” Turk replied.
DAWN FOUND THEM, each carrying a rucksack and rifle, heading down the vague and ancient trail that led through the ruined city. Turk walked in the lead, followed by Raemy. Behind her was Sparrow Ryan.
The light was cold and gray, and the path mounted, skirting the side of the mountain, weaving along through canyons and up steep mountainsides. With every mile the way became steeper and the terrain more rugged. Once they heard a plane and hid, waiting until the sound died away. It was below the clouds from the sound, but it did not fly over them.
Ahead of them the canyon ended suddenly in a wide pool enclosed by a grove of willows and poplar. Beyond the grove green grass waved in a wide field!
They halted under the trees. Before them lay a long and very deep canyon at the end of which loomed the massive towers of an ancient monastery, or what appeared to be such. Nearby, several men worked over an irrigation ditch.
The monastery occupied the whole end of the valley, and buildings were constructed halfway up the steep sides at that end. Suddenly a man on horseback rode from the trees on the far side and neared the workers. He shouted angrily at one, and as the man straightened to reply the horseman felled him with a blow from the butt of a whip.
“Rough, isn’t he?” Ryan whispered.
“Wait! One of the men is coming this way.”
One of the workmen, carrying a crude wooden shovel, walked slowly toward them. Turk’s eyes narrowed. “A white man! If that’s your brother,” he whispered to Raemy, “don’t run out there! Everything depends on care now.”
The man plodded to a sluice gate and lifted it to let water into a ditch. As he
leaned over, Turk spoke. “Don’t look up. If you know English, nod your head.”
The man jerked as if shot at the sound of Turk’s voice. He rested his hands on the gate, then he nodded.
“Are you from the American plane on the plateau?”
“Russky,” he said. His voice carried over the few yards of water. “Nine Yanks here. Three from that plane.”
Raemy repressed a gasp and Turk’s grip shut down hard on her arm. “You are prisoners?”
“Slaves. There are many of us. Most are Chinese. Can you help us?”
“Yes, but be careful! You work here every day?”
“Today and tomorrow. After tomorrow in a valley six miles east. There will be thirty white men.”
The horseman had turned and was watching the man at the gate. “Don’t take chances. Is the American named Doone with you?”
“Young is here. Doone is at the Domed House. I will see him tonight in prison.”
“Tell him we have come for him. Tell him we’ll find a way to help. Can we talk to one in command here?”
“No!” he said violently. “That would be fatal! She is a fiend!”
The horseman had started toward them, but was still some way off. “What are the planes?”
“There are five of them, three fighters and two transports. Be careful, I go.” The man closed the gate and shouldered his shovel.
Turk drew back and they retreated into the canyon. “You heard,” he said briefly. “Your brother’s alive. We’ve no idea what shape he’s in. If they’ve a valley like that, with so many slaves, they must have a considerable force themselves.”
“But planes?” Ryan protested. “This is fantastic!”
“Why? Some of them undoubtedly learned to fly with the Chinese. Some of the flyers might be Chinese who joined them.”
“How could anyone dream of such a place?” Raemy exclaimed.
“We’ve known for years,” Turk said, “that Tibet had monasteries full of warlike monks. We’ve known that the Lolo tribesmen kept slaves, and not long ago the Army sent men among them to search for American flyers. But if any were held as slaves you can be sure they were well hidden before the Army men got there! These Ngoloks are infinitely worse than the Lolos!”
Shan Bao met them at the landing. He spoke to Madden in Mandarin.
“You take it easy,” Turk said. “Shan wants to show me something.”
Shan led the way to a temple built partly over the water. Part of the wall on the lakeward side was missing, and inside almost half the space was water. Evidently from the iron rings, boats had once been kept there. It was a perfect hangar for the amphibian, even to a ramp leading into the water.
When the ship was concealed, Turk turned to Ryan. “Tomorrow you and I hit that valley!” He glanced at Raemy. “This time you stay here. Some of this won’t be pretty to watch!”
She started to protest, but when her eyes locked with his she was still. In the morning when the two started off at daybreak, she looked at him. “Be careful won’t you?”
“Of Bob? Don’t worry, he’ll be all right.”
“I mean you!” she said, her chin lifting.
Turk looked around at her and she flushed. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll be careful!”
FOR AN HOUR they watched the valley. Thirty-two prisoners worked there, guarded by seven men. All were armed, four of them with rifles.
“The first one will be that guard in the green coat,” Turk said. “I’ll take him.”
The guard was a big man, and he looked rugged. He moved toward the edge of the brush, and like a wraith, Turk rose behind him. He struck the guard on the small of the back with his right fist, shooting the midsection of his body forward as his left forearm slid across the guard’s throat. Off balance by the blow to the base of the spine, the guard was pulled back sharply. Then Turk’s right arm slipped under the guard’s right armpit and his hand clasped the back of the guard’s head. With his left hand Turk grabbed his own right forearm. Then he jerked back with his left forearm and pushed with his right hand.
The guard struggled, kicked, and tried to claw madly at Turk’s iron grip, but the pressure on his windpipe was too great. Turk held the pressure for a full minute while Ryan watched the other guards.
The nearest worker had noticed but continued with his labors. Then he moved toward them. “Good show, Yank!” he said. “We’re all primed and ready!” He picked up the fallen man’s rifle, and extracted the ugly knife from the guard’s waistband.
Quickly, he donned the green coat and coolie hat, then started along the line of workmen, whispering in a low voice. One of the other guards sauntered toward him, and as he neared, the Australian wheeled suddenly and slashed with the knife. The guard fell, blood gushing from his slit throat.
The Aussie gave a low whistle, and like a cloud the prisoners wheeled and closed over the remaining guards. The man on the horse who had been riding toward Turk’s waiting place grabbed at his pistol, but Ryan darted from his hiding place and leaped astride of the horse behind him. Together they tumbled from the horse, Ryan on top. He chopped viciously with the barrel of his own pistol, then again.
Ryan got up, wiping sweat from his face. He walked toward the guard Madden had jumped. He glanced at the guard, then up at Madden. “You’re thorough!” he said grimly.
The prisoners crowded around. A tall blond man pushed forward. “I’m Young,” he said. “I was in the ship with Doone. They’ve got him up in the Domed House, questioning him about our cargo. Some strange white man came to the Domed House a while back, and ever since then they’ve been in a dither.”
“We’ll get out of here fast. Those with the rifles fall behind for a rear guard. Ryan, you lead off.”
Young, who had the pistol from the fallen horseman, walked beside Madden. “God, man!” he said. “You can’t guess what it meant to us when we heard you were here. Kalinov told us last night.” Young glanced at Turk. “That cargo of ours seems to excite a lot of people!”
“Ryan’s here for that reason,” Turk said. “I’ve my instructions, too. We’ve got to get that steel box for our government.”
Young shrugged. “Doone’s the only one knows where it is.”
“Give me the dope,” Madden suggested. “What can we expect?”
“There’s at least three thousand men in this monastery. Probably around three hundred modern rifles including twenty or thirty Tokarev semiautomatic rifles. It’s as good a gun as our Garand. Also, they have some Degtyarov light machine guns, all stolen or smuggled out of Russia by agents of these people. The Domed House, which you can identify by shape, is the heart of the place. I’ve told you about the planes. The pilots are Ngoloks.
“They have two flying fields and a couple of emergency fields with a fighter plane located at each. They’ve a leader with brains named Bo Hau. He’s been to China and India and has an education of a sort. Tall, big-shouldered fellow.”
No part of the situation looked good. Only a few of the escaped men were armed, and there was little food available. They could expect determined pursuit within a few hours. Turk fell in beside Ryan. “You stick by the ship with the man with the pistol, I’ll take the four men with rifles.”
“Why not take the plane and knock off one of those emergency fields? Then we’d have rifles and ammunition?”
“And run into a fighter? With this ship of mine? A pursuit ship would fly circles around me! Unless we hit ’em before they got off the ground. Strafe the field—but it would be taking an awful chance!”
“The whole thing is a gamble,” Ryan said. “Don’t worry about Raemy! That gal has nerve!”
Turk turned to a huge red-bearded Scotsman. “You know where the emergency fields are located?”
“Helped build them! One’s about nine miles east in the mountains. Concealed, but impossible to use in bad weather.”
“How long to get to it on foot?”
“Three or four hours, if we’re lucky. It’s pretty rough going.”
/> “All right,” Madden told them. “I’ll keep Young with me. You,” he told the Scotsman, “will lead this party. I’ll give you four hours. Your job is to keep that fighter on the ground. Don’t damage it if you can help it, and shoot anybody who tries to get it off the ground.”
YOUNG WATCHED the rescued prisoners as they turned off into a canyon leading to the mountains. “They’ve got a mighty slim chance!” he said.
Turk nodded. “So have we all. Four men with rifles can make life miserable around any landing field. Knowing the country they have a good chance of getting away with it. The Ngoloks won’t expect them to head that way.” He turned toward Young. “We have one prisoner, your former escort pilot!”
Young’s face went cold. “He shot us down! Never gave us a chance!”
“Why?”
“We never figured that out,” Young admitted. “He’d been very friendly to Doone.”
“Doone ever mention that Bekart had met his sister?”
“Come to think of it, Bekart was with him on leave once.”
“With Bob dead, she’d inherit everything. That may have been it. He could go back, be the sympathetic friend, marry the gal, and then—”
“Ugly mess!” Young stared at the peaks. “Lyte was shot right through the chest. Three-fifties!”
There was no sign of Shan Bao as they drew near the ruined city. Nor any other sign of life and movement. Fear mounting like a tide in his throat, Turk started forward when Shan burst from a building. “He’s gone! I go to hunt for wood, and he got away!”
Turk grabbed Shan’s arm. “Raemy?”
“She gone, too! Also, her gun!”
Turk rushed to the plane. So far as he could see, nothing was disturbed. “Go over it, Shan! Quick!”
He looked at Sparrow. “We’d better have a look. Maybe we can catch them before they’ve gone far.”
The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume Four Page 71