The Forbidden Temple (11 page)

As the guard quickly pulled himself up into a salute and moved forward towards the prisoner, Zhu grabbed the flashlight from his hand.

‘And return his prayer wheel and beads,’ he added.

Zhu signalled to Chen and they moved back down the dark corridor. As Chen fell into step behind him, his eyes following the beam of light passing over the floor ahead, he felt a strange sense of elation. Even after prisoners had given everything, named everyone involved in a suspected plot and many more besides, they were usually left to rot down here. There were no court proceedings, no appeals or transfers. The cell doors were simply slammed shut and the matter closed for all but the unfortunate soul within.

But today was different. Zhu had given a simple order and now the monk was being transferred. Just like that.

As they followed the line of the corridor, Chen’s expression softened. He had heard of the Captain’s reputation and, like everyone else, found his presence in the office unnerving. But when it came down to it, there was obviously more to this man than any of them had suspected.

He cleared his throat, picking his words carefully.

‘Do you think the information will be helpful, sir?’

Zhu continued walking, but after a moment replied over his shoulder.

‘It’s vague, but it might be useful when cross-checked with something else.’

‘Yes, sir.’

They reached the iron security gate at the foot of the main stairwell. Zhu reached up and banged the end of the flashlight against the metal a couple of times, the noise quickly muffled by the concrete walls. From the annexe behind, another guard buzzed them through and they climbed up the wide circular staircase in silence, pausing only by the door to the outside. Chen turned towards Zhu, having mustered the courage to say something more.

‘I think you did the right thing, sir.’

Zhu looked at him, his expression unreadable.

‘I mean, transferring the monk up to the surface,’ Chen continued, his voice beginning to falter. ‘He had told us everything he knew already. It was as good to let him go.’

Zhu seemed to be nodding slowly as Chen spoke. Then he reached out with his left hand and slowly turned the handle on the door.

‘Every man’s last day should be a good one,’ he said as he stepped out into the light.

EIGHT DAYS AFTER
their meeting in the Windsor Castle, Bill and Luca arrived in Kathmandu airport with five large duffel bags of climbing equipment and dried food. Stepping out of the terminal, they stood blinking for a moment in the brilliant sunlight, taking in the sheer chaos that is Nepal’s greatest city.

Billows of pungent smoke rose from the grills of food vendors, while beggar children darted through the heavy traffic, scanning the backs of taxis for the pallid faces of newly arrived tourists. Every so often there was a grinding of gears as a car swerved to avoid a cow, lying placidly in the middle of the road with the confidence of a lifetime of Hindu privilege. Amidst the incredible clamour, soldiers in pale blue uniform lined the streets, waving their truncheons and blowing their whistles at largely indifferent locals.

Signalling to the nearest in a long line of decrepit taxis, Bill and Luca loaded their bags, using some spare rope to tie down the boot of the car. The car’s engine stuttered, and then they were heading for the narrow streets of the Thamel district.

Luca leaned his head out of the open window, the hot air whipping across his face. The fumes, the noise, even the piles of rubbish rotting in the alleyways, somehow felt like a release from the stifling claustrophobia of the last few weeks.

One thing he was sure of – there was no turning back now.

Then he remembered his parents’ faces as he’d told them he was going back out to Tibet so soon after the last trip. Luca had steeled himself for anger rather than abject disappointment, and flinched at the memory.

‘You know you can’t come back and work here again,’ his father had said, grey-faced, and ignoring the warning hand his wife laid on his shoulder. ‘It makes a mockery of the other employees if you’re just hopping in and out whenever you feel like it.’

‘Yeah, I know that, Dad,’ Luca had told him. ‘But this mountain, if we find it, would be a huge deal in the mountaineering world. It could set me up on the lecture circuit, let me do this as much as I like.’

‘And Bill?’ interjected his mother.

‘He doesn’t see himself making a career out of it. His wife . . . well, I won’t go into details but he’s seeing this as a last hurrah – a way to go out with a bang before he quits climbing altogether. If it works out, it’ll be the climb of our lives.’

After a while he had got up to go. As he had kissed his mother goodbye, he’d noticed she was trying to hold back the tears and his father remained stiff-backed as Luca had hugged him goodbye.

Poor sod, he thought now as he looked out at the blurry chaos of Kathmandu. All his father had ever wanted was a son to be proud of. The problem was that the word meant such different things to each of them.

Away from the crowds, the car had picked up speed. Luca looked up above the ramshackle buildings and their bundles of defunct telephone wire to where he could just make out the foothills of the Himalayas beyond. The grassy slopes gave no indication of the extreme conditions that lay just a few thousand feet further up there, he knew that life would stall and dwindle: the cold peaks stretched up into the highest reaches of the sky, even bordering the stratosphere.

That was where they were going. Up and into a world that so few people truly understood. As Luca stared up at the peaks, Bill reached forward and tapped his shoulder.

‘We’re cutting it fine on getting our visas, aren’t we?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve emailed Sonam. It’s all fixed.’

‘You’re sure about that?’ Bill’s forehead creased in concern. He’d been anxious since they left, and for good reason. Cathy had been absolutely furious when she had found out they were off again and had refused to speak to him for two whole days. It had only been the promise that this would be his last expedition that had finally made her relent. Despite everything she had said when they parted, Bill knew only too well what this was costing his marriage.

‘Really, it’s all sorted. Look, Bill, I know it was a hard decision, but this is going to be the best trip we’ve ever done. You made the right choice.’

Bill was attempting to return his smile when the exhaust backfired suddenly and the taxi lurched to a halt outside the steps of the Chinese Embassy. Luca walked round the back of the car and came up to Bill’s open window.

‘You stay here and keep an eye on our bags.’

‘What am I, a sodding Labrador?’ he protested. ‘Why do I have to stay in the car?’

Luca grinned. ‘Just give me your passport.’

With an obvious show of reluctance, Bill dug into his rucksack and pulled out a cellophane bag with his passport inside. He handed it out through the car window.

‘Cheers,’ Luca said. ‘Now, try not to chew on the upholstery.’

The chill of the air conditioning gave the interior of the embassy an instant sense of calm, like walking into a church. One of the swarming officials asked Luca to wait in a side room and he sat down, enjoying the respite from the heat outside. Folding one leg over the other he picked up one of the discarded newspapers and began leafing through it, looking at the pictures.

Ten minutes later the door opened and a tall, smartly dressed Nepalese man approached, his shoes tapping against the polished
floor. He had shiny black hair and large, lugubrious eyes set in a gentle face. Luca smiled as he recognised Sonam.

‘
Namaste
, my friend,’ Luca said warmly. ‘How are you, Sonam?’

‘Very good, Mr Matthews, it is good to have you back so soon.’

‘How did it go with the visas?’

‘I will show you.’ Sonam rummaged around in the small leather briefcase he was holding and produced two sheaves of paper. The Chinese governmental seal was stamped boldly at the head of each.

‘I have just finished getting you and your companion on a group visa for Tibet. I was unsure what occupation to fill in and so therefore have put “employee”.’ He gave Luca a sideways glance. ‘I hope this is satisfactory?’

Luca grinned. ‘You’re a genius, Sonam. That’s brilliantly vague.’

He nodded. ‘There is, however, a small problem. This permit is only valid in two weeks’ time. We have had many restrictions on numbers entering Tibet and, I am regretting to say, there are no sooner visas available.’

Luca’s smile dimmed.

‘Two weeks? You’re kidding me?’

Sonam shook his head gravely. ‘And the permits will only allow you on the standard route back to Nepal. Each night, you must be checking with the local police station, right up until the Friendship Bridge.’

Luca stared at the sheaves of paper, his thoughts racing. The expedition was supposed to last four weeks in total. Even that was more than Bill could afford. If Luca told him they would have to kick their heels in Kathmandu for another fortnight, Bill would be on the first plane home.

‘We’ve got to get round this, Sonam. This is Kathmandu. Everything has its price.’

‘This is indeed Kathmandu, Mr Matthews,’ Sonam said, a note of anxiety in his voice, ‘but we are standing in the middle of the Chinese Embassy. They would take my licence if they thought I was trying to bribe . . .’

‘OK, let’s be calm about this,’ Luca interjected, leading him by the arm over to a corner of the waiting room. ‘Use one of the touts out in Thamel to get the permits for you. They’re all bloody crooks anyway.’

‘Mr Matthews,’ Sonam said, eyes widening and looking even more worried, ‘it is not that I don’t want to help. It is just . . .’

Luca raised his hands, gesturing for Sonam to calm down again. One of the officials glanced over at them from behind the large marble desk at the back of the main room.

‘Look, Sonam,’ Luca said, lowering his voice further. ‘You know as well as I do that if I go and pay off one of the touts, they’ll fleece me for every damn dollar I have. I know what a big favour this is, but we just can’t wait two weeks.’

Sonam’s eyes darted nervously to the security guard standing by the main entrance. His expression became grave, a deep vertical crease furrowing his forehead. He inhaled slowly before eventually nodding his head.

‘I will see what can be done,’ he said softly. ‘But it will be more expensive.’

‘Thank you, Sonam.’

Luca reached into his trouser pocket, surreptitiously pulling out a tight wad of notes wrapped together with a twisted elastic band. The notes were torn and filthy, having passed through thousands of different hands on their journey through the markets. Taking Sonam’s arm, Luca gently placed the bundle in the palm of his hand.

‘There should be plenty there. Whatever you don’t use, you can keep.’

Sonam’s cheeks instantly flushed bright red and he fumbled a few times before managing to hide the money in the side pocket of his suit jacket.

‘When I said I would help, I did not mean you should be handing me money in the middle of the Embassy!’ he hissed, shooting another worried glance at the security guard by the door. ‘Let us leave now and I will send news later.’

Out on the steps of the building, Luca offered him his hand. ‘Don’t worry, Sonam, this will all work out fine.’

Sonam slowly shook his head. ‘Mr Matthews, I just hope you are not getting yourself into trouble. The Chinese are not to be played with like this. The consequences can be most serious.’ Buttoning his jacket, he nodded curtly before walking down the steps and starting back in the direction of Thamel.

Luca watched him dodge round a cow lying in the gutter and then turned his gaze back across the street. A gaggle of grubby children had collected around the taxi. Bill was leaning out of the window, in the middle of folding a piece of scrap paper into a leaping frog. Luca walked up to the car and lifted one of the children out of the way.

‘Excuse me,’ he said to the child’s curious, upturned face. ‘Bill, we’re done. Let’s get out of here.’

He signalled to the taxi driver and the car rattled into life. Bill quickly handed the half finished frog to one of the young girls then reached into his pocket to produce a bundle of filthy rupee notes. At the sight of the money, the children all started shouting. Thin brown arms shot through the window and he started cramming notes into each open hand. The children’s excited faces pressed against the glass of the driver’s door and only stopped pushing forward when Bill leaned back and turned out his pockets to show that they were empty.

‘No more, no more,’ he shouted, and put his hands together in the traditional Nepalese salute. ‘
Namaste!
’

As the taxi pulled away to join the main flow of the traffic, the children all put their hands together, their echoing cries of ‘
Namaste!
’ soon drowned out by the noise of a car backfiring somewhere down the street.

‘Good way to start a riot,’ Luca said, looking over his shoulder at his friend.

‘I know, but the little buggers have to eat, don’t they?’

There was silence as they both turned to stare out of their respective windows. As they passed under the mass of overhead banners and
edged further into the narrow, crowded streets of Thamel, Luca thought back to Sonam again and wondered if he had done the right thing. If there were two things that kept the city of Kathmandu moving, they were bribery and gossip. The problem was that one tended to lead to the other.

‘Everything OK with the permits?’ Bill asked, leaning forward between the front seats.

‘No worries,’ Luca said, flashing him a reassuring smile. ‘Picking them up later at the hotel.’

‘Great. So no problems at all?’

‘Like I said, everything’s sorted.’

Luca bent forward and rummaged in a small leather bag at his feet. He picked out a rolled up piece of photocopied paper, a little battered round the edges. Swivelling round, he handed it over to Bill so that it partly uncurled, showing the corner of a pyramid-shaped mountain, intricately illustrated.

‘Let’s go for a pint at Sam’s. There are a few other things you should know about this mountain.’