The Forbidden Temple (21 page)

‘What the fuck was that?’ he said, his voice ragged from emotion.

Bill didn’t answer, but as Luca stared down at the ground, past Bill’s climbing boots, he noticed a small cloud of black fanning out slowly into the snow. For a moment he stared at it, confused as to what it was.

‘You’re bleeding,’ he shouted finally. ‘Jesus Christ!’

Forcing him into a sitting position, he grabbed the back of Bill’s thighs, running his hands down each leg. They felt warm, and the palm of his hand was sticky with blood. The back of Bill’s Gore-Tex trousers had been shredded by a raking claw marks and there was a long strip of flesh hanging loose from the main stem of one leg.

Bill’s breathing slowed as the adrenaline ebbed from his body. He stared at Luca.

‘How bad is it?’

‘We need to stop the bleeding.’

Looking up through the rushing snow, he caught sight of a dim silhouette coming towards them, battling the wind and snow. A moment later Shara stood over them, her arms wrapped across her body for warmth. She had her canvas bag over one shoulder and Bill’s half-filled rucksack over the other. She stared down at them, the fierce wind tugging at her hair.

‘Bill’s bleeding. Can you help?’ Luca shouted up at her. Shara immediately bent down, pushing the rucksacks to one side and feeling Bill’s legs for damage. After a moment, she looked directly into his eyes.

‘You’re going to be OK,’ she said, battling to be heard above the storm. ‘You just have to try and relax while I bandage this.’

She turned to Luca.

‘Have you still got that torch?’

Luca stared at her blankly. He had left his rucksack back in the cave. Then, his hand shot to the breast pocket of his Gore-Tex jacket – his head torch and lighter were still inside. Fumbling with the zip, he pulled out the torch and flicked the switch with his thumb, before handing it across to Shara.

Then he sat down on the snow behind Bill, shielding him from the worst of the wind.

Shara took a small folding knife from her jacket. Opening the two sides of her heavy sheepskin, she started cutting strips from the bottom of her jumper and tying them around Bill’s legs. Luca had his arms around Bill’s back, hugging him tight and rubbing his shoulders to generate heat. Wind and snow swept round them, covering their outstretched legs. Every few seconds, Shara would stop working and clamp her hands under her armpits to stave off the biting cold.

‘You’re going to be all right, mate,’ Luca whispered into Bill’s ear. His jaw was clenched, his bare hands curled into fists against the pain and the cold.

Now that the adrenaline had passed, the cold seemed to have a terrifying new strength. It was obvious that none of them would last much longer. Neither Bill nor Luca had managed to find their fleece hats or insulated gloves in the cave. Shara was the only one who was fully dressed.

‘We’ve got to go, Shara,’ Luca shouted across the noise of the wind. ‘Otherwise we’re going to freeze to death out here.’

She had finished tying the last of the makeshift bandages. The bleeding had slowed and she leaned over towards Luca, her expression set.

‘The cuts aren’t too deep, the problem is the skin around them. It’s already starting to swell from infection. If that was a bear, the infection is likely to come on fast.’

‘We’ve got to reach the rock-face on the other side of the glacier. Get out of this wind,’ he said. ‘We’ll worry about the infection later.’

Shara looked down at Bill’s swelling leg.

‘No. We need to sterilise the wound now, then give him antibiotics.’

Luca shook his head. ‘For Christ’s sake, Shara. We’re in a blizzard in the middle of the Himalayas! And you know we don’t have any antibiotics left.’

She closed her eyes, her expression agonised.

‘Come on, we’re going,’ shouted Luca. He started dragging Bill to his feet. ‘The rock-face is our only hope.’

Shara didn’t answer but stared into the wind, her hair billowing out behind her.

‘Get moving!’ Luca shouted. ‘We’ve got to reach the rocks.’

She shook her head. ‘There’s another place.’

‘What? Up here? What do you mean?’

Shara didn’t answer, but instead began muttering something to herself, shaking her head slowly. As Luca stared at her, waiting for an answer, Bill rocked forward, trying to get to his feet. He grabbed on to Luca’s arm and Luca turned, hoisting him vertical.

‘Can you walk?’

Bill hobbled forward a few paces in the streaming wind and nodded hesitantly. ‘Yeah. I can make it. Shara, what place are you taking about?’

‘For God’s sake, Bill. There is no place,’ Luca shouted, his voice raised in desperation.

Ignoring him, Bill moved closer towards her. ‘Is there really a place, Shara?’

She nodded. ‘Please, there’s no time to explain. Just follow me.’

Reaching down and opening her bag, she pulled out the object wrapped in cloth that Luca had seen the old monk hand to her. Holding it in one hand, she swung her canvas bag back over her shoulder again and handed Bill’s rucksack to Luca. A moment later she was marching forward, disappearing into the white of the storm.

For a second, Luca and Bill looked at each other. Then Bill grabbed Luca’s arm and began limping in the direction she had gone, his face set with determination.

ZHU WAS WAITING,
one leg crossed elegantly over the other, when the soldiers bundled René back in.

Two of them then moved to either side of the door, guarding it, while the third bolted it shut from the outside. René was left standing by the wall, his large frame slumped as if the strings of a marionette had been cut. His jaw was already beginning to ache and he could feel his lip had split at one corner. There was the taste of blood in his mouth and a bruised imprint on his neck where the soldier’s hand had been.

‘Please, Mr Falkus, take a seat,’ Zhu said slowly, gesticulating to the other side of the cell where the chair remained on its side.

René hesitated. Taking a couple of paces forward, he righted it and gingerly lowered himself down.

‘She’s just a kid . . .’ he began in a hoarse whisper.

Zhu didn’t answer, but instead glanced at the two soldiers by the door and nodded for them to leave. When it had shut behind them, he smiled at René.

‘The gentlemen you’ve just met,’ he began, ‘are from a special division of the army that I have commandeered. For all that, I’m afraid they’re not exactly what we might call “refined”. I myself once had the privilege of being interrogated by them.’

Still smiling, he took his right arm from where it normally remained behind his back and started rolling up the long shirtsleeve.

‘Nothing more than country boys, bored and frustrated,’ he continued. ‘Having said that, they do perform their tasks with a certain . . . creativity.’

René stared at the hand Zhu was now resting on the table. It seemed completely normal, slender and pale like his other one, except for one difference. Where the nails on his left hand were neatly manicured into little white moons, the fingers on this one looked longer and somehow inhuman. René blinked, his mouth going dry. Each nail had been pulled out, one by one.

The fingers had obviously long since healed but the nails had never grown back, leaving stretched skin rounding the end of each finger. The skin was redder in colour and perfectly smooth, as if his hand were facing palm upward. Zhu began slowly drumming them on the table while René’s eyes darted from one finger to the next.

‘I believe Anu’s interrogation has only just begun,’ he continued. ‘So I suggest you start talking. It’s your choice, of course, but if you’re quick, I might even be able to intervene and put an end to the whole thing. Otherwise, who knows how long it will last or what else they will think of to do with her once they have had their fun?’

René looked up from Zhu’s hand, his jaw clenched.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘Just let her go and I’ll tell you everything.’

Zhu fished out a pen and notebook from the breast pocket of his jacket. ‘Then, let’s start.’

‘They’re just . . . a couple of kids,’ René stuttered. ‘They do these climbing expeditions all over the place. A few nights ago they turned up in my restaurant asking about permits to get down south. They’re trying to climb a mountain near the border called Makalu. That’s all they are – climbers.’

He was speaking with his hands outstretched in front of him, pleading for Zhu to believe him.

‘Climbers,’ he repeated.

René nodded, desperate. He had to get the captain to believe him. He had to get Anu’s interrogation to stop.

‘So where did your “climbers” leave the main road?’

‘I can’t remember exactly,’ René said, frantically trawling through his memory. ‘It was a little town south of Shigatse. I had some yaks waiting there to take them further into the mountains.’

‘Its name?’

‘What?’ he said, confused. Why was the captain pressing him so hard on such a small point? Surely he should be more concerned about where they were now? But he had to stop the soldiers. He had to think. Even now they might be . . .

‘Tingkye,’ he said suddenly, clicking his fingers. ‘That’s the place. Tingkye.’

Zhu nodded, his expression blank. Then he bent forward, scribbling a brief note in the pad.

‘What do these climbers look like?’

As René gave descriptions and explained what little else he knew about Bill and Luca, Zhu felt an inward surge of satisfaction. He had been right all along. These were the two foreigners the monk had been referring to at Drapchi. They had to be. With the mention of Tingkye as well, there was no way this could be a coincidence.

Nearly fifty years ago, a couple of British soldiers had helped the Dalai Lama escape into India, and now, it seemed, they were doing the same with this boy. They must have got to Tingkye before that idiot Chen and were now moving the child towards the border. They would be attempting to get him across the Himalayas into India.

As René droned on, Zhu thought quickly. He could have the borders tightened along the standard routes, but still, it was an impossible area to control. The Himalayas were just too vast. If they were climbers as this oaf said, they would be able to go almost anywhere. Climbers were the perfect choice for crossing a border unseen.

René finished speaking and the room fell silent. He sat rubbing the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, blood still trickling down from where his lip had split. Zhu shifted his weight forward and reached into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a white handkerchief, sliding it across the table.

‘That’s everything you know?’ he said, gesturing to the handkerchief.

René picked it up, dabbing at his face.

‘Everything. I promise. Now, for the love of God, please stop that interrogation.’

Without taking his eyes from his notepad, Zhu barked out a few orders in Mandarin. One of the guards from outside quickly unbolted the door and stepped inside. Zhu spoke fast, not once looking up as the man saluted and then withdrew.

‘Had you told me the truth originally, Mr Falkus, you could have spared her innocence,’ Zhu said quietly. ‘I am a reasonable person, but you must understand, I will get what I want.’

He stood up, collecting his cigarettes and lighter from the table. He signalled for the guard again then paused for a moment, looking down at René.

‘So that’s it? You’re going to look for them on Makalu?’ René asked, his face scarlet with anger and humiliation.

Zhu started to speak, then hesitated. There was something about the way Falkus had asked the question that wasn’t right. His tone had been belligerent when it should be broken. What if this disgusting Westerner was smarter than he looked and was sending Zhu on a wild goose chase, feeding him parts of the truth to whet his appetite? He stared down at René’s bloated frame, hunched over the plastic table. Zhu needed to be sure he wasn’t being played for a fool.

‘Pack some warm clothes, Mr Falkus,’ he ordered, moving towards the exit. ‘We leave tomorrow morning, first thing.’

‘What?’ René protested. ‘Where am I going? You said . . .’

Zhu didn’t look back at René as he walked through the door, his right hand slotted back into his pocket.

‘You’re going to show us where these climbers went, Mr Falkus. Personally.’

Without checking his stride, he set off down the corridor, letting the sound of René’s protests fade into the heavy concrete walls.

SHARA WAS MARCHING
purposefully for the other side of the glacier, seemingly unaware of the gap widening between them. In the thickening darkness, they struggled to keep the beam of her torch in sight, grunting from the effort of trudging through the snow.

Bill felt the infected heat burn in his left leg, and pushed down harder on Luca’s shoulder for support. Both men struggled to stay balanced in the thick powder. The only consolation was the wind, which had started to taper off as they climbed away from the basin of the glacier. They were no longer in its main path, the higher ground offering some respite.

As the hours passed, the cloud started to disperse. Patches of moonlight shone through on to the snow. From time to time Shara would stop and using the light from the torch, look down at the object she was holding in her hands. Then she would turn back to the mountains as if searching for something through the swirling cloud. It was some time before Luca got a clear enough view to see that she was holding a book, the light catching on its gilded cover.

‘Where the hell are we going?’ he muttered. ‘If she knew her way around here all along, why didn’t she say anything before?’

Bill grunted in response, conserving his energy. The fever had started to take hold, and his forehead was burning up.

As Shara strode on, widening the gap to a hundred metres or so,
Luca strained to make out where she was going. He had Bill’s head-torch on and peered through the wash of artificial light trying to see which direction she was headed. It looked as if they were being led up the side of a mountain’s flank towards some outlying pillars of rock. The pillars were enormous, jutting out from the base of the mountain like a field of ruined temples and stretching on for what looked like at least a kilometre. In the moonlight, it looked like a maze of dead ends, the perfect place to lose your bearings.