The Forbidden Temple (34 page)

Every time they crossed one obstacle another seemed to rise up from the ground, barring the way. Between the huge pillars of rock there were only brief patches of sky visible, making it impossible for
him to catch his bearings or get a satellite signal on his GPS. As the afternoon dragged on, particles of snow drifted around them, eddying in the currents of air and settling on their camouflage jackets. The temperature was dropping fast. Night would soon be upon them.

Chen felt a tug at his waist as the climbing rope was yanked tight. A few metres behind, Xie scrambled over a slab of rock and stopped just behind him.

‘That way.’

Chen swivelled round in surprise. Up until now, he had never heard the private speak. It had been only his eyes that moved, silently taking it all in. He looked closer at Xie. His square head was pulled back and his shoulders hunched in on themselves, making his body curl forward like a toad’s. A fresh scar ran down the side of his face from where he’d been pistol-whipped by Zhu.

‘We should go more that way,’ Xie continued, his voice breathless and deep.

Chen stood impassively on the rock, considering what to do. He held his rifle loosely in his left hand and the rope was coiled diagonally across his massive shoulders, making him look more like a professional mountaineer than a soldier. Xie’s eyes narrowed as he took in every detail then he shifted his own position, widening his feet a little and trying to strike a similar pose.

‘No. We keep to this line,’ Chen said, gesturing confidently ahead. He wasn’t about to lose face to such a mindless thug.

Xie gritted his teeth but didn’t answer, eyes darting forward to where Chen was pointing. There was nothing to be seen, only the same broken rocks, the endless looming pillars. They were going the wrong way, he was sure of it. He shivered slightly, the sweat collecting across his lower back and pasting his shirt to his skin.

After a moment’s pause they continued forward, Chen leading and Xie trailing behind.

High above them the sky slowly lost the last of its colour. As each minute passed the wind seemed to increase. It funnelled through the
gaps in the rocks with a hollow whistling sound, picking up the loose snow and flurrying it all around them. Spindrift frosted every part of their clothing, lacing the hoods of their jackets and sticking to their exposed cheeks. Xie dragged his sleeve across his face irritably, trying to wipe the snow from his eyes and see the way forward.

They came to another fallen slab. For a moment Chen paused, craning his head to one side to check the route. Xie hovered just behind him, hands clenching into fists in frustration. His tongue darted across his lips as started to speak, but he held himself in check. He slowly raised his hand, pointing to the left but Chen ignored him, moving forward again in line with the direction of the rocks – to the right.

For another hour they continued in this way before Chen finally stopped. He rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, and slowly shook his head. It was hopeless. He couldn’t make head nor tail of this damn labyrinth. Xie was just behind, impatiently rocking from one foot to the next.

‘The terrain looks like it is worsening,’ Chen said, without making eye contact. ‘The best climber should be at the back.’

He gestured for them to switch positions and, as Xie stepped forward over the coils of climbing rope, a crooked smile spread across his face. He immediately set off, turning sharp left.

He moved fast, hurrying from one rock to the next, picking his way through the fallen slabs. His eyes scanned the dark shadows on the ground, his confidence growing with each new bound. Letting the rope trail out between them, he forced his way on to one of the higher outcrops of rock and twisted his thick neck from side to side, trying to see the way ahead. Then he was off again, worming his way over the next obstacle without looking back to check if Chen was still following.

After a while, they came up to a large, tabular boulder and Xie swiftly levered himself on top. Straightening up he started walking across to the other side. Chen was a few metres behind when he suddenly stopped. To the left of his hand he noticed a small
triangular mark that had been etched into the rock. It looked to be man-made. He peered closer, wondering what it could be.

As his finger traced the lines of the mark, he slowly became aware of the sound of rushing water. He hadn’t heard it before over the noise of his own breathing but it was definitely there, bubbling away in the distance. Chen was looking about him, wondering where it was coming from, when the rope impatiently tugged at his waist. Xie, standing on the far edge of the boulder, was ready to drop down the other side.

Chen stopped dead in his tracks. Water! They must be standing on top of an underground river.

‘Wait,’ he shouted, advancing quickly across the top of the rock, but Xie turned away, ignoring him. He had followed the lieutenant for hour after hour in the wrong direction. This was the way ahead, he was sure of it.

‘I said, wait!’ Chen bellowed, moving faster, but Xie simply slithered down the far side of the boulder. He took another pace forward when the rock beneath his feet suddenly shifted, breaking off and falling into the darkness below with a dull hiss. Xie’s whole body jerked downwards, his chest smashing into the boulder in front and almost winding him.

Xie screamed, his hands clawing over the smooth rock facing him while his legs kicked out helplessly into thin air. The climbing rope was tight at his waist – the only thing preventing him from slipping into the blackness below.

A few metres away, Chen was yanked off his feet, landing heavily on his elbows. He groaned in pain, but his hands instinctively tightened around the rope in front, trying to resist its pull. Swivelling round, he managed to dig his heels in, but as the rope jarred, he felt himself slide forward again, the drop on the far side looming closer with each inch.

Xie screamed again, a high-pitched note stretched by terror as he frantically jerked his body up and down, trying to pull himself free from the hole. The sound of gushing water was all around him now.
He could feel the sudden chill of the river drawing up from the gaps between the rocks. It was somewhere in the darkness just below his feet, rushing over the stone in an underground torrent.

Xie reached forward, grabbing on to the rope and pulling down on it with all his strength, trying to lever his body upwards. He kicked again and again, desperately trying to worm his way out while his shoulders spasmed from the strain. As he slumped back and the rope burned through his hands, his scream faded into a frantic, breathless whimper.

‘Stop pulling the rope!’ Chen screamed, his feet now only a couple of inches from the edge. His whole body was rigid, trying to resist its immense pull, but each time Xie jerked downwards, the rope would bounce from the strain, yanking him closer.

‘Please . . . please,’ Xie whimpered, his cries muffled by his camouflage jacket which had bunched up past his neck and was now covering his mouth. Only his eyes were visible above the collar, pupils wide as they stared pleadingly at the top of the boulder. He jerked forward again, trying to break free.

‘Don’t pull the rope!’ Chen roared again, but there was no response.

Xie felt the tip of his right boot connect with the rushing water below. As it dipped only an inch below the streaming surface, the river grabbed hold of it, wrenching it along with the fast-moving current. Xie’s whole body twisted from the force, pulling him a few more precious inches further down the hole and into the blackness of the river. He could feel the icy water surging up his leg as if reaching up to claim him.

Chen teetered on the very edge of the boulder, every muscle in his back and thighs fighting. He could now see the top half of Xie’s head poking out from between the line of rocks below. Turning his own head a few inches to the side, he stared down at the instep of his own boot. It was wedged into a crack no more than a couple of millimetres deep. It was all that was stopping him from being flung into the same chasm as Xie.

Chen murmured a silent prayer, willing his grip to hold. He could see the rubber on the sole of his boot buckling to one side from the pressure.

There was another jolt on the rope as Xie’s other leg dipped down into the water.

Chen couldn’t hold it. He was going to be dragged down too.

On the shoulder strap of his webbing was his survival knife. With one fluid movement, he reached up and unclipped it from its sheath. His hand curled round the cold metal of the handle, while the steel blade gleamed in the darkness.

At the sudden movement of the knife, Xie froze.

‘Please . . .’ he whimpered, staring into Chen’s eyes. His arms had stopped flailing and hung pathetically by his sides. Underneath the line of the rocks, his legs were bent back on themselves, knees skimming the surface of the rushing water.

Chen held his gaze for the briefest moment. Then, bringing down the knife, he pressed it against the rope. The line was under such pressure it felt as rigid as steel. He had to saw down on it, drawing the blade back and forth with sharp jerks of his wrist.

‘Plea—’

Xie did not have time to finish the word before the blade finally cut through and the fibres of the rope tore in two. Immediately he was sucked down into the heaving mass of icy water with just the frayed end of the rope trailing behind him like an umbilical cord. The raging noise of the river was all around him, the cold driving the breath from his lungs as if his whole chest had imploded. Then there was a crack as his neck struck against stone and everything went black.

Chen stared at the empty space beneath the rock for a few moments. Then slowly raising himself to his feet, he slid the survival knife back into its sheath. He remembered the overwhelming sickness he had felt when shooting that boy all those weeks ago. How he had spent the time since trying to banish the terrible guilt.

There was none of that now. No pity, no remorse. For a moment he wondered whether he had lost all feeling; whether this mission had finally got to him, making him as ruthless as the others. But somewhere deep within him, he already knew that wasn’t the truth. The fact remained that Xie had been nothing more than a rapist and a thug. If he hadn’t panicked and pulled on the rope, he would still have been alive now.

‘So long,’ Chen muttered under his breath. He turned, walking back along the boulder towards the marking he had seen on the way up. That was the key to finding their way out of this maze, he was sure of it.

‘
PLEASE, MR MATTHEWS,
we must hurry.’

Dorje padded down the corridor with Luca following a few feet behind. The monk’s arms swung briskly by his sides, the hem of his robe wafting behind. He glanced over his shoulder, checking on Luca’s progress, then swept down yet another staircase.

‘I have been instructed by His Holiness the Abbot to take you to see Miss Shara immediately,’ he said, eyes fixed ahead in search of the correct door.

‘Shara?’ Luca said, hurrying forward. ‘But you said we were going to see Bill. What’s going on, Dorje? The Abbot gave me his word on this.’

‘Plans change!’ Dorje exclaimed, raising his hands into the air. ‘You will get your wish, Mr Matthews, but not everything in this monastery revolves around you.’

Luca stared at the perfectly shaved back of Dorje’s head, wondering what had made him so agitated. He had only ever seen Dorje meander through the monastery, his pace infuriatingly slow, yet today he was striding forward as if his life depended on it. The habitual sense of calm had vanished, and for the first time since Luca had met him, Dorje looked decidedly flustered. Luca paced behind him, wondering what could have rattled the monk so badly.

Eventually the corridor came to an end with a large wooden door
barring their way. It was ornately carved and, after a moment, Luca recognised it as the same door he’d found on the night he’d broken out of his room. It led to the chamber filled with books and piles of parchments – the one he’d guessed was the monastery library.

Dorje strained to get the heavy door open, waving away Luca’s attempt to help before he finally succeeded in drawing it back on its hinges. In front of them stood the same long line of bookshelves. This time, however, the room was brightly lit by the line of iron candelabra that stretched back along its immense vaulted ceiling.

In the light, Luca could now see just how vast the room was. It must have occupied a huge proportion of the monastery. But despite its obvious size, the main part of the chamber was concealed beyond the line of the bookshelves.

‘Wait here, Mr Matthews,’ Dorje said sternly, and quickly paced forward. At the end of the shelves, he turned left into the main chamber and disappeared from view. Luca was leaning against the wall watching him go, when he heard a soft murmuring sound. It was faint, almost imperceptible. He listened harder. It sounded as if someone was murmuring an unintelligible stream of words. Then he realised – it wasn’t just one person speaking, there was a whole cross-current of voices.

The noise was coming from somewhere past the endless line of books. His eyes traced across them, at the spines running back in a crooked sea of colour. Most were weighty tomes, inches thick, with decrepit old covers that had long since seen better days.

What
was
that noise?

Luca guessed the top of the shelving was about twelve feet high. With the toe of his boot pressing down on the first row of books, he suddenly sprang upwards, reaching his right arm up and over the top. His fingers gripped the dusty wooden surface before he swung his left arm over as well and pulled himself higher. The top of his head slowly craned above the line of the shelving and he was able to look down into the room behind.

About thirty monks were seated at individual writing desks spaced
neatly in rows across the central part of the room. Each of them sat with a huge book open in front of them and an old-fashioned quill pen in their hands. Some were at the beginning of their volume while others were on the final few pages, but all of them had their eyes half-closed and were rocking back and forth in their seat, their pens scratching across the pages in continual movement.