The Gods' Gambit (19 page)

Irina jumped into her car and stepped on the accelerator.
She strongly suspected that the two dead people in the Audi were linked to
those in the van. They were there to provide cover. That could mean only one
thing – James and his people were in danger.

* * *

James was just about to take the parcel from the hands of
the deliveryman when shots rang out. Startled, the man in a blue uniform
dropped the parcel, hid his right hand behind his back and took a few steps
backwards. When he showed his hand again he was holding a handgun. His young
female colleague, who had been standing by the van, also pulled out a gun. Both
had silencers.

“Don’t move!” said the man.

More shots echoed from down the road, followed by the roar
of a forced engine and a loud bang. In spite of his confusion, James noticed
that the sham delivery people were also surprised.

The man’s hand started shaking. “Cuff him,” he shouted to
his companion.

The woman took out a pair of handcuffs and walked towards
James.

“One move and I’ll shoot you,” the man said, trying to sound
threatening and confident, but his eyes kept hastily glancing in the direction
of the shots.

“Drop your weapons! Now!” Pema’s voice was firm and
authoritative as she pointed Lao’s double-barrelled hunting rifle firmly at the
intruders. She had emerged unnoticed from her bungalow and was using James’
four-wheel drive as cover.

The man and woman hesitated, and then the man darted to hide
behind the van. At the same time the woman turned and fired her gun. She
missed. Almost simultaneously, Pema fired. The large pellets hit the woman’s
throat and upper chest, the impact throwing her body a couple of metres
backwards onto the patio.

Because of the initial shock and the speed at which all this
was happening, James had not moved. As he watched Pema and the man behind the
van, a car drove onto the patio and stopped abruptly. Irina was at the wheel.
As he turned to look at her, he heard Pema cry out. He turned in time to see
her fall to the ground. In that moment something burst inside him and he moved
for the first time since these surreal events had begun. He reached Pema in a
few large strides. He knelt and took her in his arms. At first, he wasn’t sure
where she had been hit, but he soon felt blood on the hand that supported her
back.

“Pema, can you hear me?” he cried.

She did not answer. Her eyes were closed but she was
breathing. James could not see who had shot her, but realized he or she must be
in the forest, because Irina had fired several shots in that direction.

While this was happening, the false deliveryman had managed
to jump into his van and was speeding away down the drive, tyres burning.

James lifted the unconscious Pema and ran with her into the
house.

“Stay inside. Take care of her,” shouted Irina.

James lifted Pema’s body onto the couch in the hall and
called for an ambulance and the police. He took off his shirt and made an
improvised bandage, pressing it to the wound. “Hold on, Pema, please,” he said
with sorrow in his voice.

It was quiet outside. “Irina!” he shouted.

Irina walked through the door, keeping an eye on outside.
“I’m okay. How is she?” she asked.

“She’s unconscious but she has a pulse.”

Irina came closer and looked at Pema’s wound. “Let’s hope
the bullet didn’t touch a vital organ. All we can do now is wait for the
ambulance,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Those people are probably gone. Including those
in the forest.”

“They got away. The man in the forest was alone. He managed
to jump into the van. I couldn’t stop them. I’d run out of bullets.” She paused
and looked straight into James’ eyes. “For God’s sake, James! What’s going on?”

Dorje Ling Monastery, Nepal

The Abbot of Dorje Ling monastery, lama Tenzin, was a
heavily built man with a strong-willed face and very short grey hair. He was
leading the morning liturgy sitting on a wooden carved throne placed in front
of the shrine’s altar. On the top of the altar, supported by four short, thick
wooden columns, was a block with three niches in which sat gold-plated statues
of Buddha. The walls of the temple were adorned with paintings of Buddhist
saints and other heavenly creatures. Four rows of monks dressed in traditional
red and yellow robes were sitting and chanting in front of lama Tenzin. From
time to time, the sound of a sonorous cymbal broke into their monotonous
melody. The cymbal sounded with a slow rhythm that increased and became louder
until it reached close to the limit of what the listeners could bare, and then
stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

The sounds of the morning liturgy echoed around the whole
plateau in the middle of which the monastery complex stood. The stillness and
clarity of the air allowed the echo to extend to the feet of the surrounding
mountain peaks.

Although built in such a remote and solitary place, the
Dorje Ling monastery was one of the most popular of the Vajrayana Buddhism
spiritual centres, not only in Nepal but also outside Tibet. It attracted many
visitors and pilgrims all year round. Now, as always, there were a good number
of people sitting in front of lama Tenzin and the monks. Some of them were
local people and Tibetan refugees; the rest were visitors from all over the
world.

After the last page of the liturgy book had been turned, all
present started the final recitation to dedicate the merits they had generated
to the welfare of all beings circulating endlessly in the relative cosmos,
called Samsara.

Lama Tenzin stood up and everyone followed suit. He smiled
and greeted some of the visitors, and then set off towards the exit, followed
by the monks and laymen and women. He stopped outside near the temple’s gate
where a fire was burning in a huge bronze bowl resting on a tripod. The fire
had been prepared for the performance of the cleansing rite Sangchod. During
the rite, the participants had to pass by the bowl and throw a pinch of dry
aromatic herbs into the flames as a gift to the Buddha, the Guardian Spirits of
the Buddhist teaching – Dharma – and the beings living in the ten world
directions.

Normally, the monks queued to throw herbs into the fire
according to their monastic seniority, but this time lama Tenzin broke with
tradition and called his young assistant and novice, Nyma, to join him. When
they had completed the Sangchod ritual they moved apart from the others.

“Today we are going to practise in the open,” said lama
Tenzin. “Go to the kitchen and take some food and water.”

Nyma bowed and scuttled off to the kitchen.

Lama Tenzin looked up at the white clouds scattered above
the snowy summits to the north and north-west. He could forecast the weather by
watching the signs of nature. Today was going to be a fine day. Suddenly, he
looked more closely at a particular cloud shape that had caught his eye.
Something now attracted his full attention. Clouds could also be used to
foretell future events by someone who possessed the knowledge to read the
signs. Lama Tenzin was proficient in that, too.

A shadow of worry crossed his face because he knew he had
seen something bad coming. Unfortunately, the cloud’s shape changed too quickly
for him to be sure of what exactly he had seen. He thought he might have
imagined it. He really hoped he had.

Nyma came back with the provisions and they set out together
through the sparse trees behind the monastery.

The plateau ended at the foothill of one of the higher
summits. They started walking uphill at a fast pace for about an hour and a
half. Eventually, lama Tenzin chose a big fallen tree for them to sit on and
have their breakfast.

Nyma thought that his teacher kept more silent than he
normally did, but respectfully did not want to start a conversation first. Lama
Tenzin was a good-hearted man and took fatherly care of Nyma, but he did not
tolerate familiarity or the slightest breach of the disciplinary code. He was
the most revered teacher in the monastery and Nyma strived not to disappoint
him in any way.

Lama Tenzin started to speak at last. “As you know, my
journey to the West is near. I plan to be away for a few months. That’s why I
want to give you some instructions. Tell me what difficulties you encounter in
your practice.”

Nyma looked down in confusion. Although he had the best
practitioner as his personal teacher, his meditation was a disaster. He was
wondering how to answer and from where to start. “I try to do everything
properly but with not much success. Err … after practising I feel more agitated
than before it.”

“What do you think is the reason for that?”

Nyma thought for several moments. “I have a light mind. My
thinking constantly jumps from one thing to another,” he said simply.

Sparks shined mischievously in lama Tenzin’s eyes. “Do you
see that perch sticking out?” He pointed out a rocky protuberance situated on
higher ground about a kilometre ahead. “It is the habitat of strong mountain
spirits. The place is good for the divination meditation I want to do in
connection with my journey abroad. It is good for working on your problem as
well. We will go there now.”

The climbing was difficult, but lama Tenzin did not stop
until they had put foot on the rocky perch. There he leaned against a huge
stone to catch his breath. The place was significantly larger than it had
seemed from the position where he had first drawn Nyma’s attention to it. A
great view over the plateau opened up before them.

“While here, we must be very attentive. Sometimes bears or
snow leopards climb down the mountain,” lama Tenzin warned.

At these words, Nyma cast around a furtive glance.

“They normally avoid hunting people. Except maybe if they’re
very hungry. Unfortunately, after the winter some wild animals are very hungry.
That’s why we should be extra watchful,” the teacher added.

Nyma felt his heart squeezed by fear. He wished his teacher
had not chosen this remote place for their practice.

Lama Tenzin stepped ahead and looked around. He indicated a
natural niche in the rocks and said, “This area is favourable for my
meditation. You go to the very edge of the perch. I’ll find a good place for
you there. Take care not to fall asleep. You could easily fall from the cliff.”
He took out from his wide sleeve a red scarf and wrapped it around Nyma’s head,
blocking his sight completely. “The bandage will keep the bad mountain spirits
away. They inhabit this place. Our presence disturbs them. When angry, they
could go inside you through your eyes and deviate your heart,” he explained.
“Now I will lead you to the stone. You stay there in the rishy posture. Hold my
hand.” He led Nyma away several steps and then let him go.

Nyma positioned himself in the way his teacher had taught
him – squatting, arms resting on his knees.

“Just calm your mind and don’t move,” lama Tenzin said while
walking away.

“What if I hear the steps of some beast?” Nyma asked with
tension in his voice.

“Wild beasts almost never attack meditating people. If you
do not move, the beast will sniff you and walk away.”

At first, Nyma was overtaken by rising anger at the
situation his teacher had put him in. Soon after that, almost like a physical
blow, he was stricken by thoughts about the dangerous things that could
possibly happen to him. One small movement could throw him off the cliff. He
could be eaten by a deadly beast. And to cap it all he was surrounded by raging
spirits. Nyma froze in fear – still and totally alert.

Some time passed and he eventually heard the voice of lama
Tenzin as though it was coming from a distance because of the trance-like state
he had plunged into. He took off the bandage. He blinked in the bright light of
the sun and covered his eyes with his palm. Only now did he find that he was
not at the edge of the cliff after all, but quite some distance away from it.
Lama Tenzin had only made him think that he was near the abyss; in reality, he
had left him in a safe spot. This discovery did not provoke any feelings in
Nyma. His mind was empty and stable.

“Now you know what concentration is,” lama Tenzin almost
whispered. “If at any time agitation taints your practice again, apply the same
technique. You could bring a danger even into your room to help you
concentrate. The difference between the abyss being next to your feet or
kilometres distant is in your mind only.”

Nyma pressed his palms together in a gesture of prayer and
bowed three times to the ground in front of his teacher.

While they were climbing back down, Nyma sensed that
something was wrong. Lama Tenzin walked thoughtfully, his shoulders stooped as
though he was carrying a heavy load. He saw him secretly wipe his face with the
back of his hand. Were those tears on his cheeks? No, that was impossible. Nyma
thought he was mistaken. But he was not.

Nyma would have been astonished if he knew what was going on
in the mind and heart of the old teacher. For the first time for many years,
lama Tenzin felt that the stability of his mind had been shaken. In his
meditation on the rock he had looked for signs of how to continue presenting
the Vajrayana Buddhism teachings, many of which were still secret, to the West.
Instead, he had received a completely different vision. It confirmed the omen
he had seen in the clouds that morning. Something very bad was going to happen,
very bad indeed. He did not know if he could do something, anything, to stop it
from happening. He did not know if anybody at all could do anything.

When they were about half a kilometre from the monastery,
lama Tenzin stopped and said to Nyma, “Bring the satellite phone here. We’re
going to make a call.”

Nyma’s first reaction to this unexpected request was
surprise, immediately followed by a familiar feeling – a mix of excitement and
curiosity. The calls lama Tenzin had made on that sophisticated device looked
somehow mysterious to Nyma. The satellite phone was a gift from a Tibetan
emigrant from Europe. At lama Tenzin’s request, the man had taught Nyma and
another young monk how to use it. Although a great scholar, lama Tenzin was
almost helpless when it came to modern technology. The old teacher had used the
phone from time to time despite the existing ordinary landline in the monastery.
All the satellite phone conversations he had made with Nyma’s assistance had
been odd. That’s why Nyma got excited every time he was asked to help with a
call.