He smiled, showing even white teeth and Drummond smiled back at him. 'He's beginning to liven up.'
Father Kerrigan nodded. The natural resilience of the young, I suppose..
Drummondsat there, staringinto the fire, remembering many things. The city burning, the old Khan's eyes blazing into his as he exacted that final promise, Cheung's pale, handsome face. Strange how things turned out. They'd been'very good friends, really. And what happened now?
He emptied the mug and passed it to Janet. 'Where's the map?'
Harold produced it from a pocket of Ms parka. 'Any ideas?'
'Not at the moment. How far are we from the village?'
'Here.' Hamid pointed as Drummond spread the map on the floor. 'Perhaps five miles. It's called Chamdo. The border's about fifty miles on the other side.'
Drummond examined the map carefully and frowned. 'Where does this track go to running over the mountain from the village? There's a place up on top on the plateau. Ladong Gompa.'
'Ladong Gompa?' Father Kerrigan put in. 'But that's a monastery, a Buddhist monastery. There's a shrine in the next valley, very famous in the old days. Pilgrims used to cross over the mountain and stay overnight at the monastery. I believe that's why it was built in the first place. The old Khan told me about it once.'
Hamid examined the map and shook his head. That.s eight or nine thousand feet up, Jack, and the snow starting. Father Kerrigan and Janet could never get across.'
'But you could with the boy,' the priest said.
Drummond cut in quickly. 'We all could if we had horses.'
'Horses?' Hamid said with a frown. 'And where are we going to get horses?'
'As you said, the village is only five miles along the road. If we slipped in just before dawn, we shouldn't have too much trouble.'
"All of us?' Hamid said.
Drummond shook his head. 'Just you and I. The others can wait for us here. When we come back with the horses, we can cut up across the shoulder of the mountain and join the track above the village..
'If we come back with the horses.'
'At least it gives us a chance.' Drummond shrugged. 'Can you think of anything better?'
Hamid shook his head slowly. 'That's the trouble, Jack, I can't. I don't suppose we have much choice.'
'Then I suggest we get some sleep. We're going to need it.'
Janet passed him a blanket and he wrapped himself in it and lay down next to Hamid and the old priest Surprising how warm the stove had made the interior now. He looked across at Janet sitting against the boxes, head bowed, the young Khan sleeping in the hollow of her arm.
A wonderful girl. The shadows thrown by the stove on to the canvas hood moved in and out, now coming together, now separating. Just like people, he thought. Now they need each other, now they don't. Now they mingle with each other, now they go their own way.
He slept well in spite of the cold that crept into the truck during the night and found himself crushed between the old priest and Hamid. When he awakened he sat up and lit the stove. The bright flame reflected suddenly from Kerim's unbandaged eye and Drummond grinned at the little boy, huddled in the corner next to Janet.
He motioned him to silence and looked outside. It was that time just before dawn when things begin to take on shape again, to have definition. There wasn't anything like as much snow as he had expected. Quite obviously, it had stopped falling hours before.
He felt curiously refreshed and jumped down into the snow, enjoying the fresh air in his nostrils after the close atmosphere of the truck. As he stood there, the trees started to stand out with a sort of hard luminosity and he knew that dawn was not far away.
'Enjoying the morning air?' Janet said quietly from title truck.
He turned and smiled. 'I don't know if you could say that exactly.' He spread his hands in a vaguely French gesture. 'I feel funny this morning. Close to home, wherever that is, and yet I know I'm not.'
She reached down for his hand in the darkness and gripped it tightly. 'We'll get there, Jack, I know we will.'
"Well just go on believing that.' He grinned. 'Better put some tea on the stove and wake Ali. We haven't got much time.'
.No need.' Hamid looked out of the canvas screen beside her and Janet moved back. 'What's the day like?'
'Could be worse. It can't have snowed for very long.'
It'll be back, I can promise you that We'd better get ready.'
Drummond climbed back into the truck and found Father Kerrigan crouched at the stove beside Janet, opening tins of beans.
.How do you feel?' Drummond asked.
Father Kerrigan smiled. 'The old bones are beginning to creak a little, but Til manage.'
'One thing I didn't check last night Can you both rider
Janet nodded. 'Since I was a child.'
The priest smiled. 'I should imagine you've been used to a rattier more sedate mount than tile local variety, my dear. Intractable brutes, I know from bitter experience."
Til manage,' she said confidently. 'What about you, Jack?'
'I get by, but only just. Ali's your man. He's a Hazara. They spent about a thousand years galloping down into India and back again, usually with a woman across the saddle.'
Hamid grinned and broke open a case of Garrand automatic riSes and Drummond cleaned one quickly. He found a box of ammunition and slipped several spare clips into his pockets. Hamid primed half a dozen grenades and they took three each.
Janet called softly and they sat in a circle round the oil stove, drinking hot tea and eating beans. "That's the last of the food,. she said. 'I can fill the big Thermos with hot tea before we leave, but after that, we've had it'
Drummond finished his tea and handed her the mug. He glanced at Hamid. 'Ready?'
'As ready as I ever will be.'
Drummond shouldered his Garrand and dropped over the tailboard. When he turned to look up, Father Kerrigan and Janet were pale shadows in the darkness. 'We'll be back in a couple of hours,' he said, trying to sound confident and they moved off.
Hamid led the way through the trees, his boots crunching the crusted snow and as Drummond pushed frost-covered branches to one side with a gloved hand, a feeling of exhilaration took possession of him. It was going to be all right. It had to be. They'd come too far, suffered too much.
Hamid raised an arm and they halted. The road lay just in front of them. As they stood in silence looking at it, snow began to fall quietly in large, firm flakes.
A tall, black finger of rock lifted out of the gloom on the other side and he pointed to it. That's as good a marker as any. We might as well use the road, it'll be quicker, but keep your eyes open. I've a nasty feeling we've left a little late. It's getting lighter by the minute.'
And he was right. One by one, the trees seemed to step out of the darkness as they marched along the road. The muddy rats were ice-bound and iron-hard with just enough snow covering them to make walking easy. They moved quickly, Hamid in the lead, Drum-mond behind him and keeping to the other side.
The snow was quite heavy now and reduced visibility considerably. There was that strange, absolute quiet that snow always brings and it affected Drummond powerfully so that for a while, he walked with his head bowed, oblivious to all possible danger, alone with Ms thoughts.
They had travelled for no more than half a mfle when he was brought back to reality sharply by Hamid's low, urgent call. He was standing at the side of the road and Drummond hurried to join him.
The tail of a truck was sticking out from the trees at an unnatural angle perhaps twenty-five yards into the wood. They stood there for a moment, not speaking, both thinking the same thought and then Hamid led the way forward, following the snow-covered path the vehicle had made for itself.
It was the supply truck. Drummond brushed snow from the side of the vehicle and his glove snagged on rough edges. He regarded the bullet holes dispassionately.
The thing's like a sieve. He must have run straight into trouble..
Hs wrenched open the door, but the cab was empty and then Hamid called from the other side. Bracken-hurst lay huddled under a tree, his face turned slightly, fingers frozen into tallons. There were three gaping holes in his chest.
They stood looking down at him and somewhere, a horse snorted softly. There was the jingle of harness and voices, soft on the morning air. Someone laughed and Hamid and Drummond slipped into the shelter of the trees.
At the end of the jagged lane the truck had made into the wood, two horsemen appeared, Chinese dressed in great sheepskin coats and peaked caps, guns slung across their backs. They reined in, looking down towards the truck and one of them laughed again.
Hamid handed his sub-machine gun to Drummond and said softly, 'Give me your rifle. We can't let them go on. They'll spot the other truck.'
Drummond gave him the Garrand and Hamid rested the barrel against the tree trunk in front of him. The horsemen had just started forward again when his first shot tumbled the lead man from the saddle. He screamed, turning on to his face in the snow. As both horses plunged in panic, the second rider fought to turn his mount. He was still trying when two bullets in the back lifted him from the saddle.
As Drummond and Hamid ran forward, one horse cantered away slowly, back towards the village. The other stood patiently beside the body of its rider. Hamid slung his rifle across his back, gathered the reins and vaulted into the crude sheepskin saddle.
Til catch the other one, Jack.'
He urged his mount forward and disappeared into the curtain of snow. Drummond checked the action of the sub-machine gun and waited impatiently. Somewhere in the distance, he seemed to hear a faint cry and then Hamid galloped back along the road, the reins of the second horse in his right hand.
'We'd better get moving. More horsemen back along the road. The bastards are out early this morning.'
Drummond slung the sub-machine gun across his back and took the reins. The horse moved away from him, rolling an eye and he pulled it back savagely and scrambled into the crude saddle.
Hamid urged his mount into a gallop and Drummond hung on grimly as his own horse followed. There was excited shouting somewhere to the rear, but no shooting and then the black finger of rock loomed out of the falling snow on their left and Hamid turned into the trees.
Father Kerrigan v/as standing anxiously beside the truck and Janet leaned over the tailboard as they dismounted. "What happened?' the old priest said.
'Never mind now,' Drummond told him. 'Get the boy. We've got to get out of here.'
Janet handed Kerim down, slung a small military haversack over her back and followed him. Swathed in the grey army blankets, the boy looked like a little old woman and didn't seem to be in the least afraid, his large, dark eye taking in everything with interest.
Drummond gave Janet a leg up on to his horse and handed her the child. She settled him in front of her and took the reins.
'Across the road and up the hillside,. he said, 'and don't waste any time getting there..
As Hamid helped Father Kerrigan into the saddle of the other horse, there was movement up on the road, voices called excitedly and then, quite suddenly, the sharp report of a rule and a bullet thudded into the side of the truck.
Drummond unslung his sub-machine gun and gave
Hamid a violent shove. 'Get out of it, All! Til hold them.'
Hamid didn't argue. He vaulted up behind Father Kerrigan and smashed his clenched fist against the horse's hindquarters. It bounded forward into the trees and the other horse followed instinctively.
Drummond fired a quick burst through the brush towards the excited voices and someone cried out sharply. He ran from the shelter of the truck and dropped on one knee behind a tree.
He could hear the sound of his friends' progress somewhere to the left as Hamid took them away on a diagonal course, obviously intending to cross the road lower down.
A mounted soldier burst through the trees towards the truck, another behind him. Drummond loosed off a long burst that sent both men and horses down in a confused heap, turned and ran headlong through the trees, following the trail left in the snow by the others.
There was movement over to his right, dark shadows against the snow and he emptied the sub-machine gun in a great, sweeping arc and ran on.
As he emerged into a small clearing, a Chinese soldier ran out of the trees on his right. Drummond's submachine gun was empty. He dropped it and rushed straight at the Chinese at the same headlong pace.
The man was badly shaken. Instead of trying to aim his Burp gun, he raised it defensively. Drummond ducked under the flailing weapon, grabbed for the throat and lifted a knee into the man's crutch. As the Chinese sank into the snow, he tore the weapon from his grasp and ran on.
