The Tiger Warrior (47 page)

The other four came up behind. Costas slumped down beside Jack, and Pradesh knelt back against a rock, his rifle on his knees. Altamaty pointed to a pall of dust above the valley floor, and Katya clambered up onto a rock to follow his gaze. Jack knew she had been looking out for the horses since they had left Rahid. They had seen none, but she had told Jack that Altamaty had seen signs that he’d been sensitized to by his nomad upbringing. Jack looked at the valley floor. He saw no horses, but he did see people, a man and a boy. They were standing in front of a tent that was stretched between boulders at the base of the opposite slope. They were bundled up in sheepskins, and wispy smoke was rising in front of them. They were six hundred meters away, maybe seven hundred. Jack made a mental note of their size at that distance, and let his eyes dart up the slope behind them, looking at the boulders and ridges, at points of concealment, gauging the gradient of the scree and the increased distance as the slope rose toward the ridge some five hundred meters above.

“Do we say hello?” Costas rubbed his mitts together against the cold, and shoved them in his fleece. “I like the look of that fire.”

Jack shook his head. “Rahid said not to. When the miners come up here they use dynamite, and some of the people who’ve been attracted to work for them also work for the Taliban during the off-season when the miners have gone, making IEDs. That’s probably what they’re doing here now. It’s too cold for mining and there are crops to harvest in the valleys. The Taliban like having their bombmakers up here because if something goes wrong, if there’s an accident, nobody knows or cares. The bombs are mostly carried out to be used in Kabul and the south, but the Taliban in Feyzabad have recently put a bounty on killing westerners and these people up here might be tempted to use one on us. They have no land, no other income. And for desperate people, suicide bombing has become an easy route to paradise. We need to be careful.”

“Won’t they see our weapons?” Costas said.

“Everyone carries guns out here,” Katya said. “They’ll probably think we’re prospectors. Others have come up here before.”

“Including the one who’s after us.”

“He’ll be invisible,” Katya said. “He’s a sniper. That man and the boy will have seen us by now, but not him.”

“Let’s take a look again at that passage in Wood’s account,” Costas said. “We need to get our bearings and keep moving.” His teeth were chattering, and Pradesh passed over the thermos of tea he had made beside the jeep. Costas gratefully took it, unscrewing the top. While he poured himself a cup, Jack took out
Source of the River Oxus
and read out a marked page:

“Where the deposit of lapis lazuli occurs, the valley of the Kokcha is about 200 yards wide. On both sides the mountains are high and naked. The entrance to the mines is in the face of the mountain, on the right bank of the stream, and about 1500 feet above its level. The formation is of black and white limestone, unstratified, though plentifully veined with lines. The summit of the mountains is rugged, and their sides destitute of soil or vegetation. The path by which the mines are approached is steep and dangerous”

Costas finished his tea and passed the thermos back to Pradesh, peering at the route ahead. “Steep and dangerous,” he muttered. “You can say that again.”

“You can see some of the mineshaft entrances along the slope ahead of us, on our side of the valley,” Katya said. Jack slung his rifle and stood up. He felt the cold now, touching his core. This place had stark beauty, but also raw danger.
A place that gave no quarter
. He climbed up beside Katya on the rock, and followed her gaze. Above the mine tailings he could see the entrances to the shafts, at least half a dozen of them, black holes in the rock. Somewhere higher up were the ones they sought, three of them close to the ridge. “If Howard and Wauchope came here, they would have had no idea which shaft contained what they were seeking.”

“You mean the jewel,” Costas said. “The lapis lazuli one.”

Jack nodded. “The only clue we know they had was the inscription from the jungle shrine, implying that Licinius had hidden his treasure somewhere up here in the mines, on his way south from the Silk Road toward India. Howard and Wauchope could have been here for days, searching all of the mine shafts. We should appear to do what they did. We don’t want to give any clue that we know where we’re going. If this is who Katya thinks it is and he’s got his rifle with him, a beeline straight up to the shaft at the top identified by Rahid may be the last trek any of us takes.”

“So what happens if he does rumble us?” Costas said. “He’s not going to let us walk away from here.”

Jack climbed off the rock. “Altamaty came up here once when he was a captive of Rahid, and remembers a couple of sangars made by the mujahideen, crude revetments of piled stone used as protection against air attack. Pradesh and I discussed this on the way up here. He’s going to find one of them, and set himself up with his rifle. The sangars are about midway up the slope. Below that are the main shafts, the ones that are still mined. Katya and Altamaty, I suggest you explore those. Costas and I are going to climb above Pradesh, looking for those three upper shafts. Our sniper will be somewhere on the opposite side of the valley, with the best field of fire for the entire slope. If we split up, Altamaty and Katya below, Pradesh in the middle, and Costas and me above, then it divides his attention. He doesn’t know yet which one is his target, and he can’t concentrate on who may be targeting him. If he is here, he’s seen us and knows that two of us have rifles.”

Costas turned to Jack. “So what exactly are we looking for?”

“Rahid said it’s up there. He seemed to know what I was after.”

“Any detail? Like a treasure map?”

“He told me what I needed to know. All he said was that it’s in the central cave. He went in there as a boy. Nobody else goes there. They think it’s spooked.”

“Oh, great.” Costas paused. “If he found the jewel, wouldn’t he have taken it? Or given us more detail, like told us where in the mineshaft to look?”

“He told me what I needed to know,” Jack repeated. “I trust him.”

“You think there’s something else up there.”

Katya spoke quietly. “This isn’t just about what we find. This is about Shang Yong. He thinks we’re on the trail of the jewel taken by Licinius, that we’re going to lead him to it. That’s what the sniper wants to see. For years they thought the jewel was hidden in the jungle, ever since John Howard’s lecture in London when the story of the tomb reached the Brotherhood. And now they’re on the same trail as us, following the same clues. Even if they didn’t torture the knowledge out of my uncle before he died, they may have seen the inscription themselves, that word
sappheiros
, lapis lazuli. And this is where it ends. The tiger warrior kills us, or we kill him. If we succeed, Shang Yong’s power is broken. He only exerts power over the Brotherhood by force and intimidation. Without his henchman, the Brotherhood will rise against him, confront the corruption within. They will once again protect the eternity of the First Emperor, of
Shihuangdi!’

“And if we walk away now?” Costas said.

“Then there will be another confrontation, and the odds against us will be even greater. If we let Shang Yong believe he has won, then his world will seem inviolable. For him, the celestial jewel is a state of mind. This is what my uncle feared the most. In Shang Yong’s re-creation of the First Emperor’s tomb, in his fantasy projection of the heavens, he’s halfway to believing that the jewel is already there, in its rightful place above him, giving him the immortality he craves. If we give up on the quest, then the delusion may become complete. We need him to believe that the jewel could still be found, to maintain the small doubt, the part of him still left that knows that what he has created is an illusion. We need to keep that door open. If he becomes locked inside his delusion, then the world becomes a much more frightening place. It will truly seem as if
Shihuangdi
has reawakened, and that is something we must do everything in our power to prevent. There is much more at stake here than an ancient lost jewel.”

Jack’s eyes were like steel. He glanced at Katya, then up the valley. He slung his rifle and looked at his watch. “We’ve only got three hours of daylight left. Let’s move.”

An hour later, Jack and Costas sat back against the rocky scree slope not far from the summit of the ridge, having followed a treacherous path up over ridges and sheer faces of fragile rock. They were high now, over twelve thousand feet, and Jack exhaled through his nose to equalize his ears. All the time they had been conscious that they were being watched, possibly through the sights of a rifle, but they had worked on the assumption that they would only become targets once they had shown some evidence of reaching the end of their search. They were less than a hundred meters below the three mineshaft entrances that Rahid had told Jack to find. They dropped down into a gully formed by a bank of rocky mine tailings, concealing them from the opposite slope of the valley. Jack knelt down on the shingly rock and worked his way to the edge, the rifle beside him. He could see Pradesh in a depression in the shingle about a hundred and fifty meters below, his rifle positioned beside a rock. Somewhere far below were Katya and Altamaty, exploring the line of shaft entrances closer to the valley floor.

“Shooting at ghosts hiding behind rocks on a hill,” Jack murmured.

“What?”

“A line from a British soldier of the first Afghan war,” Jack said.

Costas settled down heavily on his front beside Jack, and rolled onto his elbows. He was panting, and his breath crystallized in clouds in the still air. “I should have brought my laser range finder.”

“The Canadian rangers taught me to estimate distance on the tundra, where the white backdrop makes the target stand out. Their benchmark was the standard survey lot of a hundred acres. Each side’s just under seven hundred meters. It’s a distance people grow up with in Canada, as that’s how the land was parceled out. The rangers reckoned that was about the maximum distance for a .303 shot with the unaided eye. Beyond that, you stand little chance of making out a stationary human form, especially with a rocky backdrop like this.”

“Unless you’ve got eagle eyes, like our opponent.”

Jack looked at the altimeter on his watch. “I downloaded a topographical map before we took off from Bishkek. The distance from the valley floor to the top of the ridge is about five hundred meters. Lieutenant Wood got that right in 1836, fifteen hundred feet. We’re maybe a bit over a hundred meters below the ridge, and the slope we’ve come up must have averaged at least forty-five degrees.”

“Isosceles triangle,” Costas murmured. “That gives a distance to the valley floor of about six hundred meters. But our sniper could be anywhere up the opposite slope, and there’s lateral distance too.”

“You have to put yourself in his mind,” Jack said. “Let’s assume he arrived here with plenty of time to choose his position. He wants to have a view of all the mineshaft entrances, right? He doesn’t know which one’s going to be his target. The shafts up here, close to the ridge, are the farthest from the opposite slope. Rahid said they’re just visible from the path running above the valley floor, the continuation of the one we came in on. That gives him a minimum distance to the most distant possible target, where we are now. He’s going to want to position himself equidistant between the farthest possible targets on either side. That puts him in a cone of probability focusing on that large cleft you can see above the path opposite us.”

“Remember what Katya said about how good this guy is. You’re thinking of seven hundred yards, but maybe he can do nine hundred, eleven hundred, more.”

Jack nodded. “He’s also going to take counter-sniping into account. He’s seen our rifles, but he’s going to assume that none of us are trained. Remember what Rahid said about the Taliban recruits, their dismal marksmanship. That’s what this guy’s going to be used to, wherever he’s worked in war zones around the world. Boy soldiers, terrorists spraying Kalashnikovs. Never much threat to him. In counter-sniper work, you always have to try to find a weakness in your opponent, and that’s his. He thinks he’s master of this valley, but he’s not.”

“You have to believe it, Jack.”

“It’s the psychology of the sniper. You need complete confidence in yourself That’s the sniper’s ultimate strength, but also a weakness. Confidence breeds over-confidence.”

Costas slid back down the mine tailings into the gully. “I just hope you don’t get the shakes. My teeth are beginning to chatter, and I’m not sure if it’s just the cold. I’m going to take a look in that shaft above us. But I’m going to drop down and see Pradesh first. He needs to know about that cone of probability.”

“Good. The more movement our opponent sees, the longer we have.”

“How much time?”

“Not much. He’s going to want to strike before the light goes. And he’ll have seen we’re not equipped to spend a night up here. He’ll be looking for any sign that we’ve found what we’re seeking.”

“You think he knows we’re onto him?”

“He’ll have seen Katya. He knows she’ll have told us about him. He’s seen us split up. He could guess why.”

“If I’m sticking my head up, I want you to be covering me.”

“Roger that.”

Costas shuddered with the cold, beating his arms around him, then clambered over the tailings and made his way down the slope to where Pradesh was visible in the sangar below. Costas slid awkwardly on the scree, completely exposed. Jack was far more worried than he had let on. If the sniper was half as good as Katya said he was, his first target would be himself or Pradesh. He would want to get rid of the two rifles first, the only threat to him, then pick off the rest at leisure. Jack shut his eyes, and tried to put himself into the mind of the other man, somewhere on the opposite side of the valley, staring at them, his eye darting from Katya and Altamaty, to Pradesh, to him, seeing Costas moving down the slope. Jack opened his eyes and peered out, searching the opposite slope, still seeing nothing. The noise of Costas stumbling down the rock reverberated across the valley. Jack prayed that he had been right, that the rifle was trained on him first, not Pradesh. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stand up, holding the rifle, making himself a clear target for a few moments, then lay back down behind the rocks. His rifle had the scope, Pradesh’s rifle did not. He took off his sheepskin mitts, remembering what Rahid had said. The cold would numb his fingers and make his shooting ineffective. By that simple act he was committing himself mentally to the task ahead. He had to believe that his opponent was also poised for action. He unwrapped the Lee-Enfield from the turban cloth. He tried to shut his mind from everything except his rifle and the target. He began breathing slowly, deeply, stopping every few breaths before inhaling again, trying to slow his pounding heart. He felt the forestock of the rifle, dried linseed oil on walnut, tested the grip. He held the rifle with his left hand and used his right hand to arrange the cloth where his elbows would be, cushioning them against the jagged chips of rock. He wrapped his right arm around the sling, but not too tight, remembering that the throb of arteries might be enough to throw his aim off completely at this distance.