Jack Higgins - Chavasse 02 by Year of the Tiger Page A

tried to claw his way through the living wall towards the Russian.
    Faces turned towards him, blind with fury and passion, lips drawn back from decaying teeth. As hands clawed at his clothing, he smashed a fist into someone’s mouth and then a searing pain flooded through his head and he plunged into darkness.
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    He opened his eyes slowly. For a moment, his mind was a complete blank, and he struggled up on one elbow, panic moving inside him.
    He was lying on a narrow bed in one corner of a dark and windowless room. A flickering butter lamp hung from a chain in the centre and all the gods and devils in the Buddhist pantheon chased each other through the shadows on the ancient tapestries which covered the walls.
    Their great demons’ faces loomed out of the darkness at him and he closed his eyes for a moment and became aware of a low, monotonous voice. When he opened them again, he realized that a saffron-robed monk in a conical hat was sitting in the shadows a few feet away, beads clicking between his fingers as he prayed.
    As Chavasse moved, the old man stopped praying, got to his feet and came forward. He looked incredibly old, his yellow parchment face netted with a thousand wrinkles. Quite suddenly, he smiled and, pulling the tapestry at the end of the bed to one side, went out through a low arch.
    Chavasse felt completely rested and his headache had vanished. He flung the sheepskin to one side and swung his legs to the floor. At that moment, the tapestry was pulled back and Joro entered.
    The Tibetan was dressed in the brown robe and sheepskin shuba he had worn on the plane and there was a smile on his face. The other Joro, the one who had worn the mask of the King of Hell, might never have existed.
    â€œHow are you feeling?” he said.
    â€œAll things considered, pretty good,” Chavasse told him. “I don’t know what made me act the way I did. I think I had a touch of fever or something.”
    â€œIt was the mountain sickness, nothing more.
    It makes a man do strange things. The abbot gave you something for it while you slept.”
    â€œThat was a pretty neat trick you pulled out there in the courtyard,” Chavasse said.
    Joro shrugged. “They had the machine gun so we had to be careful. I’m glad it worked. I had to walk most of the night to get here in time. But I knew they would take you to Changu and thismeant that they would have to pass through here.”
    â€œWhat happened to the Russian? Is he dead?”
    Joro nodded. “Naturally. To my people, the Russians and the Chinese are simply two sides of the same coin. Here is your Walther. I found it in his pocket.”
    Chavasse sighed, a feeling of genuine regret running through him. “He was a good man, by any standards.”
    â€œNot by mine,” Joro told him. “To me this is war and he was the enemy. It is as simple as that. In any case, I couldn’t have stopped the people once they got started. I had enough trouble saving you when you got in among them.”
    â€œMy thanks for that, anyway.”
    Joro shook his head. “They are not needed. I was simply repaying a debt. It was your quickness which saved me at the lake.”
    â€œYou’ve found the arms, I suppose?” Chavasse said. “They were in the rear of the jeep.”
    Joro nodded. “Some of my men are preparing them for use in the next room. Why not come through. There is a fire there and some tea. Tibetan, I’m afraid, but it’s time you got used to it.”
    He plucked back the tapestry and Chavasse followed him into a much larger room with a low, crudely plastered ceiling and tiny windows set high in the wall. The guns were laid out on alarge wooden table and three Tibetan warriors cleaned them expertly.
    â€œThey seem to know their stuff,” Chavasse commented.
    Joro nodded. “They are quick to learn. This is something the Chinese have yet to discover.”
    A fire of yak dung burned