Jack Higgins: On dangerous ground

"But the Japanese will go," Mountbatten said.

"And then?"

The room was very quiet. Mountbatten turned and nodded. The Corporal clicked his heels and passed the file to Major Campbell, who opened it and took out a document which he passed across the desk to the Chairman.

"This is not a treaty but a covenant," Mountbatten said. "The Chungking Covenant, I call it. If you will read it and approve it with your signature above mine, you will agree to extend, if you ever control China, the Hong Kong treaty by a hundred years. In exchange, His Majesty's Government will supply you with all your military needs."

Mao Tse-tung examined the document, then glanced up. "Have you a pen, Lord Mountbatten?"

It was the Corporal who supplied one, moving in quickly. Mao signed the document. Major Campbell produced three more copies and laid them on the table. Mao signed each one, Mountbatten countersigned.

He handed the pen back to the Corporal and stood up. "A good night's work," he said to Mountbatten, "but now I must go."

He started for the door and Mountbatten said, "A moment, Mr. Chairman, you're forgetting your copy of the covenant."

Mao turned. "Later," he said. "When it has been countersigned by Churchill."

Mountbatten stared at him. "Churchill?"

"But of course. Naturally this should not delay the flow of arms, but I do look forward to receiving my copy signed by the man himself. Is there a problem?"

"No." Mountbatten pulled himself together. "No, of course not."

"Good. And now I must go. There is work to do, gentlemen."

He went out and down the steps followed by the young officer, crossed to the Dakota, and went in. The door was closed, the steps wheeled away, the plane started to taxi, and Stillwell burst into laughter.

"God help me, that's the weirdest thing I've seen in years. He certainly is a character. What are you going to do?"

"Send the damn thing to London for Churchill's signature, of course." Mountbatten turned back in the entrance and said to Major Campbell, "Ian, I'm going to give you a chance to have dinner at the Savoy. I want you on your way to London as soon as possible with a dispatch from me for the Prime Minister. Did I hear another plane land?"

"Yes, sir, a Dakota from Assam."

"Good. Give orders for it to be refueled and turned around." Mountbatten glanced at the Corporal. "You can take Tanner with you."

"Fine, sir."

Campbell shuffled the papers to put them in the file and Mountbatten said, "Three copies. One for Mao, another for the Prime Minister, and the third for President Roosevelt. Didn't I sign four?"

"I took the liberty of making an extra copy, sir, just in case of accidents," Campbell said.

"Good man, Ian," Mountbatten nodded. "On your way then. Only one night out at the Savoy, then straight back."

"Of course, sir."

Campbell saluted and went out followed by Tanner. Stillwell lit a cigarette. "He's a strange one, Campbell."

"Lost his eye at Dunkirk," Mountbatten said. "Got a well-earned Military Cross. Best aide I ever had."

"What's all this Laird of Loch Dhu crap?" Stillwell said. "You English are really crazy."

"Ah, but Campbell isn't English, he's Scots, and more than that, he's a Highlander. As Laird of Loch Dhu he heads a sect of Clan Campbell and that, Joe, is a tradition that existed before the Vikings sailed to America."

He walked to the door and stared out at the driving rain. Stillwell joined him. "Are we going to win, Louis?"

"Oh, yes," Mountbatten nodded. "It's what will come after that bothers me."

In Campbell's quarters, Tanner packed the Major's hold-all with military thoroughness while Campbell shaved. They had been together since boyhood, for Tanner's father had been a gamekeeper on the Loch Dhu estate, and together they endured the shattering experience of Dunkirk. When Campbell had first worked for Mountbatten at Combined Operations Headquarters in London he had taken the Corporal with him as his batman. The move to South East Asia Command had followed that. But to Jack Tanner, good soldier with a Military Medal for bravery in the field to prove it, Campbell would never be anything else but the Laird.

The Major came out of the bathroom drying his hands. He adjusted the black eye patch and smoothed his hair, then pulled on his tunic. "Got the briefcase, Jack?"

Tanner held it up. "The papers are inside, Laird."

He always gave Campbell the title when they were alone. Campbell said, "Open it. Take out the fourth copy, the extra copy."

Tanner did as he was told and passed it to him. The single sheet of paper was headed "Supreme Allied Commander South East Asia Command." Mao had signed it, not only in English but in Chinese, with Mountbatten countersigning.

"There you are, Jack," Campbell said as he folded it. "Piece of history here. If Mao wins, Hong Kong will stay British until July first, twenty ninety-seven."

"You think it will happen, Laird?"

"Who knows. We've got to win the war first. Pass me my Bible, will you?"

Tanner went to the dresser where the Major's toilet articles were laid out. The Bible was about six inches by four with a cover of embossed silver, a Celtic cross standing out clearly. It was very old. A Campbell had carried it to war for many centuries. It had been found in the pocket of the Major's ancestor who had died fighting for Bonnie Prince Charlie at Culloden. It had been recovered from the body of his uncle, killed on the Somme in 1916. Campbell took it everywhere.

Tanner opened it. The inside of the Bible's cover was also silver. He felt carefully with his nail; it sprang open revealing a small hidden compartment. Campbell folded the sheet of paper to the appropriate size and fitted it in, closing the lid.

"Top secret, Jack, only you and I know it's there. Your Highland oath on it."

"You have it, Laird. Shall I put it in the hold-all, Laird?"

"No, I'll carry it in my map pocket." There was a knock at the door, Tanner went to open it and Flight Lieutenant Caine stepped in. He was carrying heavy flying jackets and sheepskin boots.

"You'll need these, sir. We'll probably have to go as high as twenty thousand over part of the Hump. Bloody freezing up there."

The young man looked tired, dark circles under his eyes. Campbell said, "I'm sorry about this. I know you've only just got in."

"That's all right, sir. I carry a co-pilot, Pilot Officer Giffard. We can spell each other. We also have a navigator and wireless operator. We'll make out." He smiled. "One can hardly say no to Lord Mountbatten. All the way to Delhi on this one, I see."

"That's right. Then onwards to London."

"Wish I was doing that leg of the trip." Caine opened the door and looked out at the rain. "Never stops, does it? What a bloody country. I'll see you at the plane, sir."

He went out. Campbell said, "Right, Jack, let's get moving."

They pulled on the flying boots, the heavy sheepskin jackets. Finally ready, Tanner picked up his hold-all and the Major's.

"On your way, Jack."

Tanner moved out. Campbell glanced around the room, reached for his cap and put it on, then he picked up the Bible, put it in the map pocket of his flying jacket, and fastened the flap. Strange, but he felt more than tired. It was as if he had reached the end of something. His Highland blood speaking again. He shrugged the feeling off, turned, and went out into the rain, following Tanner to the Dakota.

To Kunming from Chungking was four hundred and fifty miles. They took the opportunity to refuel and then pressed on to the most hazardous section of the trip, the five hundred and fifty miles over the Hump to the Assam airfields.

Conditions were appalling, heavy rain and thunderstorms, and the kind of turbulence that threatened to break the plane up. Several hundred aircrew had died making this run over the past couple of years, Campbell knew that. It was probably the most hazardous flying duty in the RAF or the USAF. He wondered what persuaded men to volunteer for such work and while thinking about it, actually managed some sleep, only surfacing as they came into their Assam destination to refuel.