Jack Higgins - Year Of The Tiger

As they neared the village, dogs ran to meet them, their barking hollow on the damp air. They darted in and out amongst the horses and the soldiers cursed and kicked out at them.

A few ragged and undernourished children hovered on the perimeter of things, keeping pace with the column as it entered the village.

Chavasse decided that he had seldom seen a more miserable sight in his life than the mud streets and wretched hovels grouped round the large square. He trailed along at the rear of the column, dogs yapping at his heels as the children ran beside him shouting excitedly.

In the centre of the square there was a large stone platform, and here the headman waited with a few elders grouped around him. Colonel Li reined in his horse beside them and waited while his men galloped through the wretched streets, turning the inhabitants out into the rain, herding them into the square.

Within ten minutes their task was done and a crowd of perhaps a hundred and fifty people were gathered in the square. Li made a sign and a soldier pushed Chavasse forward and up onto the stone.

He looked out into the rain over the sea of sullen, apathetic faces, at the cavalrymen lined up at the rear, and wondered what was supposed to happen now.

He soon found out. Colonel Li raised a hand for silence. “People of Sela!” he shouted. “Many times in the past I have told you of the foreign devils who are our enemies. Those of the Western world who would do us harm. Today I bring you such a one that you might look upon him for yourselves.”

There was a slight stirring in the crowd, but otherwise not a flicker of interest, and he continued, “I could tell you many bad things about this man. I could say that he has murdered your own countrymen, that he intends you all great harm, but he has been guilty of one single crime more diabolical than all the rest put together.”

There was suddenly complete silence as everyone waited and Li said slowly, “This man is one of those who helped kidnap the Dalai Lama – who snatched the living God away by force to India, where he is now held captive against his will.”

There was a sudden cry from someone at the back, and then another. In a moment, the whole crowd was surging forward. A stone curved through the air. Chavasse moved to avoid it and another caught him above his right eye, drawing blood.

Filth and ordure of every description snatched up from the mud of the square was thrown at him, and within minutes he was plastered from head to foot.

Colonel Li had wheeled his horse away as they began, but now he called from the edge of the crowd, “What punishment is fit for such a monster?”

For a moment, the crowed paused, and then someone screamed, “Kill him! Kill him!”

Chavasse kicked out in a panic as a hand reached for his feet and fingers grabbed the edge of his tattered robe. Someone caught hold of the rope which was still fastened to his wrists and pulled on it, jerking him headfirst into the crowd.

He was on his face in the mud surrounded by a forest of legs, and fear rose into his throat, choking him, and he screamed and kicked out frantically and then the crowd scattered as the cavalrymen thundered into them.

They cleared a circle and he scrambled to his feet and faced them. The people looked at him silently, hate in their eyes, and Colonel Li urged his horse forward and said, “No, death would be the easy way out, comrades. We must help him to change. To become like us. To think like us. Is this not so?”

There was a sullen murmur from the crowd and, as Li inclined his head, the cavalrymen herded them away.

Li smiled down at Chavasse. “You see, Paul, without me they would have killed you. I really am your friend after all.”

Chavasse, glaring up at him with hate in his heart, could think of nothing to say.

Lying in the darkness, suspended in a sort of limbo, Chavasse was dragged back into the present when the bell started to jangle somewhere inside his head and the cell was illuminated by intermittent flashes of scarlet.

The skin on his face seemed to tighten, and it seemed as if the raw ends of his nerves were being given a series of electric shocks.

He lay there staring up at the ceiling, the bare springs of the iron cot digging painfully into his back, and waited for them to come for him.

He could hear boots on the flagstones of the corridor and then the key grated in the lock. The bolt was thrown back and a shaft of hard white light sliced through the darkness.

Slowly, very slowly, he swung his legs to the floor and got to his feet. There was no one but the little sergeant, and he stood back and motioned Chavasse outside with a quick jerk of his head.

Chavasse moved along the corridor through a curtain of grey shimmering cobwebs, dragging his feet slightly. He’d had nothing to eat for three days and, as he put each foot down upon the flagstones, he seemed to be moving in slow motion.

He was filled with a great calm and he turned and smiled at the sergeant as they reached the end of the corridor and started up the stairs. The sergeant looked at him strangely, and there was something that was almost fear in his eyes.

But why should he be afraid of me, Chavasse asked himself? As he paused outside the familiar door and waited for the sergeant to open it for him, he smiled again.

In the outer office, the smart young woman orderly sat at a desk writing busily. She looked up and nodded and the sergeant opened the inner door and stood back for Chavasse to go in first. Captain Tsen was sitting behind Colonel Li’s desk, and he kept his head down as he studied a typewritten report, completely ignoring Chavasse and the sergeant.

Chavasse didn’t mind in the least. Through the cobwebs, a gaunt and bearded stranger looked out at him from the mirror on the wall. He smiled and the stranger smiled back and behind the stranger was the sergeant standing by the door and there was that look of fear in his eyes again.

But why should he be afraid? The stranger in the mirror frowned as if he too puzzled over the problem and then a great light flamed through the cobwebs, clearing them instantly. There was nothing more they could do to him . That was the only answer. He had won .

Captain Tsen looked up, his face completely devoid of expression. He opened his mouth and his voice sounded far away, as if it came from the other end of a tunnel.

Chavasse smiled politely and Tsen picked up a typewritten document and started to read aloud, and now Chavasse heard every word loud and clear.

“Paul Chavasse, you have been tried by a special court of the Central Committee of intelligence in Peking and found guilty of grave crimes against the People’s Republic.”

There didn’t seem much he could say. There was, of course, the small and obvious point that he had not been present at his trial, but such minor items had little significance in the general scheme of things.

He waited and Tsen carried on:

“It is the sentence of this court that the prisoner be shot to death as soon as may be convenient.”

It was as if a great floodgate had been released, and joy surged through him in a wave of emotion that brought tears to his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much.”

Tsen frowned up at him. “You are to be executed. You understand?”

“Perfectly!” Chavasse assured him.

Tsen shrugged. “Very well. Take off your clothes.”

Slowly, with fumbling fingers, he started to strip, and the stranger in the mirror nodded encouragingly and followed suit. As Chavasse dropped his filthy shirt upon the floor, Tsen said to the sergeant, “Examine his clothing. There must be no question of his evading the sentence by committing suicide.”