Patrick Woodhead - The Cloud Maker (2010)

Jack cleared his throat. ‘So there’s no truth to the idea that they contain priceless treasures?’

Sally Tang laughed, switching her gaze from one expectant face to the other. ‘Well, only in as much as every good fairytale features a hidden treasure. The myths certainly do refer to immense treasures, of infinite value. But, boys – have you any idea how many hapless fortune hunters have wasted their whole lives looking for such hidden treasures and vast riches? It’s like those endless quests for Shangri-La. They went off, searching vast mountain ranges or hacking their way into mighty river gorges . . .’

‘And what did they find?’ This time it was Luca who spoke.

‘They found what you would expect to find in such places – rivers and mountains. They went on wild goose chases, mistaking ancient Tibetan legends for literal truth.’

Luca leaned forward in his chair. ‘So there never were any treasures?’

‘That is exactly what I am saying,’ Tang answered impatiently. ‘There was nothing but myth. The fortune hunters found no empirical evidence at all.’

As she spoke, Luca reached behind him and, picking up his satchel, slipped open the buckles. Inside was the rolled photocopy of Jack’s thangka , which he’d unpinned from his wall to show her: the pyramid mountain lay at the centre of the picture, surrounded by its circular range of mountains.

‘No evidence at all?’ he repeated, staring at her quizzically. ‘So how do you explain the fact that I saw these mountains, exactly as they’re drawn here? Well, minus the squatting monk.’

The professor sighed at Luca’s stubborn line of questioning.

‘I grant you that some of the stories go into detail about the twenty-first or “mountain” beyul . It is supposed to be the most enlightened out of all the beyuls , a kind of heaven on earth, if you will. It’s often described or illustrated just as it has been here – a pyramid-shaped mountain with a strange ring of mountains that protect it. But, of course, the genesis of most legend and myth lies in reality. No doubt the concept of the holiest of beyuls arose because there was this peculiarly symmetrical rock formation – and that may well have been what you saw.’ Her eyes rested for a moment on Luca’s bare, tanned arms, folded across his chest. ‘But if you’re thinking of haring off to Tibet in search of the holiest of beyuls , then I’d urge you, as a friend of your uncle’s and also a responsible adult, to reconsider.’

She flicked a sidelong glance at Jack before turning back to Luca, her bright eyes suddenly very serious. ‘Over the years many Westerners – often those who were dissatisfied with their own daily lives – have become obsessed with these beyuls . As a result, a lot of them died very lonely deaths in some of the farthest reaches of Tibet.’

Jack looked over at his nephew who was now staring out of the bay window, apparently lost in thought. ‘Luca? Are you with us?’

He nodded silently.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, really I am,’ said Sally, cocking her head to one side again. ‘Though from my own selfish point of view, I have to admit I’m delighted by the outcome of your curiosity. I have had the pleasure of meeting you, Luca, not to mention getting back in touch with Jack here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting at eleven o’clock. But what do you say about the three of us making a date . . .’

‘So what about the Kalak Tantra ?’ he said softly.

‘The what?’ said Jack.

‘Sally knows what I’m talking about.’

Jack looked from one face to the other, noting the determined expression on Luca’s and the fact that the smile had frozen on Sally’s. ‘Now you’ve lost me. Can someone fill me in?’

‘The Kalak Tantra ,’ Luca said, his eyes challenging Sally, ‘was discovered in the last years of the nineteenth century. It appears to be a sort of road map, showing the location of every single one of the beyuls. Apparently the Tantra gave a set of rules, a precise code, that had to be adhered to if you wanted to get into them. It listed the entrances, the routes in, even what time of year the journey should be made.’ Luca clapped his hands together enthusiastically. ‘It gave you everything you needed actually to get into one of these places!’

Sally gave a curt nod, her eyes following Luca’s every movement.

‘Some Westerners have even said they have seen parts of the Tantra ,’ he added, opening his hands out flat as if he were holding a copy of the book in his hands.

For a moment Sally remained motionless, then she looked over at Jack and grinned. ‘No one can accuse your nephew of lacking determination,’ she said, before turning back to Luca, her expression suddenly serious. ‘But if you’d read a bit more of the Mahayana Sutras and not just the first couple of chapters, you’d have discovered that no one has even seen a complete copy of the Tantra . Minute fragments of it do exist – a few vague words here, a cryptic sentence there. But more often than not, the claims are wildly exaggerated. Parts of the “ Tantra ” are even sold to a few gullible tourists as they walk round the Bakhor in Lhasa. It’s not that different from Christians buying splinters of the “True” Cross.’

She tucked a strand of hair neatly behind her ear, looking over at Jack again.

‘Listen, I wish we could carry on talking.’ She glanced at her watch, which looked huge on her tiny wrist. ‘But I have a meeting that can’t wait . . .’

‘Of course.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘Sally, you’ve been wonderful. I’ll drop you an email and we can work out a plan to meet again.’

‘Thanks, Professor.’ Luca stood up, flashing her another smile as he swung his satchel over his shoulder. ‘That was fascinating.’

The two men walked down the corridor in silence, Jack shooting glances of concern at his nephew as they descended a flight of stone stairs and came out into the building’s open quadrangle.

‘I know it’s a blow,’ said Jack finally as they steered around the neatly mown circle of grass. ‘But Sally’s a smart woman, and if she tells you it’s a fool’s errand . . . .’

‘I don’t trust her,’ said Luca abruptly.

Jack looked incredulous. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! She may not have told you what you wanted to hear, but Sally Tang is a—’

‘I thought we were going to see a Professor Harris, anyway?’

‘Yes, well, I forgot this was Sally’s department. When she heard that it was me making enquiries, she arranged for us to see her instead.’

Luca shook his head. ‘She’s holding something back, I’m sure of it.’

Jack sighed and shrugged. ‘OK, well, I’m sorry for you. You won’t find a better mind or anyone willing to give you more time. Now, how do you feel about finding a café? I’m gasping for a coffee . . .’

As the men ducked under a stone arch, went past the porters’ lodge and into the street beyond, Professor Tang retreated from the bay window where she had been watching them. She bit her bottom lip, trying to decide.

It had been years since she had had any official duties in this arena, and part of her wanted to do Jack a favour and overlook the matter – categorise it as low risk. But there was something about the younger man that had worried her. For all his lazy charm he was very focused, and he had obviously chanced on pieces of information that would fan his interest. She doubted that she had deterred him for a second. If anything, judging from that handsome, brash face that was obviously used to getting its own way – she’d only succeeded in arousing his curiosity all the more.