Patrick Woodhead - The Cloud Maker (2010)

René looked up from Zhu’s hand, his jaw clenched.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘Just let her go and I’ll tell you everything.’

Zhu fished out a pen and notebook from the breast pocket of his jacket. ‘Then, let’s start.’

‘They’re just . . . a couple of kids,’ René stuttered. ‘They do these climbing expeditions all over the place. A few nights ago they turned up in my restaurant asking about permits to get down south. They’re trying to climb a mountain near the border called Makalu. That’s all they are – climbers.’

He was speaking with his hands outstretched in front of him, pleading for Zhu to believe him.

‘Climbers,’ he repeated.

René nodded, desperate. He had to get the captain to believe him. He had to get Anu’s interrogation to stop.

‘So where did your “climbers” leave the main road?’

‘I can’t remember exactly,’ René said, frantically trawling through his memory. ‘It was a little town south of Shigatse. I had some yaks waiting there to take them further into the mountains.’

‘Its name?’

‘What?’ he said, confused. Why was the captain pressing him so hard on such a small point? Surely he should be more concerned about where they were now? But he had to stop the soldiers. He had to think. Even now they might be . . .

‘Tingkye,’ he said suddenly, clicking his fingers. ‘That’s the place. Tingkye.’

Zhu nodded, his expression blank. Then he bent forward, scribbling a brief note in the pad.

‘What do these climbers look like?’

As René gave descriptions and explained what little else he knew about Bill and Luca, Zhu felt an inward surge of satisfaction. He had been right all along. These were the two foreigners the monk had been referring to at Drapchi. They had to be. With the mention of Tingkye as well, there was no way this could be a coincidence.

Nearly fifty years ago, a couple of British soldiers had helped the Dalai Lama escape into India, and now, it seemed, they were doing the same with this boy. They must have got to Tingkye before that idiot Chen and were now moving the child towards the border. They would be attempting to get him across the Himalayas into India.

As René droned on, Zhu thought quickly. He could have the borders tightened along the standard routes, but still, it was an impossible area to control. The Himalayas were just too vast. If they were climbers as this oaf said, they would be able to go almost anywhere. Climbers were the perfect choice for crossing a border unseen.

René finished speaking and the room fell silent. He sat rubbing the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, blood still trickling down from where his lip had split. Zhu shifted his weight forward and reached into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a white handkerchief, sliding it across the table.

‘That’s everything you know?’ he said, gesturing to the handkerchief.

René picked it up, dabbing at his face.

‘Everything. I promise. Now, for the love of God, please stop that interrogation.’

Without taking his eyes from his notepad, Zhu barked out a few orders in Mandarin. One of the guards from outside quickly unbolted the door and stepped inside. Zhu spoke fast, not once looking up as the man saluted and then withdrew.

‘Had you told me the truth originally, Mr Falkus, you could have spared her innocence,’ Zhu said quietly. ‘I am a reasonable person, but you must understand, I will get what I want.’

He stood up, collecting his cigarettes and lighter from the table. He signalled for the guard again then paused for a moment, looking down at René.

‘So that’s it? You’re going to look for them on Makalu?’ René asked, his face scarlet with anger and humiliation.

Zhu started to speak, then hesitated. There was something about the way Falkus had asked the question that wasn’t right. His tone had been belligerent when it should be broken. What if this disgusting Westerner was smarter than he looked and was sending Zhu on a wild goose chase, feeding him parts of the truth to whet his appetite? He stared down at René’s bloated frame, hunched over the plastic table. Zhu needed to be sure he wasn’t being played for a fool.

‘Pack some warm clothes, Mr Falkus,’ he ordered, moving towards the exit. ‘We leave tomorrow morning, first thing.’

‘What?’ René protested. ‘Where am I going? You said . . .’

Zhu didn’t look back at René as he walked through the door, his right hand slotted back into his pocket.

‘You’re going to show us where these climbers went, Mr Falkus. Personally.’

Without checking his stride, he set off down the corridor, letting the sound of René’s protests fade into the heavy concrete walls.

Chapter 31

Shara was marching purposefully for the other side of the glacier, seemingly unaware of the gap widening between them. In the thickening darkness, they struggled to keep the beam of her torch in sight, grunting from the effort of trudging through the snow.

Bill felt the infected heat burn in his left leg, and pushed down harder on Luca’s shoulder for support. Both men struggled to stay balanced in the thick powder. The only consolation was the wind, which had started to taper off as they climbed away from the basin of the glacier. They were no longer in its main path, the higher ground offering some respite.

As the hours passed the cloud started to disperse. Patches of moonlight shone through on to the snow. From time to time Shara would stop and using the light from the torch, look down at the object she was holding in her hands. Then she would turn back to the mountains as if searching for something through the swirling cloud. It was some time before Luca got a clear enough view to see that she was holding a book, the light catching on its gilded cover.

‘Where the hell are we going?’ he muttered. ‘If she knew her way around here all along, why didn’t she say anything before?’

Bill grunted in response, conserving his energy. The fever had started to take hold, and his forehead was burning up.

As Shara strode on, widening the gap to a hundred metres or so, Luca strained to make out where she was going. He had Bill’s headtorch on and peered through the wash of artificial light trying to see which direction she was headed. It looked as if they were being led up the side of a mountain’s flank towards some outlying pillars of rock. The pillars were enormous, jutting out from the base of the mountain like a field of ruined temples and stretching on for what looked like at least a kilometre. In the moonlight, it looked like a maze of dead ends, the perfect place to lose your bearings.

Luca stared upwards, the sweat running down his forehead. Even if they made it through the pillars, just beyond them he could see that the rocks fed into a snow gulley that looked impossibly steep. There were being marched into a dead end.

‘This is bullshit,’ he panted, shifting his grip on Bill’s shoulder. ‘She’s taking the wrong line.’

Tilting his head back, he yelled after her. ‘The route’s easier down towards the valley.’

A hundred yards further on, Shara was nearing the first of the pillars. As they drew closer, the rocks seemed to grow in dimension, leaning towards them ominously and extending back as far as the eye could see. Shara kept the book out in front of her, its pages illuminated by the beam of the head-torch. At the sound of Luca’s voice she turned and waited, her teeth chattering from the cold.

‘Where the hell are you going?’ Luca said as he and Bill arrived next to her, panting. ‘There’s no way through there.’

‘We have to pass through the Kooms.’

‘The what? What are you talking about? And what’s with the book?’

‘You just have to trust me, Luca. All I can do is give you my word.’