"The old lighthouse," Jigme noted, gesturing in that direction as they negotiated a patch of mud. "When funding permits, we plan to refurbish the keeper's house as part of the retreat facilities. The lighthouse itself has been disused for some time, but the sea jetty will provide a useful second landing place for bringing supplies to the island."
They continued walking, kept from chill by their exertion, though a light rain continued to fall. The footpath became more mud than grass, not improved by the hooves of four shaggy, dun-colored Soay sheep with lambs at heel, who skittered off in alarm when McLeod's trenchcoat gave a particularly startling snap in the wind. A hundred yards beyond loomed a square rock outcropping that Jigme identified as the Judgement Stone, said to be the seat where the sixth-century St. Molaise had been wont to give his judgements to the pilgrims who came here to seek his guidance. Skirting the stone, Jigme led the party left up a succession of irregular steps paved with flat stones, to approach a wide, irregularly shaped cave-mouth opening in the cliff side.
The sea breeze died and the rain ceased as they climbed. The ensuing hush was deep and profound. Both McLeod and Peregrine pricked up their ears, listening intently to the silence. For all its outward calm, the air here was strangely vital, charged with expectancy.
Adam was likewise aware of the change in the air, so was not surprised when, following Jigme expectantly to the crest of the path, he found himself suddenly brought up short at the lip of the cave only barely visible from below. But it was not the cave but its occupant who immediately caught and held Adam's attention. Amid the dimness, seated cross-legged on a straw mat similar to the one back at the farmhouse, Lady Julian's old teacher was physically unimposing - only a diminutive, shaven-headed figure of ageless appearance - but one look at him, as their eyes met, told Adam that the vision of Tseten Rinpoche extended far beyond the need for any earthly source of illumination. Dressed much as Jigme, but with a red anorak instead of a navy one, his left hand was resting lightly closed on his knee, the right fingering the black beads of a mala, or rosary. The items Adam had sent with Jigme lay before him.
Going down the steps, Jigme gave him reverent salute over joined hands and began addressing the old lama in Tibetan. Hearing his name and those of his associates among the foreign syllables, Adam realized that the three of them were being introduced.
Tseten favored each of them in turn with a keen glance, and Adam set his palms together in the traditional gesture of respect and stepped forward, bowing slightly over his joined hands. As McLeod and Peregrine echoed the salute, the old lama's gaze warmed in response and he glanced at Jigme expectantly.
"Rinpoche invites you to be seated," Jigme said, indicating the straw matting. "I shall interpret."
Chapter Twenty-Three
AT this invitation, Adam bowed again and descended the steps, pausing to slip his shoes off and remove his cap before venturing onto the straw mat to sit cross-legged before the old lama. McLeod and Peregrine followed suit, sinking down to either side of him. Jigme positioned himself at Tseten's right. Smiling, the old man began to speak in Tibetan, opening his left hand to reveal Adam's Adept ring cradled in its palm.
"Rinpoche says that this ring bears the psychic signature of an old friend," Jigme translated. "You will know her as Julian Brodie. He asks that you convey his warmest greetings to her, the next time the two of you should meet."
Adam smiled in his turn and inclined his head, impressed by the old lama's demonstrable keenness of perception. Julian had not made the ring, but she had made extensive repairs to it on one relatively recent occasion when it had been damaged in the line of duty. It was no mean feat of discernment that Tseten could have sensed her particular resonance in the midst of all the other powerful reverberations that the ring itself carried. Even thus might a master musician differentiate the voice of a single instrument sounding in the midst of a fully orchestrated symphony.
"Please tell Rinpoche that I will be very happy to do as he asks," he said as Tseten laid the ring beside the other artifacts. "It was Julian herself who first suggested that we seek his counsel."
Before Jigme could begin translating, Tseten murmured a few words in Tibetan, evoking a smile and a nod from Jigme.
"Rinpoche assures me that his understanding of English is sufficient for our purposes, Dr. Sinclair; it is his spoken English that is not so fluent. To save time, he suggests that you speak directly to him, and I will give his answers - and, of course, clarify if he does not understand."
At Tseten's smile of inquiry, Adam gave a grateful nod.
"I thank you, Rinpoche. To the point, then, I should be extremely grateful for any guidance you may be able to offer. You have seen the evidence assembled thus far." He gestured toward the photos and sketches and flag. "Please tell us, if you can: What is the connection that binds together all these elements?"
The old lama was silent a moment, as if still mulling his answer to the question he had known would be asked. As he began to speak, Jigme supplied the English translation in quiet counterpoint to the older man's voice.
"The connection you are seeking is this individual here," Jigme said, gesturing toward Peregrine's sketch of the man in green as Tseten turned it toward Adam. "He is known to legend as the Man with Green Gloves. To explain his significance, I must acquaint you with some history I had thought and hoped was dead and past."
Tseten sat back, his fingers again seeking out the black beads of the mala as he continued.
"Are you aware, Dr. Sinclair, that before the last world war, a number of people from my homeland found reason to emigrate to Germany?"
Adam shook his head.
"Tibetan colonies were founded in Berlin and Munich in the mid-nineteen twenties," Jigme went on, translating over Tseten's voice. "It was rumored at the time that at least some of the individuals involved were black ngagspas - evil magicians - who had been recruited to work for the rising National Socialist Party. One such individual was a lama calling himself by the ancient title of Green Gloves. Legend holds that he who bears this title is possessor of the Keys to the Kingdom of Agarthi - or Asgard. These are not keys in any physical sense, but certain non-Buddhist teachings."
At Adam's nod of understanding, Jigme continued.
"As time passed, it became clear that, through these keys, Hitler and his followers hoped to obtain direct access to an Aryan root magic that they so ardently desired and sought. They sought it by other means as well. Whether or not these hopes were well-founded, Rinpoche does not know, but it is certain that the man then calling himself Green Gloves quickly gained a reputation for being able to predict the number of Nazi deputies elected to the Reichstag. Hitler is said to have consulted him frequently. Apparently he found reason to trust in Green Gloves's auguries."
Adam nodded. "Hitler's interest in such matters is well known," he said, "though 1 had not heard of a connection with Eastern disciplines. Did this extend into the war itself?"
Tseten shrugged and spoke again.
"Rinpoche was then a young monk in Tibet," came Jigme's translation, "so he has no direct experience of those days in Germany to speak with authority. However, it is said that when the Russians entered Berlin in 1945, they found one thousand Tibetan bodies in German uniforms, suicides all, bearing no rank insignia or identification. When this rumor came to Rinpoche's ears, he surmised that the individuals in question must have borne some connection with the Berlin Colony, which was suspected of practicing black magic - but he cannot affirm this for a fact."