"Better than that," he grunted. "Candid camera. A short glimpse behind the scenes in the mysterious kingdom of Nepal, courtesy of British Intelligence."
My file-cabinet mind instantly turned to the page indexed Nepal. It was part of our training to develop such a mental filing case, full of assorted bits of information. I saw a strip of land roughly 500 by 100 miles, a land where roads were considered a luxury, a buffer state between China and Chinese-controlled Tibet, and India. Hawk turned down the lights, snapped on the projector, and my mind cut off.
The first shot was a street scene, men and women, some robed and skirted, others wrapped in brilliant sari-like gowns, mingled with children driving yaks through the crowd. The old men had faces like ancient parchment, the younger people smooth skinned with black, fast-moving eyes. The buildings were pagoda-like in architectural style and the first impression I got was a land which hinted at many other lands. Plainly, both India and China intermingled their influences in Nepal. Genetically, the faces I saw, while reminding one of both the Indian and Chinese peoples, had a character of their own. The camera panned across the scene and picked up a tall man in the saffron robes of a Buddhist monk. His head was shaven, his arms powerful and bared and his face the wide-cheeked, tight-skinned countenance of the Nepalese. But his face had nothing of the ascetic, nothing of the Holy Man in it. It was an arrogant, imperious face, impassive with an intense impatience shining through it. He walked through the people who gave way to him like a monarch not a monk. Hawk's voice cut in.
"His name is Ghotak," he said. "Memorize that face. He's a monk, developer of a separatist cult, out for personal and political power. Head of the Teeoan Temple and of the Snake Society, a strong-arm group he has assembled. Ghotak claims he is an inheritor of the spirit of Karkotek, Lord of All Snakes and an important figure in Nepalese mythology."
The camera panned across the street scene again and from the way it was handled I knew the operator was an amateur. The picture cut to a shot of a stone figure with the typically almond-eyed visage of Buddhist statuary. The figure wore an ornate headdress fashioned of hundreds of serpents, and other snakes coiled about its wrists and legs.
"A statue of Karkotek, Lord of All Snakes," Hawk explained. "In Nepal snakes are sacred, and it is forbidden to kill them except under certain clearly defined, religiously oriented circumstances. To kill a snake is to risk incurring the wrath of Karkotek."
The camera switched to two figures, a man and a woman seated on twin thrones topped by a golden nine-headed serpent.
"The King and Queen," Hawk said. "He's a good man, trying to be progressive. He's hemmed in by superstitions and by Ghotak. Tradition is that the King can never appear to be receiving help or his image will be tarnished."
"Which means?" I asked.
That to help him you have to walk on eggs," Hawk answered. The camera switched again and I was looking at an elderly man in a Nehru jacket over a white cassock-like robe. White hair formed a crown over a distinguished, thin face.
"The patriarch Leeunghi," Hawk said. "He sent these pictures. A friend of the Royal family, he's carrying the ball against Ghotak. He has surmised Ghotak's real motives and intentions. He's the one sure friend we have on the spot."
Hawk snapped off the camera. "That's the principle cast of characters," he said. "Ghotak has pretty well convinced the people that he is possessor of the spirit of Karkotek and is guided by the god's wishes. He's guided, all right, but it's by the Red Chinese. They're trying to take over Nepal by flooding in 'immigrants' as fast as they can. But further, effective migration depends on a bill before the King, opening up land to the immigrants and officially welcoming them. Once the people sign a petition to the king to this effect, hell have no choice but to sign the bill."
"And this is what Ghotak is pushing for, I take it," I interjected.
"Right," Hawk said. "The Lord of All Snakes, Karkotek, wants the newcomers admitted, Ghotak tells the people. That's persuasive enough but he backs it up with two other things, his Snake Society strong-arm boys and the legend of the yeti, the abominable snowman. The yeti slays those who oppose Ghotak."
"The abominable snowman?" I scoffed. "Is he still around?"
"He's always been a big part of Nepalese life," Hawk said. "Especially among the Sherpas, the mountain people of Nepal. Don't knock it until you can prove something different"
"No pictures of the yeti?" I asked innocently. Hawk ignored me. "Where do we fit into this?" I went on. "You mentioned British Intelligence."
"It was their chestnut but their man, Harry Angsley, took seriously ill and they called on us for help" Hawk said. "They're very short-handed as it is and, of course, they didn't need to sell State or the War Department on the strategic position of Nepal. In Chinese control, it would be a direct pathway to India. In friendly hands, it could be a very tough nut for the Chinese to crack. It's vital we keep it friendly, or at least neutral. Ghotak is exerting terrible pressure on the King to sign the immigrant decree. He's getting up a final people's petition in a matter of days."
"Which accounts for all the rush," I sighed, thinking back for a moment to Donna Roodrich. "Will I get a chance to contact Angsley?"
"He's in the Khumbu region, at Namche Bazar, waiting to be flown out and to brief you on details," Hawk said. "The flight connections for you have been cleared right through by special arrangement Military jet the first part of the way, and then you switch to commercial airliner in India. Get moving, Nick. A matter of days stand between us and the Red Chinese picking up all the marbles."
Under the left wing of the airliner I saw a cluster of houses perched on a small plateau in the midst of the towering mountains, as though a giant hand had placed them there. The plane was heading for them and I could make out the narrow strip of cleared land running alongside the edge of a cliff. Snake gods, power-mad monks, superstitions and abominable snowmen. The whole thing had the flavor of a third-rate Hollywood scenario.
When the plane landed, I went directly to the small and somewhat primitive hospital where Harry Angsley waited for the plane that would take him back to England. Propped up in bed, I saw a man who was little more than a living skeleton, a hollow-eyed, sunken-faced apparition. The nurse on duty, an Indian girl, told me that Angsley had been stricken by a very severe attack of the awahl, the malarial fever that is often fatal, and rampant in the lowland swamps of the Terai area bordering India. But, with typical British courage, he was alert and willing to tell me all that he could.
"Don't underrate the place, Carter," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "It comes at you in a hundred different ways. Ghotak holds all the cards. Frankly, I think there's bloody little chance to pull this out. He's got the people all wrapped up."
A fit of coughing interrupted him and then he turned to me again, his eyes searching my face.
"I can see you'll push on with it, though," he whispered. "Sorry I can't work with you, Carter. Heard of you. Who in this bloody business hasn't? This is the plan for you. You're to slip into Katmandu and then appear as a friend of the Leeunghi family."
"I understand I'm to start out alone, camp in the Tesi Pass where a guide will meet me tomorrow night and guide me in past Ghotak's Snake Society strong-arm squad."
"Right," Angsley agreed. "That means you'll need heavy-weather equipment. Danders Trading Store here in Khumbu is the only place you can get it. It's off-season, but I hope he can outfit you. You're bigger than most who come this way. You'll also need at least one high-powered big-game rifle."
"I'll get down there right away. I nearly froze on the way here from the airport," I said.