‘What is it, my child?’ the Abbot asked, turning to follow the direction of his gaze.
From the shadows behind the last torch a nightmare figure emerged, striding towards them. The entire top half of its body was naked, revealing brawny slab-like muscles across its abdomen. The skin was red and shining, flaked in patches stretched across the shoulders and thickset neck. Then, as it stepped further into the light, the hideous face of Drang emerged.
Both the Abbot and Norbu froze, paralysed by what they saw. The entire right side of his face was charred black, with raw flesh striped across the neckline. His right eye looked too big for the socket as the delicate skin around it had burned away. From within the exposed orbit, the damaged eye stared at them with violent hatred.
With a mighty swing of his arm, Drang knocked Norbu clean off his feet. The boy’s body arched in mid-air, before crashing down on top the flagstones with a sickening slap. He lay absolutely still as Drang swung back towards the Abbot, his singed flesh only inches from the old man’s face.
‘Rega will punish you for this,’ he seethed, and before the Abbot could even speak, he had grabbed him by the shoulder of his robes, dragging him back along the corridor to the Great Temple and the judgement that awaited him.
Chapter 53
Luca pulled the abseiling rope from his harness and turned around to find four more soldiers standing at the base of the cliff. Two of them had their rifles trained on him, covering him from a distance, while the others dragged a body through the snow by the shoulder straps of its webbing. They were heading for a small semi-circle of tents at the edge of the Kooms.
The heels of the dead soldier’s boots ploughed grooves in the deep snow and Luca followed, trying to stop himself from staring at the man’s face. His neck lolled unnaturally to one side and the entire top section of his head had caved in from the impact of a fall. As they approached the first of the tents, the body was carefully laid next to another, before the soldiers swiftly assembled two collapsible shovels and began piling snow over them both.
Bill and Luca were shunted forward towards the centre of the campsite. A single figure was standing there, waiting, the epaulettes on his shoulder glimmering gold in the moonlight.
As the big soldier from the cliff approached him, the figure listened carefully to what he was saying. Then he reached into his trouser pocket and the sudden flare of a cigarette lighter briefly illuminated the man’s face. It was ashen, with black eyes that stared at them without a trace of emotion.
The figure came closer, halting in the snow just in front of Bill and Luca. As he drew the smoke into his lungs, the tip of the cigar-ette glowed in the darkness.
‘I offer you one chance. Give me the boy and I will release the pair of you.’
The man’s voice was light, almost conversational. Both Bill and Luca remained silent.
‘The boy,’ the figure repeated.
Zhu then turned to Chen, standing just to his right.
‘Make them understand,’ he said in Mandarin.
Chen inhaled slowly, wishing the captain had chosen another of the soldiers standing nearby. An image of the Westerner standing over him with a rock raised above his head flashed through his mind. Would the captain have hesitated like that? Would the captain have spared his life?
Chen stepped forward, halting just in front of Luca. The Westerner was staring up at him, eyes shining with a mixture of arrogance and defiance. From that single look Chen sensed that he would not back down, that he wouldn’t be intimidated by a few simple punches or threats. This was going to go all the way.
He hesitated, his hands balling into fists.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Zhu snapped from behind him.
With a sudden twist of his body, Chen brought his hand whipping across Luca’s face. His head jerked backwards with the force of the blow.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Bill shouted, clambering to his feet. Immediately one of the soldiers behind him grabbed him by his shoulders while another rammed the butt of his rifle into the back of his knees, collapsing him into the snow. Bill clenched his jaw in pain as the scars across his thigh split open once again.
‘We’re British Nationals,’ he said, grimacing. ‘You’ve no right to do this.’
Zhu didn’t respond, signalling instead for Chen to continue. With a jab of his arm, he sent his fist crashing into the bridge of Luca’s nose. There was a sharp crack and Luca’s head snapped backwards. He groaned in pain then slowly raised his head again, spitting out a thick string of blood into the snow in front of him.
‘The boy,’ Zhu repeated. ‘I want the boy.’
Luca stared up at him, blood oozing out between his teeth.
‘Fucking coward,’ he said, spitting the words out.
Zhu inhaled on his cigarette, his expression unchanged. Then, with a brief nod of his head, he motioned for Chen to continue. Chen lashed out with both fists, thudding them down on to Luca’s head and chest. He did it again, and again, until sweat ran from his temples and the skin across his knuckles tore open. His eyes were half-shut as frustration boiled into a terrible anger. If only the Westerner would say something, he could stop. All he had to do was talk.
Blows rained down on Luca’s head.
‘Talk!’ Chen bellowed in Mandarin. ‘Just fucking talk!’
Luca collapsed back on to the snow, his body limp. Two more soldiers moved forward to prop him on to his knees, but Luca’s whole body swayed and his head lolled forward. Bill reached out an arm to steady him.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he murmured, taking in the terrible damage to Luca’s face. The skin above his right eye had split, weeping blood down his cheek and neck. The other cheek was already swelling, the eye above it starting to close. Bill turned to stare directly at Chen.
‘You animal,’ he hissed.
Chen stepped backwards. With his hands still clenched into fists, he stared down at the Westerner’s face. He watched the blood slowly ooze from it and a wave of guilt washed over him. All the energy seemed to drain from his body. His shoulders sagged with self-disgust. He had nearly beaten the Westerner to death with his bare hands.
Zhu stepped closer, leaning over Luca. He stubbed the cigarette out, pressing it down into the snow with the toe of his boot.
‘There are only a few hours left till dawn and my patience is running out. I am going to ask you for the last time: where is the boy?’
Luca blinked, the pounding at his temples searing right across his forehead. The figure before him swam in and out of focus and he could hear the sound of his own breathing. Eventually he shook his head.
‘No.’
There was silence as the word resonated through the still air. Chen shut his eyes, leaning his head back towards the sky. He knew what was coming. He wanted to reach across and grab hold of the Westerner, tell him to say something! Say anything! They had no idea who they were dealing with.
Zhu unclipped the pistol from the side of his belt. With a sharp click he pulled back the slider, chambering the first round and pushing off the safety. Then he slowly raised the pistol level with Bill’s head, the sights hovering just an inch from the end of his nose.
‘If you don’t care for your own life,’ Zhu said, only his eyes moving towards Luca, ‘then perhaps you will value your friend’s more highly.’
‘Tell, tell!’ Chen shouted, the words bursting from him. ‘He kill you.’
Luca looked from the pistol to Bill’s face and back again. The pain pulsing across his temples suddenly faded and every sound around the campsite seemed to amplify. The slightest movement registered in his brain, from the fidgeting of the men in the semi-circle around them, to the pleading eyes of the big soldier in front. He could see the officer’s knuckles tightening around the pistol grip and the hatred in his cold eyes. Every movement seemed to slow in that single instant, stretching out in terrible suspense.