Year Of The Tiger

Kerensky shrugged. “We can try. There’s an emergency strip at Leh which I sometimes use. That’s a village in the gorge of the upper Indus about eleven thousand feet up. From there to Rudok is only a hundred and twenty miles.”

“And can we land there all right?”

Kerensky nodded. “I’ve already had a talk with this Tibetan who’s going with you. He’s described a perfect spot about eight miles east of Rudok. A sand flat beside a lake.”

“That sounds fine,” Chavasse said. “What kind of plane are you using?”

“A de Havilland Beaver. Only a small, light plane with good maneuverability stands a chance in these mountains,” Kerensky said. “We’ll cross into Tibet through the Pangong Tso Pass. That’s maybe fifteen thousand feet up, so I’ll be scraping her belly. No picnic, I’m warning you, and there’s plenty of snow and ice up there. If you feel like backing out, say the word now.”

“And spoil your fun?” Chavasse said. “When do we leave?”

Kerensky grinned. “You know, I like you, my friend. Almost, I am persuaded to do this job for love, but my mercenary nature triumphs as usual. We’ll fly up to Leh this afternoon. There’s a full moon tonight. If the sky is clear, we can try for Rudok straightaway, but we can’t chance the passes through the mountains if there is cloud.”

“How does that suit you, Paul?” Ferguson said.

Chavasse shrugged. “The sooner we go, the sooner we’re back, as far as I’m concerned. What time?”

“Let’s make it three o’clock at the airport,” Kerensky said. “What about the Tibetan?”

“We’re going to see him now,” Ferguson told him. “I’ll arrange to have him there on time.”

They all stood up and Kerensky raised his glass in a toast. “As we say in my country, may we go to a good death.”

For a moment, his face was serious, and then he emptied his glass and grinned. “And now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’d like to finish my swim.”

He turned and dived over the rail into the yellow water and Chavasse and Ferguson crossed the gangplank to the shore and walked back to the bungalow.

Driving out of Srinager towards the refugee encampment to see Joro a little while later, Ferguson was silent, a slight frown on his face.

“What’s eating you?” Chavasse asked him.

Ferguson shrugged. “Oh, it’s probably nothing. It’s just that I get the impression Kerensky isn’t anything like so happy about this affair as he’d like to pretend.”

“For the kind of money he’s being paid, he doesn’t need to be happy,” Chavasse said. “On the other hand, he had a hell of a war. Probably worried about taking the hitcher to the well too often.”

“And you, Paul.” Ferguson glanced sideways at him. “What about you?”

“You should know better than to ask a question like that,” Chavasse said. “I go where the Bureau sends me. This is just another job as far as I’m concerned. Perhaps a little tougher than most, but that’s all.”

“But doesn’t the thought of going in there worry you?” Ferguson persisted.

“Sure it does.” Chavasse grinned. “If it didn’t, I wouldn’t go.”

Ferguson turned the car off the highway and they followed a dirt road for several miles. They were moving up through the lowlands, climbing high into grassy meadows, when suddenly they topped a small rise and saw twenty or thirty tents below, beside a small stream.

It was a peaceful scene, with the smoke of the cooking fires rising straight in the calm air. Several women stood knee-deep in the stream washing clothing, their long woollen shubas tucked into their belts, and barefooted children played a noisy game of hide-and-seek.

The tents were typically Tibetan and consisted of yak skins sewn together and stretched over a round wickerwork frame which was surrounded by a low wall of stones or turves.

The camp had a primitive, quiet charm, and Chavasse smiled as a young boy noticed their approach and called to his friends. A moment later, the whole pack of them surged forward, calling excitedly to their mothers down at the stream.

The women looked up, shading their eyes against the sun, and at that moment a horseman galloped over the crest of a hill fifty or sixty yards away, scattering a group of grazing yaks, and rode down into the camp.

He wore a long, wide-sleeved robe and sheepskin shuba which left his chest bare to the waist, and knee-length boots of untanned hide that had been dyed green. His hair was coiled into plaits on either side and covered by a conical sheepskin hat. There was a large silver ring in his left ear.

He reined in his small Tibetan horse, dismounted and came towards them, a strangely medieval figure. He was tall and muscular, and his deeply tanned face was not in the least oriental. His high cheekbones and aquiline nose gave him a definitely aristocratic air and the children, who quickly parted to let him through, ducked their heads in respect as he passed.

“Joro,” Ferguson said. “This is Mr. Chavasse.”

The Tibetan held out his hand. “I am glad you are here,” he said simply.

Chavasse was impressed. Joro’s English was excellent, but there was more to it than that. He was a man who would have stood out in any company. He looked intelligent and tough, every inch a leader – not at all the sort of man who would run away from a fight. Chavasse was intrigued.

They walked a little way out of the camp and sat down on a grassy bank. Chavasse offered Joro a cigarette, which he accepted, and took one himself. As he gave the Tibetan a light, he said, “Ferguson tells me you’re willing to return to Tibet and to help me as much as you can. Why?”

“For two reasons,” Joro said. “Because Mr. Ferguson has told me that you were one of those who helped the Dalai Lama to escape, and because you wish to help Dr. Hoffner.”

“But why did you leave Tibet in the first place? Were you in trouble?”

Joro shook his head. “I was not a suspected person, if that’s what you mean. No, Mr. Chavasse. My people are brave, but we can’t fight the Chinese with broadswords and muskets. We need modern rifles and machine guns. I came through the Pangong Tso Pass with gold in the lining of my shuba. I came to buy arms, and Mr. Ferguson has arranged this for me.”

“You’ll be taking them in with you,” Ferguson said. “It’s all fixed up. Some rifles and ammunition, a couple of submachine guns and a box of grenades. It’s all I could manage. We’ve just come from Kerensky. He wants to fly to Leh this afternoon. Is that all right with you?”

Joro nodded. “I see no reason for delay if Mr. Chavasse is ready.”

“If the weather is good, Kerensky wants to try for Rudok tonight,” Chavasse said, “so we haven’t got much time. You’d better fill me in on a few things. What’s the general state of affairs in western Tibet?”

“Very different from the rest of the country. The Chinese have built a road to link Gartok and Yarkand through the disputed territory of the Aksai Chin Plateau, which they claim from India, but there is little traffic. The area is the most sparsely populated part of Tibet, and they only control the villages and towns, and not all of those.”

“So there’s been some local resistance?”

Joro smiled faintly. “Most of my people are herdsmen who move constantly with their flocks, hard mountaineers who do not take kindly to Chinese brutality. What would you expect?”

“I thought that as Buddhists, the Tibetans were generally against any kind of violence?” Ferguson remarked.

“That was true once,” Joro said grimly, “but then the Reds came to butcher our young men and defile our women. Before the Lord Buddha brought the way of peace to us, we Tibetans were warriors. The Chinese have made us warriors again.”

“He’s right,” Chavasse told Ferguson. “When I was in the south, even the monks were fighting.”

“That is so,” Joro said. “Near Rudok at the monastery of Yalung Gompa we shall find many friends. The monks will help us in any way they can.”

“Now tell me about Hoffner,” Chavasse said. “What shape was he in when you last saw him?”

“He had been very ill. That was why I went to see him. I told him I intended to visit Kashmir and he asked me to take the letter for him.”

“He’s not closely guarded then?”

Joro shook his head. “He is allowed to continue living in his old house at Changu, which is an ancient walled