The Cloud Maker

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.

‘OK,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll tell you what you want to know.’

Zhu didn’t respond but held the pistol level, waiting for him to continue.

‘There’s a monastery a few hours from here, over the mountain,’ Luca said, his voice a rambling, continuous flow. ‘The boy is being held there by the monks.’

‘It is as I thought,’ Zhu said. ‘Do you know the way to the monastery from here?’

Luca looked across at Bill’s face. He was frozen still, his eyes screwed shut. His lips were moving in silent prayer.

‘I know the way.’

‘Then I don’t need you both,’ Zhu said, and his hand suddenly jerked upwards. There was a deafening crack and Bill was flung back behind them on to the snow. He lay flat, arms stretched out behind his head, and remained perfectly still.

Luca stared, his mind reeling, stunned by the noise of the explosion. It resonated through every fibre of his body, deafening him. A thin spray of blood was wet upon his face and he stared in mute horror at the empty space where Bill had just been.

Suddenly his whole body began to shake, horror rising up from his chest in choking, gasping waves. His mind felt numb, detached from what he had just witnessed by complete disbelief. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible that Bill could be dead. He turned, his eyes passing over the prostrate form in the snow behind him. A patch of black blood was fanning out from under the head.

Luca was dimly aware of the other soldiers moving behind him. They had turned their heads away from the scene, staring silently up to the far mountain as if trying not to register what they saw.

‘We leave at first light,’ Zhu commanded, his voice matter-of-fact as he addressed the men. ‘We will get the Westerner to lead us there. When we reach the monastery, it is imperative that the boy is taken alive.’

Zhu stared down at Luca’s grief-stricken face.

‘And take his boots. That should ensure he doesn’t try to leave us during the night.’

With that he turned back towards his own tent. The remaining soldiers slowly dispersed, one of them running a knife down the laces of Luca’s boot and pulling them from his feet so that he stood in his socks in the snow. Despite the icy cold, he didn’t even notice.

In only a few moments he was alone with the body of his friend. Finally the tears came. He wept in choked bursts, his right hand clutching on to Bill’s chest as he felt the body heat slowly drain away.

He had no idea how much time had passed before he was lifted to his feet. He felt his arm being pulled over the big soldier’s wide back as he was helped across the open patch of snow to a tent.

Chen gently lowered him inside, pulling his own sleeping bag across Luca’s legs. Without a word, Luca curled up into the foetal position, eyes staring blankly at the dark wall of the tent.

Chen straightened up, inhaling the cold night air. He stared at the far line of mountains. The peaks seemed to trail seamlessly into the night. It was the dark before dawn and an eerie calm presided over the world. He let his hand pass over the breast pocket of his jacket and the photos of his family inside. He tried to picture his son’s smiling face, but could see only the faint silhouette of the Westerner lying dead in the snow.

He had always been told that the boy’s capture was their only mission, but when they reached the monastery at daybreak tomorrow, what was really going to happen?

Chen inhaled again, feeling the freezing air sear his lungs. He shut his eyes and tried harder to visualise his own boy.

Deep inside, he already knew what Zhu was planning.

Chapter 54

Two heavy climbing boots landed on Luca’s chest. He reached up slowly, running his fingers over the worn canvas and hard, rubberised soles. From somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognised them as his own.

Through the triangular opening of the tent door, he saw the broad-set face of the same Chinese soldier who had beaten him.

‘Get up,’ the soldier whispered, his eyes anxious.

Luca dragged himself upright, his bruised body leaden and unresponsive. He stared at the soldier from puffy, black-ringed eyes, the whole left side of his face swollen and distorted. His mouth hung open, dry blood splattered across his lips as he just sat there, his mind reeling with confusion.

The soldier reached forward with one arm and dragged Luca closer to the opening.

‘Get boots on,’ he said, keeping his voice low.

Luca reached down automatically, pulling the tongue of the boots wide and jamming them on over his iced up