Path of the Tiger

one of his pockets, he turned and gave the soldier a sheepishly apologetic look.

‘It’s … it’s no’ here,’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’ the man asked with a frown. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t let you out without seeing that order.’

‘It must be back in my tent. Drat! But listen,’ William said as he pulled the doctor’s note out of his pocket with trembling fingers, ‘I’m tae deliver this message straight intae the hands ay the British Commander at Sevastopol. It’s an extremely urgent matter. Extremely.’

‘Well I really can’t—’

‘Listen, I’m utterly certain tha’ it’s on my cot. Aye, now that I think about it, I’m absolutely sure ay it. I was in such a rush tae get this message tae Sevastopol tha’ I neglected tae pick up the damned order in my haste.’

‘Let me see that paper then, that will probably suffice,’ the soldier said, reaching up for the paper.

William snatched it away before the man could grasp it.

‘Lord Cardigan was extremely specific about this: nobody’s eyes, an’ I mean nobody’s, are tae look upon the contents ay this letter but the High Commander at Sevastopol himself. I’m sorry, but if I let you look at this I’m liable tae be hanged. I’m sure you can appreciate the fact tha’ I must follow Lord Cardigan’s orders tae the letter.’

The soldier folded his arms across his broad chest and shook his head.

‘Well listen, can’t you just go back to your tent and fetch the order then?’

‘I’m already bleedin’ well running late!’ William protested. ‘The urgency ay this mission cannae be understated, an’ you’re currently hindering me in carrying it out! For God’s sake, can you no’ just let me out now an’ get one ay those idle troopers over yonder tae go tae my tent an’ fetch the order? Just fill out your damned papers after I’ve left! I cannae linger here fir a moment longer!’

‘I’ll go,’ volunteered one of the troopers who was squatting near the fire. ‘Just let the lad out, Phil. Can’t you bleedin’ see he’s on a terribly urgent mission?’

‘This is highly irregular,’ the soldier next to William complained.

‘And this is highly important,’ William countered, tapping the paper with urgent fingers. ‘I must leave right now!’

‘What’s your name, Private, and which tent are you in?’ asked the other soldier, who had just stood up. ‘I’ll go find your order. You go on and get on with your mission.’

‘Private William Gisborne, 17^th Lancers, currently in medical tent 3B. Ask the doctor there which one is my cot. He’ll show you tae it. The order is sitting on my pillow.’

‘Very well, very well. Come on Phil, sign the lad out, he’s got important business to go about.’

The soldier shook his head and frowned, but he nonetheless picked up the quill and started writing in his book as the other soldier turned around and trudged into the camp to go and search for the order.

‘When do you expect to return from this mission, Private Gisborne?’

‘Before nightfall.’

‘Bloody hell, you’re that fast?!’ the man exclaimed, a look of disbelief contorting his features.

‘Best rider ay the 17^th,’ William said coolly. ‘Tha’s why Lord Cardigan chose me fir this mission.’

‘Very well. Be on your way then.’

William nodded and tipped his cap to the man, feeling a massive wave of relief rushing flash flood-like through his entire body and mind.

‘Good day tae you, trooper. Farewell!’ he cried, almost unable to disguise the elation in his voice. With that, William spurred River King into a gallop and sped through the steadily worsening snowfall, out into the thickening wall of white beyond the camp, and out of the British Army forever, for he was now a deserter.

PART FIFTEEN

50

RANOMI

31^st October 2020. KSM Nightclub, Bangkok, Thailand

The air inside the liquor crate was stiflingly humid and peppery with sawdust, and adding to this choking concoction were the diesel fumes from the truck’s engine, which rattled and chugged with a harsh clatter as the vehicle idled. Ranomi had been inside the crate for well over two hours, and despite being in a state of deep meditation and breathing only a single breath per minute, the strain of the twisted position into which her body was contorted between tightly packed liquor bottles was beginning to take its toll.

She was an experienced practitioner of yoga and meditation, and since childhood she had always been naturally extraordinarily flexible. Because of this, in addition to her tiny frame and childlike stature, it had not been hard to get her body into the liquor crate and pack enough bottles around her that she was completely concealed. Extreme care had been taken to get the exact number of bottles into the crate with her, so that the weight of the crate itself did not differ from one that was filled solely with liquor.

‘Be safe Ranomi … but remember, so much depends squarely on you.’

Zakaria’s words echoed about the corridors of her mind, bringing her further out of the meditative trance and pushing pins of pain into her heavily stretched joints and tendons.

‘I’ll get you inside, I promise you this,’ she had replied. ‘And when I make a promise, nothing can get in the way of me fulfilling it. Nothing.’

Keeping promises meant everything to Ranomi; she came from a culture in which the spoken word carried just as much, if not more authority and gravitas than the written word … yet here, now, in this situation, would she be able to make good on this promise? Never before had she undertaken a task so fraught with peril. Ever since she had found out who the Huntsmen were, all those years ago, she had been on the run from them. Awang had saved her from death at their hands once, and the terror and trauma of that particular experience had remained with her with all the dogged persistence of knotted scar tissue.

And now here she was, heading into the perilous depths of their lair, into a place crawling with deadly enemies. The thought of being alone