When he went out on the terrace twenty minutes later, dressed in cotton slacks and a clean white shirt, his hair still damp from the shower, he felt like a different man. Ferguson sat at a small table shaded by a gaudy umbrella. Beneath the terrace, the garden ran all the way down to the River Jhelum.
Quite a view youve got, Chavasse said.
Ferguson nodded. Its even nicer in the evening. When the sun goes down over the mountains, its quite a sight, believe me. The houseboy appeared, holding a tray on which stood two tall glasses beaded with frosted moisture. Chavasse picked one up, took a quick swallow and sighed with pleasure. Thats all I needed. Now I feel human again.
We aim to please, Ferguson said. Would you like something to eat?
I had a meal on the plane, Chavasse said. Id like to see Kerensky as soon as possible, if thats all right with you.
Suits me, Ferguson said, and rose to his feet and led the way down a flight of shallow stone steps to the sunbaked lawn.
As they passed through a wicker gate and turned on to the towpath, Chavasse said, What about the Tibetan? Whats he like?
Joro? Ferguson said. I think youll be impressed. Hes about thirty, remarkably intelligent and speaks good English. Apparently, Hoffner arranged for him to spend three years at a mission school in Delhi when he was a kid. He thinks the world of the old man.
Where is he now?
Living in an encampment outside the city with some fellow countrymen. Plenty of refugees trailing into Kashmir from across the border these days. He pointed suddenly. Theres Kerensky now.
The red and gold houseboat was moored to the riverbank about forty yards away. The man who stood on the cabin roof was wearing only bathing shorts. As Ferguson and Chavasse approached, he dived cleanly into the water.
Ferguson negotiated the narrow gangplank with some difficulty because of his leg, so Chavasse took the lead and gave him a hand down to the deck. It had been scrubbed to a dazzling whiteness; in fact, the whole boat was in beautiful condition.
Whats it like below? Chavasse asked. First-rate! Ferguson told him. A lot of people spend their vacation in one of these things every year.
Several cane chairs and a table were grouped under an awning by the stern and they sat down and waited for Kerensky, who had seen them and was returning to the boat in a fast, but effortless, crawl. He pulled himself over the rail, water streaming from his squat, powerful body, and grinned. Ah, Mr. Ferguson, the man with all the money. I was beginning to give you up.
My friend missed his plane in Delhi, Ferguson told him.
Jan Kerensky had an engagingly ugly face topped by a stubble of iron grey hair, and when he smiled, his skin creased in a thousand wrinkles. I hope hes got strong nerves. He turned to Chavasse. Youre going to need them where were going.
Chavasse took an instant liking to the man. According to Ferguson I couldnt be in better hands.
Kerenskys teeth flashed in a wide grin. Im inclined to agree with him, but youd better reserve your judgment. Excuse me a moment.
He padded across the deck and vanished below. Quite a character, Chavasse said.
And then some, Ferguson said. If anyone can get you there, he can.
When Kerensky came back on deck, he carried a tray of drinks and a large, folded map. He placed the tray on the table and sat down. Iced vodka, my friends. The best drink in the world.
Chavasse took a long swallow. Polish, isnt it?
But of course, Kerensky told him. Only the best for Kerensky. A man needs it in this climate to help keep him in shape. He slapped his brawny chest with one hand. Not bad for forty-five, eh, Mr. Chavasse?
Chavasse managed to keep his face straight, but it was quite an effort. Im impressed.
Kerensky pushed the tray out of the way and unfolded the map. Lets get down to business. Ferguson says youve been inside Tibet before?
Only the southeast, Chavasse told him.
The west is different, Kerensky said. Nearly all of it is fifteen, maybe sixteen thousand feet above sea level. Wild, rugged country.
And you think we can fly in?
Kerensky shrugged. We can try. Theres an emergency strip at Leh which I sometimes use. Thats 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. Ive already had a talk with this Tibetan whos going with you. Hes 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. Well cross into Tibet through the Pangong Tso Pass. Thats maybe fifteen thousand feet up, so Ill be scraping her belly. No picnic, Im warning you, and theres 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. Well fly up to Leh this afternoon. Theres a full moon tonight. If the sky is clear, we can try for Rudok straightaway, but we cant 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 were back, as far as Im concerned. What time?
Lets make it three oclock at the airport, Kerensky said. What about the Tibetan?
Were going to see him now, Ferguson told him. Ill 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, Id 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.
Whats eating you? Chavasse asked him.
Ferguson shrugged. Oh, its probably nothing. Its just that I get the impression Kerensky isnt anything like so happy about this affair as hed like to pretend.
For the kind of money hes being paid, he doesnt 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 Im concerned. Perhaps a little tougher than most, but thats all.
But doesnt the thought of going in there worry you? Ferguson persisted.
Sure it does. Chavasse grinned. If it didnt, I wouldnt 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. Joros 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 youre 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 thats what you mean. No, Mr. Chavasse. My people are brave, but we cant 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.
Youll be taking them in with you, Ferguson said. Its all fixed up. Some rifles and ammunition, a couple of submachine guns and a box of grenades. Its all I could manage. Weve 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.