The Iron Tiger - Jack Higgins [34]
He and the General turned and walked back to the troop carriers. Ho Tsen climbed into the shelter of the jeep and Cheung looked up at the sergeant who stood beside the heavy machine gun in the first troop carrier.
'You have your orders. Stop firing when you reach the Indian and the Englishman. If you harm either of them, I'll have your head.'
He climbed into the jeep beside the General and Ho Tsen smiled and offered him a cigarette. 'You were quite right, Colonel. This should prove most interesting.'
Drummond stared at the sodden earth, numb with cold and waited for what was to come. He wondered about Father Kerrigan and Janet and the boy, somewhere on the other side of the river in the mist, and prayed that the old man would have the sense to keep on the move. But the Indian border was a long way off all of three hundred miles.
A burst of shrill, girlish laughter came from the Chinese and he stiffened. They strutted towards the line of prisoners, their thin voices bird-like on the wind and Drummond dropped his head and waited.
A boot thudded into his chest and he rolled on his face and fought for breath. The wire was torn from his wrists and a kick in the side drove him to his feet. The Chinese soldier grinned amiably and held out a spade.
Drummond glanced once at Hamid and they started to dig. The soil was soft and sandy and lifted easily. Beside them the other prisoners worked silently, and as Drummond bent to his task, he knew with a feeling of utter hopelessness that it wouldn't take very long.
The rain increased into a heavy downpour and the Chinese turned and ran to the shelter of their vehicles leaving one man on guard, a sub-machine gun crooked in one arm.
The trench was now a couple of feet down and Drummond wondered how deep they wanted it. Six feet was the statutory requirement for a grave back home, but it was unlikely that the Chinese bothered about such niceties.
He leaned on his spade for a moment and Hamid moved closer. 'I don't suppose we've got much longer,' Drummond said.
Hamid glanced once over his shoulder at the mist rolling up from the river. 'Not if I can help it. Any good at the hundred yard dash, Jack?'
Drummond frowned in bewilderment. 'What in the hell are you talking about?'
'This,' Hamid said crisply and slapped him heavily in the face.
As Drummond staggered back, momentarily dazed, the guard hurried across to see what the disturbance was about. He leaned over the trench, the sub-machine gun pointed threateningly and Hamid swung the edge of the spade against his neck. The man fell into the trench without a sound.
The rain was now a heavy grey curtain that almost shrouded them from the troop carriers and the jeep. Hamid snatched up the guard's sub-machine gun, scrambled out of the trench and ran towards the river. Drummond went after him, slipping and stumbling in the mud.
Behind him he heard a cry and glanced over his shoulder. The other prisoners were strung out in a ragged line, running for dear life. Beyond them, the first Chinese had already reached the trench, firing as they advanced, and one of the troop carrier's heavy machine guns opened up above their heads.
The river was very close now and he increased his pace as he smelled water. A bullet plucked at his heel and he tripped and fell heavily. Hamid was beside him in an instant. He dragged him to his feet and together they stumbled down the slope to the water.
The river was in a sullen, angry mood. It ran smoothly through the heavy rain, but sudden swirls on the surface indicated dangerous currents and the speed with which tree branches drifted by argued against any attempt to reach the other side.
There was a rattle of stones and earth behind and one of Sher Dil's soldiers ran past, his face purple with effort so that a scar which stretched from one eye to the corner of his mouth