The Iron Tiger - Jack Higgins [39]
Gradually a change became noticeable. The air seemed colder and drifted steadily into their faces and the ground began to slope steeply. They paused to take stock of the situation.
'We must be coming to the edge of the rift valley,' Hamid said. 'And that means the road can't be far away. We should cut across it in another mile or so.'
They started to make their way down the hillside. The ground began to fall away until at times, they were compelled to climb very carefully, feeling for handholds.
Finally, they found themselves on the lower slopes and the going was easier over rough, moss-covered ground. Ahmed moved ahead again and was soon lost to sight, for as they descended through the rain, the mist became thicker until visibility was almost nil.
It was Drummond who heard the motor. He stopped quickly and called to Hamid. They both stood there on the hillside listening and heard the sound of truck engines.
Ahmed came running out of the mist. 'Bandong just below in the valley, sahib,' he said to Hamid. 'Four trucks stopping there. Big ones, sahib, I think they are ours.'
'What do you mean, ours?' Drummond said.
'Army trucks, sahib. Convoy from India making its way to Sadar.'
'He's right,' Drummond said. 'I'd forgotten about that. Don't they make the run once a month?'
'Only one difficulty,' Hamid said. 'If it is the usual convoy to Sadar, then it's going in the wrong direction.'
'Not if they'd heard what's happened.'
They covered the rest of the distance quickly, running and sliding down the slippery slopes until they came to a boulder-filled stream bed. On the other side they scrambled up on to a dirt road, and Ahmed motioned them to silence as a flat-roofed house loomed out of the mist.
'Bandong,' he whispered.
The truck engines had stopped and the whole world seemed to have died with them. A vague unease stirred in Drummond and then he heard the voice, the rough, familiar Irish voice, and ran forward between the houses scattered on either side of the road.
Four trucks were drawn up in a line, old Bedford three-tonners, pointing south towards India. Father Kerrigan stood bareheaded in the rain talking to a tribesman in sheepskin coat and fur hat who held an old .303 Enfield rifle in one hand and the bridle of a rough hill pony in the other.
A stone rattled under Drummond's foot and they swung round. The hillman was Colonel Sher Dil.
'Well, praise be,' Father Kerrigan said softly.
The door of one of the trucks opened and Janet Tate dropped to the ground. She was wearing the same clothes she had worn on the flight in, fur lined boots, cord pants and the sheepskin jacket Drummond had provided for her, but he didn't really notice these things. Only her eyes and the deep incredulous joy in them as she ran towards him.
9
Council of War
A CORPORAL and three privates walked forward slowly, curiosity written on their faces, and behind them, lagging slightly, his left arm heavily bandaged, came Tony Brackenhurst.
'We didn't expect to see any of you again,' Father Kerrigan said. 'The Chinese arrived so quickly that we only got out of the mission by the skin of our teeth. I drove up-river to Quala and found that the headman had already had the vehicle ferry destroyed to prevent the Chinese crossing the river with transport. Everyone in the village was being ferried over by small boats in relays.'
'Mr. Brackenhurst arrived while we were waiting our turn,' Janet continued. 'He was pretty badly burned. He told us what happened at Sadar. He thought he was the only one to get away.'
'So he was for a while,' Hamid replied calmly.
Brackenhurst looked very pale and swayed slightly, groping for the side of the truck to steady himself. Two of the soldiers moved to catch him and Father Kerrigan said, 'I think you ought to lie down again, my boy, you don't look too good. Will you see to him, Janet?'
Brackenhurst stumbled away