The Iron Tiger - Jack Higgins [47]
He had kept on the move for most of the night, often at no more than ten miles an hour in the appalling conditions, on several occasions almost losing the vehicle, but there was always the hope that Father Kerrigan and his party might be at Bandong. It was an obvious stopping place. When they had reached the village, he had sent the sergeant and ten men in on foot, giving them five minutes' start before following in the troop carrier.
'What's going on here?' he demanded.
The sergeant, a small, hard-faced Cantonese named Ng, hurried forward. 'The village is empty, Colonel, except for these two. Deserters from the look of them.'
'Deserters?' Cheung's face changed, went pale with excitement as he pushed his men aside and examined Piroo. 'Who are you?' he demanded in Urdu. 'One of Colonel Sher Dil's men? Did you escape across the river?'
'No, sahib,' Piroo said. 'I was with the supply convoy.'
'The convoy was here?' Cheung said. 'Where is it now?'
'Gone, sahib, to India with Colonel Sher Dil and the young Khan. They are hoping to reach the border.'
'Sher Dil was here?' Cheung said in amazement.
'Oh, yes, sahib,' Piroo babbled. 'Also Major Hamid and Drummond sahib. They all crossed the river from Sadar.'
'When did they leave?'
'Yesterday, two hours before dark. They intended to camp somewhere along the road when night fell. I heard the colonel say so.'
Cheung laughed excitedly, slapping his leather swagger stick across his gloved palm. 'Get the men together at once, Sergeant. We're going on.'
He turned to the door and Sergeant Ng said quickly, 'What shall I do with this one, sir?'
Cheung looked at Piroo with something close to affection. 'Let him go free, he has served us well.'
He went out and Piroo, to whom the interchange in Chinese had been completely unintelligible, turned eagerly to Sergeant Ng.
A strange man, the colonel, the sergeant told himself. Full of wild fancies, but a good officer for all that. He nodded to one of his men who grabbed Piroo suddenly, clamping a hand over his mouth.
Piroo saw the knife coming up, felt a coldness streaking under the ribs to the heart and plunged into darkness. They left him there by the fire, and a moment later the troop carrier moved away, its tracks scattering mud from the street across the walls of the houses.
11
The Bridge at Sokim
'I CAN see the bridge,' Sher Dil said, 'and it's still standing.'
'Thank God for that.' Drummond took the binoculars and focussed them quickly. 'There certainly doesn't seem to be anybody about.'
'And no cover for an ambush,' Hamid said. 'We'd better cross now while the going's good.'
They dispersed to the trucks and Drummond ploughed through the mud and heaved himself up beside Ahmed, glad to be back inside. It had rained without pause all morning, turning the road into a rutted quagmire through which they had progressed at little more than fifteen miles per hour.
They went over the hill and the road dropped steeply towards the great ravine which cut its way through the heart of the mountains. Ahmed selected bottom gear and followed Sher Dil cautiously.
The bridge was a narrow spindly thing, fit only for one-way traffic. As the road levelled off to approach it, the other trucks slowed to a halt and Ahmed braked quickly.
'I'll see what's happening,' Drummond said and jumped down.
Sher Dil leaned over the parapet examining the web of rusty steel girders. He turned as Drummond approached.
'It would take the Chinese a long time to construct another. A demolition expert's dream.'
'Thinking of doing it yourself?'
'I don't see why not. It wouldn't take long. We'll cross over first, though.'
As Drummond went back to his own vehicle, Hamid leaned out of the cab of the supply truck. 'What was he up to?'
'He wants to stop and blow up the bridge. What do you think?'
'An excellent idea. It would block the road for months.'
'Don't you think it might advertise