A few more minutes of scavenging got him a wide straw hat, which he slanted down over his forehead.
There was still the problem of his modern Western bag. He gave a resigned sigh, then removed his copy of Random and Li Lan’s brochure from the bag and put them in the shirt’s wide hip pocket. He took out his toothbrush, toothpaste, and razor and put them in the other pocket, and shoved Simms’s pistol into the back of his pants at the waist. Then he rolled the bag up tightly and put it under his arm until he could find a safe place to dump it.
He paused at the top of the stairs and listened. The t‘ai chi was still going on, and he could hear the clatter of kettles and plates from the kitchen. He hustled down the stairs and went to find a back exit, then passed through the row of statues and under another arch into a broad courtyard.
To his left, a small pagoda supported a bronze bell about nine feet high and eight feet around. A monk sat by the ladder leading up to the bell, but he didn’t seem to notice Neal. To Neal’s right, a twenty-foot tower rose over the monastery walls. It had fourteen levels, with large characters inscribed on each level. Neal walked through the courtyard and up some steps into a large temple.
The usual saints were there, and a large Buddha, but the central figure was a sixteen-foot-tall bronze statue of a man sitting astride an elephant.
Okay, Neal thought, now we’ll see if Li Lan’s word is any good after all.
“Did you steal those clothes?” he heard her ask.
“Yup.”
She came out from behind one of the statues. She was wearing cotton peasant pants and an old Mao jacket and cap. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she threw her arms around him.
“You are alive,” she whispered.
He hugged her back. It felt great.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said. “They’ll be coming after us. There’s a traitor in your old man’s operation.”
He felt her body tense.
“You led them here?” she asked.
“They know anyway. Listen to me. One of your father’s people, Peng, is a mole, a traitor. He’s working for the other side. You didn’t tell me your father was working against the government.”
“He is working to become the government.”
“Is he part of this ‘Sichuan Mafia’?”
“I have heard it called that, yes.”
“Pendleton’s on the mountain?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“Is there any other way off the mountain? An escape route?”
“It is very dangerous. Over the top and down the western side. Then by foot road to Tibet. It is very long and very dangerous. But the Yi people hate the government. They would lead us. And hide us.”
“Okay,” he said, “here’s the deal. You take me to Pendleton. If he wants to stay, fine. He stays and takes his chances. If he wants to leave, your people give us a guide and supplies and we hit the road to Tibet. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Well, half a deal anyway. Peng wasn’t sitting at the table.
“Tell me the truth,” he said. “If Pendleton decides to stay, is he committing suicide? Is there a chance you can make it while Peng knows what’s going on?”
She nodded. “Father is very powerful. Peng will be afraid to move against him without proof. He will need possession of Robert and me, and to connect us with Father.”
“Can he do that?”
She nodded again. “Father is on mountain.”
“Jesus Christ! Why?”
She smiled wanly. “To see Robert, to see me, to see my sister. It was to have been a happy family reunion.”
Maybe it still can be, Neal thought. If two can walk to Tibet, so can five. But none of that can happen unless we can get to the top before we get caught.
“Let’s get going,” he said.
The path led out the back of the monastery on a narrow raised road flanked by fields where a few farmers were at work. Neal and Li came to a bridge over a rapid creek, and Neal tossed his bag into the water.
The path was level and the walking easy as the path ran beside another creek, past ancient, gigantic banyan trees. The countryside was still fairly open, and they could see the rocky crags of Emei’s lower slopes. They came to a village of about a hundred pleasant, thatch-roofed wooden houses amid a grove of tall bamboo. Neal sat at the edge of the path as Lan stopped at one house and came out a minute later with two mantou and two bamboo cups of tea. They sat under the bamboo and ate quickly, then started back up the path, which went across another bridge and then up a steep incline through a thick forest of fir trees.
It emerged into open country between the creek and a high, rocky knoll on which was perched a large monastery. It was midmorning, the sun was out, and Neal felt sweat beginning to break out on his back and then trickle down his spine. Li Lan was setting a healthy pace, and the increasing pitch didn’t seem to bother her. Neal had thought that walking up the stone steps would be easier than struggling up an incline, but the backs of his thighs were already starting to ache and the soles of his feet felt the pounding.
Another half hour of climbing took them under a wooden arch where four wooden poles supported three tiled, curved roofs, and then up along the edge of a knoll to an ornate monastery. A broad terrace looked out over a deep, forested chasm.
“We will rest here,” Li said.
“If you really want to,” Neal said between gasps.
“This is an historic place,” Li said, “where Emperor Kang-hsi visited and gave the abbot a jade seal.”
“When was this?” Neal asked, eager to keep up the conversation-and the breather.
“Qing Dynasty. In your time, the late sixteenth century.”
Around the time of Shakespeare, Neal thought.
“Emperor Kang-hsi gave this place the name ‘Dragon’s Abode.’”
“Did dragons live here?”
Li laughed. “No, but wolves and tigers did, down the hill, until the abbot built a watchtower with fire to scare them off. The fire at night looked like a dragon’s mouth. So the name is a funny joke.”
“Pretty droll emperor.”
“The resting time is finished.”
Which will teach me to mouth off about the emperor.
To Neal’s surprise and relief, the path went downhill in a switchback around another steep knoll. It crossed and recrossed the curving river on stone bridges, finally working its way down to a waterfall about twelve feet high.
They crossed the river just downstream of the waterfall, and Neal enjoyed the spray of the cool water as he passed by. He looked over the bridge into a pool, where smooth stones sparkled like jade. Then he followed Li around what looked to be an enormous monastery. Li went in a side gate and emerged a few minutes later with two wooden bowls of rice and some pickled vegetables. Neal shoveled the food down gratefully while sitting on the path, and then they started off again.
The path led to a ferociously steep, zigzag incline surrounded by a thick bamboo forest. Each switchback led to just another switchback, higher than the last, on the very edge of the mountain. The view was stunning, overlooking the valleys and plains to the east and the path they had just ascended, but after three or four switchbacks, Neal stopped looking. He just put his head down and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his eyes stung from perspiration and fatigue.
He almost missed the tree with the “wanted” poster on it.
‘“What’s this?” he asked Li.
A sketch of a monkey’s face had been nailed to a tree.
“Bandit monkey,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Bandit monkey?”
“Yes, it offers a reward for this monkey… named One Fang… because it has been robbing pilgrims. There are many bandit monkeys on Emei. Only the very worst get a poster.”
She started back up the hill.
Bandit monkeys, Neal thought. He pictured Central Park with gangs of simian muggers running around, dropping on people out of trees… taking their peanuts… then gave up the fantasy. Central Park was bad enough.