The Midas Legacy

8

‘Well, this is nice, innit?’ said Eddie as he stepped down from the small turboprop aircraft. The runway of Jumla airport, over two hundred miles west of the capital Kathmandu, was a bumpy line of snow-scabbed asphalt along a narrow valley floor, meagre little fields abutting the boundary fence. The surrounding mountains were blanketed by clouds, a chill morning dampness permeating everything.

‘Lovely,’ Nina replied, huddling in her thick jacket. ‘This friend of yours, will he be here yet?’

‘Jayesh? Yeah. If he says he’s going to do something, it gets done.’ They collected their backpacks and headed for the small terminal building.

A short Nepalese man with a drooping grey-speckled moustache awaited them. ‘Chase,’ he grunted, the tip of the cigarette dangling from his mouth glowing red. ‘Huh. You got fat.’

‘I’m not fat! It’s just the coat, you cheeky old git,’ Eddie replied, grinning, as they shook hands. ‘How’ve you been?’

The Nepali shrugged. ‘All right, I suppose.’

Eddie made introductions. ‘Nina, this is Jayesh Rai. I worked with him in Afghanistan when I was in the SAS — he’s a Gurkha. Jayesh, this is my wife, Nina Wilde.’

‘Namaste,’ said Jayesh.

Nina almost extended her hand to him, before remembering from her research on the country that it was considered impolite for a man to shake a married woman’s hand. ‘Namaste,’ she echoed instead. He gave her a tiny nod that she took as approval. ‘I’ve never met a Gurkha before. You’re supposed to be the best soldiers in the world, aren’t you?’

‘They like to think so,’ Eddie sniffed.

‘Better than SAS. Got some stories about Chase,’ Jayesh told her. ‘Caught him once in training. Jumped out of a bush behind him and put my blade to his neck. Thought he was going to soil himself.’

She turned to Eddie, unable to hold in a smile. ‘Really?’

‘Nope,’ he said, frowning at his former comrade. ‘He’s full of… poop.’ Jayesh’s stony face almost displayed something resembling amusement. ‘So, you got transport?’

‘Truck outside,’ the Nepali said. ‘Two hours to the end of the road. Got something else to go up the mountain. Come on, then.’ He donned a brimless felt cap and a multicoloured scarf, then started for the exit.

‘Right charmer, isn’t he?’ said Eddie as he and Nina followed him outside.

‘He’s… brusque, yeah,’ she agreed. ‘So are the Gurkhas really that good?’

He dropped his voice. ‘Annoyingly, yeah. If you’re ever in a fight, you don’t want to be on the opposite side to the Gurkhas. Don’t tell him I said that, though.’

They wedged their bags into the rear bed of a dented Toyota pickup truck. ‘Cigarette, Chase?’ asked the Gurkha, offering a crumpled golden packet.

‘I gave up,’ the Englishman told him.

That produced Jayesh’s first visible display of emotion: surprise. ‘Gave up? You?’

‘Realised it wasn’t doing me any good, so I quit. And I’m definitely not going to start smoking again — I’ve got a little girl now.’

Jayesh shook his head. ‘Weird world,’ he muttered, though it wasn’t clear which of the two revelations he found more unexpected. ‘Okay, get in.’

They boarded, Jayesh taking the wheel after reluctantly stubbing out his cigarette. Eddie regarded the gloomy mountains ahead. ‘Glad I brought my warm socks,’ he said. ‘You ready for this, love?’

‘Yeah, I am,’ said Nina. ‘Let’s go in search of history.’

‘I know it’s the name of your book, but it’s still a rubbish catchphrase,’ Eddie replied. She glared at him. ‘Think we’d better move before she chucks me out on the street,’ he told Jayesh.

‘She hasn’t already? Must be love,’ the Gurkha remarked before starting the engine.

Jayesh’s estimate of the journey time proved optimistic, the road into the mountains in a dismal state of repair. But when the bumpy ride finally ended in a small village, Nina was even less impressed by the mode of transport the Nepali had arranged for the final ten miles. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

He shrugged. ‘This, or walk.’

‘I might walk!’

A trio of yaks, outfitted with colourful saddles and reins, had been brought to them by a round-faced local woman. ‘You’ve ridden a camel,’ Eddie reminded his wife. ‘This won’t be any harder.’

‘I hated riding a camel,’ she retorted.

‘So hopefully this’ll be an improvement!’

It wasn’t. ‘Next time I have the urge to travel to the butt-end of beyond,’ Nina complained, desperately uncomfortable after straddling her shaggy-haired mount’s broad back for an hour, ‘remind me of this, will you?’

‘Not much point, is there?’ Eddie said with a smug smile. ‘I do that every time, and you always still want to come.’

‘You know, everyone hates a smart-ass…’

But the reason for the switch from four wheels to four hooves was clear. The terrain had soon become impassable for even the most capable off-roader, and only grew more extreme as they gained altitude. The narrow path they were following clung in places to steep cliffs, the yaks brushing the rock faces on one side while overhanging steep slopes the other. However, the animals, though ungainly-looking, were stable and sturdy, plodding tirelessly uphill.

The weather improved as they went higher. It was bitingly cold when the wind blew, but the clouds had parted enough for the midday sun to break through, lighting up the snowy wastes with an almost unnatural clarity. Nina’s mood improved a little as she took in the stark beauty around them. ‘Jayesh!’ she called. ‘How much further?’

Their guide was at the head of the little caravan, wreathed in cigarette smoke. ‘About four kilometres to go,’ he reported after consulting a map. He pointed at a mountain ahead. ‘Go around that side and up, monastery should be there.’

Nina surveyed the peak. ‘So that’s Dragon Mountain? It’s weird thinking that an ancestor of mine was here a hundred and seventy years ago — and that I knew nothing about it until now. Why wouldn’t Mom have told me?’

‘Maybe she didn’t want you to rush off after him,’ Eddie said. ‘Would you want Macy to come up here?’

‘Perhaps? When she was old enough? Okay, fair point,’ she conceded, before a note of parental longing entered her voice. ‘She must be missing us — I know I’m missing her.’

‘Me too. But she sounded okay when we rang from Kathmandu, and Holly said everything was fine. I’m more worried about what happens when we get to this monastery.’

‘Why are you worried?’

‘You tell ’em you’ve worked out their secret, and they invite you to come and see it in person, but only if you don’t tell anyone? That’s not suspicious or anything. But it’s one of the reasons I asked Jayesh to give us a hand — in case things turn iffy.’

‘Oh God. Please don’t tell me that you asked one of your old army buddies to bring guns to a Buddhist monastery.’ An alarming thought struck her. ‘You haven’t brought that stupid hand cannon of yours, have you?’

‘No, I sold the Wildey before Macy was born,’ replied Eddie, slightly offended. ‘A gun in the same apartment as a kid? I’m not an idiot. Plus I got fed up of the faff of New York’s gun rules.’

‘Good.’

‘But Jayesh still came prepared. Didn’t you, mate?’

The Nepali held up a polished automatic pistol. ‘Great,’ said Nina, sighing in despair.

‘He’s more of a budda-budda Buddhist. But he’s got something quieter too.’

Jayesh reached under his coat to draw something from behind his back. ‘Yeah.’

‘It’s a kukri,’ Eddie explained as Nina goggled at the eighteen-inch blade he had produced. It resembled a machete, though curved inwards past the dark wooden hilt rather than straight. ‘Gurkha knife. They use ’em for all kinds of stuff, but in a fight… put it this way, you want to be well clear even if you’ve got a gun. I’ve seen a Gurkha chuck one of those and score a bullseye from over a hundred feet away — and it hit so hard, the blade went right through the wood.’

Jayesh put on a performance, flipping and spinning the kukri in his hand so quickly that Nina could barely follow before balancing it by the point of the blade on a fingertip — all while his yak continued its wallowing plod. ‘Second World War, Gurkha unit killed a whole German squad without using a single bullet,’ he said proudly. He tossed the blade into the air, then snatched it as it fell and smoothly returned it to an elaborate leather scabbard across his lower back.

‘That’s… cool,’ said Nina, dismayed. The Yorkshireman grinned, while the Gurkha came his closest yet to cracking a smile.

They continued onwards. The path narrowed once more as they rounded the mountain, the wind whipping up little eddies of ice crystals, before eventually widening out into a natural amphitheatre, a large sloping bowl cut into the mountainside. A sheer drop at its lower end fell several hundred feet into a desolate valley. Above, at the rear of the great space, a towering wall of stone rose almost vertically towards the peak high above.

At its foot was the monastery.

Nina yanked the reins to halt her mount. ‘Oh my God, Eddie! Look at that!’

He halted his own yak. ‘All right, yeah — that’s pretty impressive.’

Detsen monastery was a collection of wood and stone buildings strung out along the cliff’s base, some dug into the sheer face itself. At the closest end of the ribbon of structures was a gate, the only apparent entrance, set into a high wall running the length of the remote retreat. At its far end, a tall tower seemed almost to be teetering at the top of the slope, hugging the rock face behind it. Long rope lines bearing dozens of brightly coloured pennants, Buddhist prayer flags, stretched from its snow-laden rooftop down to various points on the hillside. ‘Impressive?’ she hooted. ‘It’s stunning!’

‘Get your camera out, quick. You could make a few quid selling pictures to the National Geographic.’

‘Someone watching from the wall,’ said Jayesh, as much in warning as observation.

Nina spotted a figure atop a small tower near the gate. The man gave scale to his surroundings, the wall over twenty feet high. It was clearly defensive, dotted with windows that were too small for anybody to get in, but large enough for those inside to aim weapons out. It would be almost impossible for anyone to gain access without the monks allowing it.

The monastery’s residents also controlled access to higher parts of the mountain. Beyond the tower, she picked out some kind of pathway ascending across the cliff face. The only way to reach it seemed to be from the tower’s top. Was it the route Tobias Garde and his companions had taken to the Midas Cave?

The trio set off again, their yaks shuffling through the snow towards the gate. As they got closer, Nina picked out details that deepened her suspicions about the monastery having been moved to protect the cave. Her archaeological training had familiarised her with architectural styles and techniques of the past, and it seemed that the higher, most ornate parts of the buildings dated from an earlier period than the lower levels on which they stood. It was possible that the monks had raised the top floors and built new ones underneath them… but more likely that they had reconstructed parts of the original monastery in their new home on the mountain.

They soon reached the gate. Jayesh called out to the man on the wall, who bowed his head before replying, then disappeared from view. A short wait, then the wooden blockade slowly swung open.

A reception committee waited in the narrow courtyard within. ‘Hello?’ said Nina as she dismounted with relief and approached a pair of orange-robed monks. ‘I’m Nina Wilde — this is my husband Eddie Chase, and our guide Jayesh Rai.’ She regarded the older of the two bald-headed men. ‘Are you Amaanat?’

‘I am he,’ he replied, placing his palms together before bowing deeply. The younger man beside him did the same. ‘I am the abbot of this monastery. This is Rudra.’ Amaanat indicated his companion.

The abbot matched Nina’s earlier mental picture, but with one major exception: he had a deep crooked scar running down the left side of his face from the crown of his forehead all the way to his jawline. He was also much more solidly built than she had imagined, still muscular despite his age. His eyes were gentle, but she couldn’t help but feel that before becoming a monk, he had lived a hard and violent life.

‘I’m honoured to meet you,’ she said. ‘Namaste.’

‘Hi,’ said Eddie, offering his hand. Rudra regarded him with barely concealed disapproval, but Amaanat smiled and shook it.

‘Welcome to Detsen,’ he said. ‘Was your journey pleasant?’

‘I’ve had more comfortable ones,’ said Nina, glancing back at the yaks as another monk gathered their reins.

‘Yes. They are the only way to reach us. In summer, a yak train brings supplies every two weeks and takes back our goods to sell, but in winter the weather is too bad even for them. Had you wanted to visit a few weeks sooner, it would have been impossible.’

‘So you’re trapped here over the winter?’ Eddie asked.

Amaanat shook his head — a motion that in Nepal meant yes rather than the Western opposite. ‘We have everything we need. If there is an emergency, we have a satellite telephone. As you already know, Dr Wilde.’

‘I’m glad you do,’ she said. ‘Communicating by letter would have been a lot more laborious!’ The thought occurred that her mother hadn’t necessarily written to the monastery after meeting her father; with the monks being cut off for part of the year, her questions may simply have taken a long time to reach them, and longer to be returned.

The abbot smiled politely. ‘You have had a long trip. Please, let us offer you our hospitality.’

He led them into a large building nearby. ‘Our debate house,’ said Amaanat. The interior was dark, lit only by candles, but the square room was surprisingly warm considering the temperature outside. A statue of the Buddha dominated the wood-panelled space, the larger-than-life figure sitting cross-legged beyond the doorway. There was another door opposite the entrance, but the monk took them around the statue and through a side exit into a system of tunnel-like chambers carved from the rock. More candles lit the way, with an occasional electric light providing greater illumination. Other monks watched them curiously, moving respectfully aside to give them room to pass.

Amaanat and Rudra brought them to an egg-like space with a low table at its centre, plain plates already set upon it. ‘Please, sit,’ the abbot said, gesturing towards cushions on the floor. ‘We will bring food, and tea.’ His eyes met Nina’s. ‘Then I imagine you are impatient to see what has brought you here.’

Rudra spoke for the first time, his English more clumsy. ‘You have already broken promise,’ he said. He was calm on the surface, but obviously holding in anger. ‘You promise not to tell anyone you come here. But you bring others with you!’

‘Eddie’s my husband,’ Nina replied. ‘What I know, he knows.’

‘Plus there was no way I was letting her come here by herself,’ Eddie added, giving the younger man a steely glare. ‘Anything could’ve happened to her. Which is why I asked Jayesh to come along too.’ He nodded at his stone-faced friend. ‘He speaks the language, so if anything funny goes on, he’ll let us know.’

Rudra frowned, about to say more, but Amaanat waved him to silence and smiled. ‘There is no need to worry, Mr Chase. Or you, Dr Wilde. I believe you will honour your promise of secrecy. You will understand why the Midas Cave is best kept from the rest of the world. It was a mistake for our order to have shown it to outsiders at all, but at the time they believed it justified.’

‘Why?’ Nina asked.

Rather than reply, he rang a small bell. Two more monks entered, one bearing a tray of fruits and vegetables, the other an ornately decorated teapot and five cups. ‘Please, eat and drink,’ said Amaanat. ‘Then I shall give you the answers you seek.’