II. TIBET
It was unbearably hot where he was. For a moment Harry thought that perhaps it had all been a bad dream, caused by the tropical sun of Burma. Perhaps he had just fallen asleep in the sun? Slowly he managed to open his eyes, but his vision was blurred. It was a ceiling he was looking at. Almost laughing at his own sluggishness he looked sideways. His neck hurt a lot in the process, but he managed to get a glimpse of a small room, lit by a single candle. His head returned to the original position. Soon he was gone in feverish dreams.

"… still have a fever." Said a female voice with an Indian accent. Harry looked up, feeling sweat running down his forehead. Now he understood what it felt like to be sick…! It was as if his body was bruised and tired all over. His head was drained like that of a ninety year old scholar. His feet were heavy and hands cold. He had not been this sick since he was a boy… As he looked up again, the room was darker. Had he been asleep? Rising up on an elbow he saw the Indian woman was still in the room.
"Hey… lady, where am I?" He rasped. Suffering from a soar throat, it was not easy to talk. She jumped at his comment.
"You are to be in bed!" She ordered and walked over to him. "Lie down." He gave up a faint grin as she pushed him down again.
"You are from India?" He asked.
"Indeed I am… very clever of you!" She said sarcastically. "And you are British I now hear."
"I like your accent." He said. "Refreshing." She just gave him a glance while straightening her sari.
"If you knew how bad you looked, you would not try to… impress me." She said. Harry was taken slightly aback by the comment.
"What is your name?" He finally inquired.
"My name is Sanjana Savitashri." She answered while pouring up some cold water into a bucket.
"Gentle lustre of the sun." He said, once again reclining on one of his elbows to be able to see her. She looked up from the water.
"You know Indian?" She asked. "I am impressed…"
"I know many languages…" He said. "Where am I?"
"You are in the monastery outside which you were found." Harry stiffened slightly. Damn. He thought. "I was on a pilgrimage, but when I heard that the monks here needed help to treat the wounded, I abandoned the pilgrimage. It was me who found you."
"Very… unselfish of you." Muttered Harry. Thinking that if he would have found himself lying about, he would most probably have left himself.
"I found you by the great tree."
"Where… are my things?" He asked.
"In the box by your feet." Sanjana answered. "Only a pair of clothes and a small pouch." He lay back on his pillow. Then his treasure was still safe then! Sanjana came up to him with a cold wet cloth, putting it on his forehead.
"Now…" She said. "Sleep." And so he did.

The next morning came rapidly. The bright pale sun shone down from the endless blue above. Harry had woken without fever, felling much better. He had got out of the too small bed, pulled his torn, but washed, jeans on and looked out the window. Outside were the remains of the Tibetan temple. They were almost ruins, as if a God of War had descended upon them to wreak revenge for some profanity. He was obviously living in a corner of a courtyard, in something that he guessed had been a storage wing. Judging by the looks of the people walking below, he guessed there was more wounded here. Touching his neck, he could only feel a faint sting where there had been a wound. He also discovered a five-day stubble on his chin.

"Not looking our best today, eh?" He mumbled to himself while turning towards the room again. After going through all drawers, he finally found something that resembled a jumper. He brought it to the window, examining it in the light. Made out of yak hair it was dark grey with yellow rims. Not daring to put it on directly he first took on his grey stained t-shirt. Although it had been washed too, it had clearly seen better days. Now he pulled on the yak hair jumper. Thankfully it did not itch much. He went again to the window. Instantly his thought went to planning on how he was to get out of here. If he was lucky, there would be Jeeps left. If there were none left… He shuddered at the thought of trekking down. Tomorrow… he could not go today. But he did need supplies.

About an hour later he had managed to relieve some monk of a pair of sturdy boots, gather a week's worth of food in a backpack and supply himself with a boiling pot. It was not hard, as he was an adept thief. Perhaps not the best of treasure hunters, he admitted to himself, but taking guarded objects was his speciality! Now he stood in a corner of the hastily put together kitchen, observing. People came and went, taking food from the two old ladies standing cooking over a great sparkling fire. For a time he just looked at them. Then, when a larger group of people came by, he moved slightly… taking a few water bottles from a shelf. Filling them would not be a problem. As he turned and was about to leave, some new faces appeared from a side entrance, making him spin around towards the cooking ladies again. He could not believe it! How could they still be here?!? He listened again. It was indeed Chloe, he knew that voice well by now… And that damn Sullivan. Why was he even in Tibet? Harry edged around the room, always with the back towards the couple, before sneaking out into the courtyard. There he stopped. If they were here, then Drake was here…

"That smell…" He could hear Chloe say. "It smells like…"
"Porridge?" Asked Sully.
"No, not that smell…!" She laughed at him."Probably nothing… it can't be…"
"No." Harry mumbled to himself while slipping back up the stairs, carefully allowing himself to remain unseen. "It can't be…"

By evening, when the sun had already set behind the soaring mountains, he had shuffled the backpack and boots under the bed. As dusk settled, he was pretending to be asleep when Sanjana returned. She was talking to someone at the door. He did not know the voice.
"Tomorrow perhaps. I think he can be moved then, his wounds heal quickly."
"We'll come at eight. Are you sure?" Said the voice, it sounded Indian as well. Was Sanjana not alone?
"Yes, now be quiet, or you will wake him."The door was closed. He lay listening to Sanjana for a while as she shuffled about in the room. Then his thoughts wandered away from the room, out to the courtyard. There were three rooms leading out towards the unguarded back wall, which he would have to scale in the early dawn, to be able to reach the front gates. That he could do with relative ease. The problem was getting out of the door unnoticed. Sanjana had obviously decided to park herself in his room for the night.

Without noticing it himself, Harry drowsed off somewhere after midnight, partly due to the lack of activity. As he woke he was first gripped by a fear that it was already too late. Feeling the blood rush back to his sleepy head, he became wide awake. He rose from the bed as silent as a snake and looked over towards the other side. In the dim light of early morning Sanjana's hair looked almost grey as she slept on her pillow. The candle had gone out. Tiptoeing across the wooden floor he retrieved one of her scarves, then thought again and took two. For a moment he lingered just above her, like some waiting Dracula, before quickly grabbing her and tying her down. She did not have the time to utter a sound before being gagged.

"There, there, love. Now try not to move… If you fall down, the floor's pretty hard…" He gave up a grin. As far as he could see, it was not returned. It did not bother him. Instead he quickly pulled out the boots and backpack from underneath his bed. He had not cared to undress after his little midday walk, so he only needed to put on the boots and he would be ready. It was done quickly. Finally he checked the pouch with the resin. It was there. Pleased to be on the safe side, he tied the pouch back to his belt. Then, silently, he approached the window. A shadow falling over the walkway outside told him there was one guard. He snuck over to the door. As he opened it with the greatest care, a big back, like that of a boxer, appeared in front of him. Harry grabbed him, putting one hand over his mouth while kicking him behind his knee. It made the big man topple over. Harry dragged him back into the room and snapped his neck. Compared to the Shambhalan blue beasts, even big humans were nothing! Leaving the dead man in the room, Harry closed the door and walked away with soft steps towards the doors that lead to the back wall. For a second he felt like someone was watching him, but as he looked over the deserted courtyard, there were only shadows and a lone lantern, squeaking on its hinges as it dangled in the faint wind. Yet, the courtyard made him uneasy, and he hurried silently into one of the rooms.

It was lit up by a single candle. Harry scurried into a dark corner, afraid that the inhabitant of the room might wake. But the person in the bed did not move. Reassured he went around the bed, but stopped as the flickering light revealed the face of Fisher, that persistent journalist he had blown half way to heaven. He was surprised that she was still alive! Obviously her health was not that good, and she had had no help from the blue sap. Lying in the bed, she was pale and bruised, as far as Harry could see. Why hadn't the monks done anything about that? He looked annoyed at the window, then back at Fisher. Weren't they supposed to be the enlightened ones? His hand lowered it self to the pouch of sap. He carefully untied it, picked two not too big pieces of sap and put them into a glass of water that stood by the bed. It was unclear even to him why he did so, but then he had a vague recollection that Fisher had been the only one that had actually tried to help him. He did not regret trying to blast Drake to the moon, but he had nothing personal against Fisher… So he reasoned as he took the glass from the bedside table. Then he blew out the light and carefully touched Fisher by the shoulder. He could see her eyes opening; they glimmered in the faint light of early dawn. He hushed her as she tried to speak.

"Don't talk…" He said in a low voice. "Drink..!" He urged her. She took a small sip of the blue water, then another. Harry was almost taken aback with the recovery rate. Soon Fisher had drained the whole glass. "All right, sweetheart, now sleep… Tomorrow you'll be so much better…" As she turned over, he could see the scars passing from her face. Within seconds she was asleep again. He turned to the window, opening it enough so he could lower himself out from the windowsill.

After a few minutes he had carefully climbed around the outer wall of the monastery. The wind was colder here, but also refreshing. In the east a faint lightening of the night-black sky could be seen. The stars were slowly fading. As he edged around a corner, a shadow leapt over the rooftop, almost making him lose grip of the stone he was clinging to. He froze in the uncomfortable position, but there came no noise from above. Deciding there was no time to waste he leapt daringly over the dark abyss to the wall on the opposite side. It was then that he heard a silent growl behind his back, one that he knew all too well! He jumped up to the roof, pulling himself up onto it. As he looked over to the other side he saw, in the faint light, the silhouette of one of the beast-men.

Disguised as a yeti, but still… Cursing he crawled to his feet and ran away, towards the gates of the monastery. A heavy thumping behind his back told him he was pursued. For a time he simply ran, then another hairy beast emerged, holding a crossbow. Something hard and pointy pierced his chest, making him fall and roll down the roof. As he went over the edge of it, he realized that it had been one of those cursed crossbow bolts that had struck him. For a moment he was sure the cold waters of the Himalayan river would swallow him, but instead he landed on hard ground. Somehow, he had managed to run across the rooftops all the way to the entrance of the monastery! Baffled, he realized that he had no recollection of ever crossing the river. Yet, he was there. With a groan he got up on his knees, grabbing the bolt attached to his chest. But before he had the time to pull it out, he felt cold metal against his neck.

"Stop!" Said Sanjana. "You won't get away!"
"What… you again…?" Harry asked confused, while trying to pull the bolt out. It wasn't helping that it hurt like hell. "Shit!" He said to himself.
"You thought you were safe as you left India? Tell me where the Sankara stones are!"
"The Sankara stones…? I stole them over a year ago!"
"And now you will return them to India!" Harry winced at the comment. An Indian agent… in the Himalayas… searching for something he had sold a long time ago. He slowly rose and turned around, slightly amused by the look on Sanjana's face as she saw the bolt in his chest. He pulled it out.
"It took you a year to find me?" He asked.
"I… yes, I found you, and nursed you back to health so that you may face your charges!" Harry flinched slightly at a shadow that had appeared above Sanjana. She, on the other hand, seemed to be looking at his wound instead. It felt as if it had already closed up somewhat.
"Look behind yourself." He said.
"Oh please…" She said, but then heard the growl. She froze, and then turned. That was the signal for Harry that it was time to leave. He turned and ran. The thumping behind his back returned.