Chapter 24
MARY Joe completed the final part of the descent by sliding down the brocade rope. She landed with a thump on the roof of the basement wing of the palace. From this roof it was still a drop of some fifty feet to the top of the slope. The roof projected slightly over the wall and if she hung from the projection her body would hang down reducing the height of the fall by six feet. She found that it was possible to find a foothold on a window ledge that was right below the roof. She lowered herself from the roof on to the narrow window sill. By gripping the sill and hanging down she could repeat the process and get down to the next window placed exactly below the top window. But there were no windows below the third floor. It was a drop of more than twenty five feet to the ground and to make matters worse the inward sloping walls meant that she couldn't fall clear to the ground but would have to slide down the walls.
As she hung from the last window she put her feet on the walls and threw her body into a backward somersault to fall clear of the wall. She landed on top of some sage and juniper bushes, whose spiny twigs and needles hurt her but whose foliage cushioned her fall. When she got up she was bruised and bleeding but not seriously hurt. The bushes gave good cover but she had a feeling that someone was hot on her trail and she had to hurry if she was to escape.
The line of bushes went right down to the bottom of the slope and she made good time using their cover to race down the hill. She was at the perimeter wall within two minutes. Scrambling over the wall, she dropped down to the open ground on the other side. Before her was an open square of land, as big as a football field, brilliantly lit by the moon. On the far side of the square was a row of houses providing welcome bands of shadow, dark alleyways, rooftops standing cheek by jowl. All places for hiding from pursuers and presenting possibilities of escape. But before that she had to cross the open land and there was not a speck of shadow or cover on this exposed expanse. She could hear the whistles of the guards and the sound of their jackboots on the cobbles. She could in fact see the first few guards appear round the curve of the wall and pause for breath. She crouched low against the wall and let the guards run past her. Once they were well past she ran for the far side, going as fast as her legs would take her.
The guards saw her however, and hurriedly fired shots went whistling over. her head and she ran crouching. She could see headlights being switched on all over the streets around and army vehicles coming to life with a roar of their engines. She gained the far side and dived for the shelter of a darkened lane between two houses, just as a bullet smashed into the brick wall of a Tibetan house to her right, shedding bits of plaster. and splinters of masonry all around. She ran down the lane as fast as she could. At the end of the lane was a two storey traditional Tibetan house. She quickly scrambled on to the roof of the house, using the window ledges as a ladder. Most of the houses were here of two storeys and their roofs were level with each other. Any house taller than two storeys was considered an affront to the dignity of the Jokhang and the Potala, according to. an old custom, and this custom was still followed by Tibetans, though not by the Chinese.
These houses all had flat roofs enclosed by low parapets and Mary Joe found it easy to jump from one roof to another, monkey fashion, and move away from the Potala towards the Barkhor. However, soon she came to a spot where a wide street separated her from the next block of houses. The street was brightly lit up by the moon and a Chinese army truck stood on the far side, its engine running and the bright beams of its headlights stabbing the night. Right below her, huddled up against the wall and with his body in the shadows was the figure of monk. His face was resting on his knees. He was apparently asleep, but just then he turned his face to look upwards and the, moonlight fell full on his face. Mary Joe recognized him instantly. He was the same Lama whom she had met outside the Jokhang, while coming out of Yao's house and whose blessings she had sought so impulsively.
Mary Joe thought about her next move. She could possibly hide on the roof tops for the whole of the night, but when daylight came she would have to find some other shelter. Or she could seek refuge with some Tibetan family hut she knew that house-to-house searches would be starting right away and even if someone gave her shelter she was sure to found by the morning. And when this happened the family who harboured her would also pay the price along with her. By now the entire housing block where she happened to be was surrounded by troops and it would be hopeless to try and make a run for it. Still she would find some way of escape. Only she had to first ensure that the treaty that she had with her was committed to safe keeping. She couldn't afford to be picked up with the, treaty on her person. Without the treaty, even if she were caught by the Chinese, she could play for time and try and work out some plan of escape, with the treaty she was a dead duck.
She whistled softly to attract the attention of the monk. As he looked up she put her finger on her lips and motioned to him to stand up. "Father, father, do you recognize me?"
The old monk peered up at her, squinting slightly with an effort to see more clearly. "Yes my child, you are the first person who sought my blessings in forty years. How could I ever forget you. But what are you doing up there. And why are all these troops moving about.?"
"There is no time to tell you all that father. Just give this to Lama Lobsang at Drepchung, will you." She bent down over the parapet and tossed the rolled up parchment to the Lama who picked it up quickly and secreted it within his robes.
'Farewell father!"
"Farewell my child and may the blessings of the Lord Buddha go with you."
Mary Joe went back over the roof tops of Lhasa, to the point where she had first sought their shelter. The open ground in front of the Potala was crawling with troops. Several army vehicles were parked around the square. Guards, cradling their carbines, stood everywhere, and in the centre of the square was a group of officers who were apparently directing the whole operation. Escape clearly did not lie this way.
She went back over the rooftops to reconnoitre the western side of the housing block. It was now past midnight. It would have been a lovely, tranquil night but for the roar of army trucks and the harsh glare of their headlights. On the western side was a narrow street and an army truck stood at the head of this street, its engine running and its headlights switched on. The street was narrow and the truck stood in the middle, blocking it off completely. It was a big ten tonne army truck with a canvas hood at the back. The driver's cabin had its windows open so that from where she stood, Mary Joe could swing down into the cabin with a bit of effort. She felt that if she could swing into the open cabin and take the driver by surprise she had a good chance of commandeering the truck and making a run for it.
She debated with herself whether she should try to get into the open window of the truck head first, diver style or feet first. The driver was sitting on the far side, but the window on her side was also open. She decided to go in feet first. Even if the driver was armed he-would have no chance against her in the confined space of the cabin. Okay here we go, she thought, as she swung down from the parapets and into the cabin. She held. on to the projecting eaves with her hands and swung her body with her feet, pushing against the wall of the house.
The truck driver, a young soldier who was busy watching the street ahead was taken completely by surprise. Mary Joe crashed through the window, feet first. Her feet hit the gear shift, her body landed on the seat on the far side. Before the driver could recover from his surprise, and draw his personal weapon, a jab in the midriff took the wind out of his body and he collapsed against the wheel.
Opening the window on the driver's side, she gently heaved the body out, taking care to see that the soldier did not get badly hurt. I am becoming a Buddhist, she thought, worrying about a Chinese soldier's life. She wondered whether they would have the same compunctions were she to fall into their hands. She took the wheel of the truck and started to back out of the street, but just then the barrel of an automatic carbine nudged her in the back of her head and some one said in Chinese, "all right, put your hands up and keep them up."
She had forgotten the slotted window in the steel partition at the back of the driver's cabin. There were soldiers sitting in the back of the. truck. She hadn't seen them from the rooftop because of the canvas hood, although she should have expected soldiers in an army truck. It was the obvious thing. She cursed herself for her oversight, but it was too late to anything about it now. By now the truck was surrounded by soldiers, all pointing their carbines at her. Soon her arms were pinned down by three soldiers. Some one put steel handcuffs on her wrists. The truck then moved off. She had a sinking premonition about her destination. She knew that they were taking her to the Drapchi prison.
