- Home
- Stephen R P Bailey
The Fourth Cart
The Fourth Cart Read online
THE
FOURTH CART
STEPHEN R P BAILEY
The Fourth Cart
Copyright © 2012 Stephen R P Bailey
All rights reserved.
All characters in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Novels by the same author:
The Fourth Cart
The Fourth Cart 2
The Fourth Cart 3
Table of Contents
Forward
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Thirty Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty One
Chapter Forty Two
Chapter Forty Three
Chapter Forty Four
Chapter Forty Five
Chapter Forty Six
Epilogue
Forward
Amidst the chaos of the Tibetan Uprising in March 1959, monks loyal to their God-King fought to keep treasured artefacts from the clutches of invading Chinese soldiers. Four horse-drawn carts full of gold and precious jewels left Lhasa in the wake of the fleeing Dalai Lama. Three carts were captured by pursuing soldiers. The fourth cart escaped, but appeared to vanish off the face of the earth.
In the early 1970s, the tale of the Fourth Cart was much circulated amongst the farang hanging around the bars of Patpong, Bangkok's red light district. One bar-fly even claimed to be the sole surviving witness to the fate of the legendary cart and would show listeners an enormous ruby which he insisted was part of the treasures still lying buried in Tibet.
For Nick Price, a brash young English lad on the lam, the allure of buried treasure was too strong to resist. With a wife and two kids to feed, as well as his inflated ego, he saw the Fourth Cart treasures as his financial salvation. So he came up with a plan to retrieve the treasures and cajoled his mates to join his mission. Unfortunately, it was a hasty, ill-conceived plan with devastatingly tragic consequences that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Consequently, it came as no surprise to Nick when, twenty years later, it appeared someone from his past was out for revenge.
Chapter One
Midnight, Saturday 27th April 1991
Nick Price tried to convince himself that the creaking noises were normal, nothing more than the old manor house settling down for the night. He knew it was caused by the dissipation of heat stored up during the day in the building’s fabric. As the night brought coolness, eerie sounds would be given off by expanded wooden floors and central heating pipes contracting back to normal. There was nothing else to it he tried to convince himself, no matter how spooky it sounded. It would happen every night. Yet tonight he could swear there was something more.
He stood looking down from the first floor galleried landing at the great inner hall below. Pale moonlight filtered through from the glass panelled roof above, casting ghostly silhouettes as it fell. He drew in a deep breath, placed a firm hand on the gallery rail and eased forward a few quiet steps, his stomach knotted.
He removed a solitary key from his trouser pocket. It was large and heavy, so typically characteristic of Victorian mansion doors. And tonight it was cold to the touch. Unnaturally cold, he thought. He felt for the keyhole, set within an ornate brass doorplate, realizing his hand shook as he inserted the key.
The door opened without noise or resistance. Three seconds later he was inside. Leaning back against the safety of the closed door, he could hear his heart pounding. He wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead and waited for the darkened objects in the room to come into sharper focus.
He knew precisely where he wanted to go. He ignored the light switches, wary of attracting unwanted attention from anyone who may be asleep in adjacent rooms. Under the bed, he knew, lay a tatty old leather suitcase. And between where he stood and the bed was a clear path, free of any furnishings. Six strides later, he knelt, groped under the bed’s valance, pulled out the suitcase and placed it on top of the empty bed.
The clasps flicked open at the lightest of touches, the opened suitcase revealing a jumbled collection of clothes, hairbrushes, make-up and photographs. He rummaged at the bottom until his hands found the object of his desire, a small leather pouch.
Moving towards the window, he opened the pouch, withdrew a magnificent ruby the size of a small plum, and held it at eye level in the moonlight. He stared at it for what seemed an eternity, lost to its hypnotic powers.
Images of Buddhist artefacts, of gold and jewels sparkling in a lamp lit cave, came flooding through from a dark, tormented part of his memory. The venture into Tibet was supposed to have been The Big One, the thing that would make him the happiest man in the world. How could he have been so deluded? How could he have let his lust for money blind him so? How could he have let it take Maliwan’s soul?
As a cloud of despair rose from within, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. The atmosphere in the room changed. Someone was closing in on him from behind; a hunter nearing its prey. And then he felt a presence. Stronger and closer. Much closer. His head turned and, out of the corner of his eye, a body materialized out of the shadows. It was Maliwan, back from the dead, gliding across the room towards him, her unworldly body floating above the floor. He watched in disbelief as her hand reached out, pointing in his direction. Accusing him. His mouth dropped open as a primal scream rose from deep within his chest.
And then a lamplight came on. Less than two feet away was the face he had fallen in love with on a beach many years ago. Its mouth opened as if to curse him.
‘Daddy, what on earth are you doing in here?’ The voice was blunt. ‘It’s past midnight. Why are you creeping around like a burglar?’
But Nick hadn’t heard. His legs buckled and he slumped to the floor, crying. ‘Jesus, Nit,’ he replied to his daughter. ‘You scared the living daylights out of me.’
Nittaya squatted down beside her sobbing father, hugging him as he sat cradling his head. She picked up the ruby that had fallen to the floor, turned her head towards the suitcase lying on the bed and said, ‘Daddy, this really isn’t healthy, going through Mum’s old things.’
Nick sobbed a few moments longer before responding, ‘I know, Nit, it’s just that today’s the anniversary. She’s been gone from me eighteen years now.’
Nittaya gave vent to a deep sigh. ‘Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry. I forgot.’ She nestled closer to her father. ‘But don’t you think she’d want you to move on?’
Nick wiped at the tears cascading down his cheeks. ‘How can I move on, Nit? I was never able to say goodbye to her.’
‘I’d have given anything to have been able to hold her and say sorry.’
Nittaya turned to face her father direct and said kindly, but firmly, ‘Daddy, you can’t keep blaming yourself for her death. It’s eating you up.’
‘I know that, but you don’t understand …’
‘What I do understand,’ Nittaya interrupted, ‘is how much you loved each other. And she’d be really proud at what you’ve achieved since your days in Bangkok. You’ve built up a really good business, you donate huge amounts to charity, and you’re loved by me every bit as much by Mum.’
Nick took a moment to compose himself before saying, ‘I really don’t know how I’d manage without you, Nit.’
Nittaya got to her feet and offered a hand to help her father up. ‘You probably couldn’t,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Which reminds me, we’ve got the launch on Monday. And it’s me who’s got to spend all tomorrow going over last minute plans for the party. So come on, bedtime. I need all the sleep I can get.’
The Fourth Cart