The Iron Tiger
“Below, the valleys lay dark and quiet, the only sound the tiny, insignificant drone of the Beaver's engine as it followed the maze through to Tibet Jack Drummond was tired and a slight dull ache behind his right eye nagged constantly. Too many late nights, too much whisky and he was getting old. Too old to be dicing in the worst flying area in the world at sixteen thousand in a non-pressurised cabin. He turned to Cheung and grinned..There's coffee in a black flask under your seat. I could do ...with some.' His companion was Chinese, but it was obvious that he had European blood. The eyes were startlingly blue In the bronzed, healthy face and his mouth lifted slightly in a quirk of ironic good humour. He wore a heavy sheepskin coat and aa astrakhan cap and shivered as he opened the vacuum flask and poured coffee into a plastic cup. 'Is it always as cold as this?' 'Drcmmond nodded. "The wind comes all the way fiom Mongolia. There have been times when it's stripped pieces off the fuselage.' Cheung peered down into the jagged valley below.MoreLess
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