The whale-size Air China aircraft, sliced in half by a chicory-blue stripe, broke through the fog above Lhasa airport in the afternoon.
Ennio Marino, who was looking forward to landing, snapped the lid of his spectacle case open and placed his reading glasses inside. The golden stripe adorning the case was broken at only one place, exactly where a symbol showing a truncated pyramid was printed onto it. He mused over the sign and broke into a smile.
‘Sir, would you mind fastening your seat belt?’ a stewardess in crimson uniform asked him. She was obviously fascinated by the case. ‘We landing soon, you know. Captain already announced. You have very beautiful case, sir. I hope you’ve found the flight pleasant.’
Ennio nodded, noticing the woman’s beautiful almond eyes, and asked, ‘Would you like to have one?’
The red cap the stewardess was wearing on her crown of hair shook as she started at the unexpected offer.
‘Ah sir, I only, I only want say it really special,’ she faltered as her eyes kept returning to a specific point on the case.
‘Do you know what it means?’ Ennio asked as he fastened his seat belt and straightened his shoulders.
The stewardess turned scarlet.
‘What you thinking of, sir?’ she asked and spread out her pretty little fingers.
‘The truncated pyramid.’
He tapped the sign with his finger.
‘If you think that, I do,’ she replied. Her face grew serious.
‘So then, would you like a case like this? I have another one, I could give this to you.’
The stewardess adjusted her knot of black hair, fidgeted with her hairpins and said coolly, ‘We cannot accept presents of passengers, sir. Though very kind. I must to proceed now if you not mind.’
Ennio instantly opened his suitcase and took out another spectacle case with the same golden stripe. He usually kept his sunglasses in it, but it was now empty. I must have left them in the car, he thought. He put in his business card and folded a thousand dollars into it. As he was leaving the plane, he handed the case to the stewardess, who automatically reached out to take it. Ennio glanced at her name badge, then at her, and broke into a wide smile.
‘Well, dear Jiang Li. Please keep this case and don’t forget that your brilliant smile made this flight even more wonderful.’
‘Oh, thank you. I not know what say. I cannot accept this. I not mean this,’ she stammered in her Chinglish while the skin on her face turned flaming crimson, She was about to hand the case back, but the archbishop walked on.
‘All the best, Jiang Li.’ He turned back, grinning, then jogged along the bridge and disappeared inside the terminal.
At the same time, Ma-gios and his father, Kunga, were on their way to Lhasa. After his wife’s death, Kunga had become hopelessly reserved. He only spoke to his neighbours when absolutely necessary. His heart was broken. He found pleasure only in his son. Trying to be his mother as well as his father, he pampered him terribly. But one thing troubled him: Ma-gios had changed since he had found him unconscious beside the dead leopard on the rock, lying with a mouth blackened with dry blood. The villagers whispered weird things about him, things like, ‘He was possessed by the devil.’
Kunga had laughed at this drivel first, until, one morning, he was woken by gruesome shrieks. He only had his underpants on, so he grabbed his fur coat to cover himself and ran into the yard. He still had a vivid memory of that dawn. The chicken scraping the ground slipped away before him like mist. In the waking sun’s rays, he saw the silhouette of one of his neighbours kneeling on the ground, sobbing over the lifeless body of her son, while her husband ran round and round with a hatchet in his hand. He was not crying: he was roaring. Whether from pain or anger, Kunga did not dare to guess.
‘If he comes out, I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him! I’ll tear him up!’
‘No!’ the woman shrieked. ‘Isn’t it enough that Rabten has died? You’re not going to kill anybody!’
Caressing her son’s lifeless face, she went on sobbing. She lifted her son’s cold hands, which were stretched towards the earth, petrified in spasm.
‘My dear son! Dear son! Rabten! Have you died? That goddam idiot’s killed you.’ Her sob became a hiss.
‘Yes, goddam idiot!’ her husband echoed, ‘He must be killed, otherwise he’s going to kill us all! He’s going to kill everybody.’
‘What are you talking about? What’s happened?’ Kunga cut in, as his presence had not been noticed thus far. His sudden appearance further inflamed the couple’s blazing rage.
‘His father’s here! His father’s here!’ somebody shouted from the half-light.
‘My son’s dead. Look, Kunga!’ sobbed the woman.
‘Ma-gios has killed Rabten! He’s killed my son!’ bellowed the man, his voice overpowering that of his wife.
Kunga thought he was still dreaming. He stared at the couple in confusion, then quietly asked,
‘Where’s Ma-gios?’
‘Ma-gios? Ma-gios?’ Rabten’s father was choking. ‘Ma-gios is in the house, but I’m warning you not to bring him outside, otherwise I’ll kill him.’
‘Tashi, don’t!’ his wife begged him, whining. ‘Vengeance only makes everything worse.’
‘Then I’m going inside to fetch him,’ Kunga turned towards the woman. ‘Please don’t hurt him.’
Snivelling, she nodded, but her lips were quivering and a desperate fire was ablaze in her eyes. Kunga entered the yellow-striped red door. His fingers froze on the latch as he realized in astonishment that he was afraid. He detested this feeling. It visited him very rarely, but now he was overcome by all his ancient phobias. Approaching the room where he suspected his son to be, he recalled his grandmother’s tales about demons who materialized and snatched human souls so quickly that their victims had no time to even open their mouths. The floor squeaked underneath him, but he walked on, undeterred. He saw streaks of blood, which must have been made by Rabten dragging himself out of the room. Kunga’s heart was thumping in his throat.
‘Whatever’s happened, he’s my son. I love you, my dear son. What’s happening?’ he whispered, tears trickling down his face. ‘Am I losing everybody?’
He grabbed the doorknob and listened. The silence was nerve-wracking. Outside another woman was wailing. With a sweating palm he grabbed the solid copper candleholder from the shelf in the hall. For a second, he was ashamed of himself. Am I meeting my son with this? Yet he took hold of it firmly and lifted it, ready for a blow. He drew a deep breath. As his hunter’s instincts kicked in, he stamped his foot, slammed the door open and stood aside. Nobody and nothing ran out. Keeping the candleholder in front of him threateningly, he examined the room. The chairs and the table were overturned. Black patches of congealed blood marked the yak skin spread out on the floor. There were also patches of blood on the bed. The floor lamp was broken in two and lay among goji berries from a broken platter. Drops of blood on the lampshade. The window broken. He backed to the wall to avoid being surprised by the terror from the corridor. He could not imagine how a little boy was able to kill a teenager and break the wooden window frame. But if not him, who had done this? Drops of sweat formed on his forehead. He leaned against a wall rug but, even so, he felt defenceless. By now he had seen all but what was concealed by the overturned table. If it’s a panther, it’ll jump to my neck. He brought his left arm up in front, lifted the candlestick high, then, as softly as he could, called out,
‘Ma-gios? Where are you, my dear son?’
There was no answer. It may have killed Ma-gios too. And it wants me now. But I won’t give in. A faint noise from below the little table covered with embroidery made him go white as a sheet. So it is still here. Still here. If it jumps at me, I’ll hit it, he encouraged himself.
‘If you jump at me, I’ll hit you!’ he shouted into the void.
‘Daddy, don’t hurt me!’ whimpered a thin voice from below the table. ‘Daddy, is it you?’
Kanga let the hand holding the candlestick drop.
‘It’s me.’
Tears were gushing from Ma-gios’s eyes. He wailed and crept from under the small table.
‘Come here, my dear! Come!’
Kunga took the trembling body into his lap.
‘Why is there blood on your mouth again?’
‘Please don’t hurt me, Daddy!’ the boy shouted, already sobbing.
Kunga realized he was still holding the candlestick and tossed it on the floor in disgust.
‘Of course I won’t. I love you. What’s happened to you? And what happened to Rabten?’
He drew his son to him, examined his body but he could find no injuries on him.
‘Why is there blood around your mouth, dear?’ he asked again and the thought of Rabten lying outside made his stomach turn – his neck and face had been covered in bite-marks.
‘Daddy, I don’t remember anything.’
‘Yet something’s wrong?’ insisted Kunga and took his son’s face between his palms.
Ma-gios freed himself from his hands and enfolded him tightly.
‘I don’t remember how I got here.’
‘It’s all right, son, there won’t be any problem. I, I’ll defend you whatever happens.’
‘I only remember going to bed at home, with Granny,’ said the boy wiping his tears.
‘And?’
‘And then I woke up here.’
‘Think about it, Ma-gios. Wasn’t there anything in between?’
‘No,’ he answered with a hangdog look.
‘Well, we won’t get far with this, son. Rabten’s parents are waiting outside, raging. They demand an explanation. They must’ve gathered half the village by now.’
He pressed his chin to Ma-gios’s little head and his brow darkened.
‘Whatever happens, I’ll defend you, son. But uncle Tashi has totally lost his mind. Of course, I understand.’
‘Daddy, do they want to kill me too?’
‘No, son. But if someone tries to, he’ll have to kill me first.’
Ma-gios buried his bloody nose into his father’s neck.
‘Daddy, I’m very scared. I love you.’
‘Then love me very much and hang on to me very tight. Don’t let me loose.’
Kunga lifted the light body and made for the exit. The murmur got louder and, as soon as he stepped outside with Ma-gios in his arms, a woman screamed,
‘That fiend!’
‘That devil! Death upon him!’ bawled a man’s deep voice. To Ma-gios’s heart it was like the strike of a hammer.
The little boy covered his eyes and pouted. The villagers formed a silent half-circle in front of the gate but, when Kunga stepped towards them, with Ma-gios in his arms, some took flight. Tashi was standing petrified at his wife’s side, and she was firmly clinging to her husband for fear he might make a violent move. He still had the hatchet in his hand.
Some were whispering. A little girl began to chuckle and was instantly rebuked by her mother. Kunga, firmly looking into Tashi’s eyes, had drawn near to him when the man’s lips began to quiver. Then the quivering spread to the hand holding the hatchet. His wife started sobbing again and took hold of the head of the hatchet. The quivering stopped. Kunga had got a stone’s throw away when Tashi gave out a yell and lifted the hatchet high. His wife was no longer able to hold him back. His face turned crimson. Kunga’s breath froze but he did not turn around. The crowd began to rumble but Tashi did not run after them. He collapsed on the ground and struck his index finger with the hatchet. Blood splashed and the man howled, but with rage rather than pain.
Ma-gios, who had watched the scene to the end and saw the truncated finger, turned his head away in revulsion and whispered into Kunga’s ear,
‘Uncle Tashi’s gone mad.’
‘No, son. Uncle Tashi wants to remember his son forever.’
Events accelerated afterwards. Chinese inspectors flooded the place, asking them a lot of questions. They took Ma-gios and Kunga to Lhasa, for their own safety, they said. Ma-gios was subjected to hypnosis as well but, apart from hearing a strange animal sound while he was on the toilet that night, he could recall nothing.
Late one afternoon, a grey-suited detective visited them at their temporary lodgings in a boarding house and announced they could return home.
‘As well as human tooth marks, the pathologists also identified the mark of an animal bite and, as it turned out, it was this single bite that caused the boy’s death. He bled to death from the femoral vein; the other bites were only surface injuries. The blood samples also showed that the attacker was a carnivore. Your son just got involved in it somehow, though we don’t understand how.
‘So it was an animal after all?’ Kunga asked in bewilderment, but also in relief. He could have rejoiced and danced and kissed the officer from head to toe.
‘Thank you, inspector, thank you! I knew my son couldn’t have done anything like this.’
‘It must have been a big feline, perhaps a snow leopard from the neighbourhood. We have analysed the blood samples from the ground. We’ve collected fur samples from the window frame and we’ve found marks of paws in the yard.’
The inspector lit up a cigarette but, after one drag, doubled up in a fit of coughing.
‘Sorry, sir.’ He turned to Kunga imploringly. ‘Have you got a handkerchief?’
‘Certainly. Ma-gios, give the inspector a mint leaf.’
The boy quickly took out a rolled-up nylon bag from his leather satchel and took a heavily scented leaf of paper out of it. The leaf was moist and soft to the touch and spread a heavy fragrance of mint.
‘Well, this will do best for you,’ Kunga told the inspector. ‘Breathe in deeply from this deeply and your cough will pass.’
The inspector took the little leaf sceptically but, when he sniffed it, his eyes lit up.
‘Thank you, thank you … sniff … This is really good … sniff … it’s clearing up … God bless you both. I really needed this.’
Kunga took heart.
‘Put out your cigarette, sir. It’ll kill you.’
The man threw it away instantly, as if on doctor’s orders. Kunga nodded with satisfaction and went on inquiring. ‘Sir, why do you think that terrible racket didn’t wake Rabten’s parents? They could’ve got there in time to save Rabten.’
The inspector poured the contents of the ashtray into the dustbin, coughed a little more and opened the window.
‘They woke up at once. Man, the whole thing only took a couple of minutes. By the time they got there, your son was already sitting in the room with his mouth bleeding and Rabten was dying in the corridor. What were they supposed to think? It’s sheer luck they didn’t strike him dead on the spot. I’d have done so myself.’
He looked at Ma-gios, who was on the brink of crying again.
‘That’s right, young man. We don’t bite the neighbours. It’s a rather nasty habit.’
‘But, inspector,’ Kunga interrupted, ‘don’t you think it’s very strange that such a large predator would kill the bigger boy but let the smaller one live?’
A smile flitted across the officer’s face as if appreciating such sharp intelligence.
‘Some colleagues say the strangest thing of all is that a big cat doesn’t lose nearly a litre of blood from some superficial scratches. Somebody must have injured it too, otherwise it would have butchered your son as well. Well, what do you say to that?’
‘You’ve won,’ replied Kunga humbly. ‘We can’t understand secrets. I’m only a shepherd.’
The inspector plopped himself down on the table and remarked, offhand, ‘We should find that damn leopard. It would clear everything up. But the beast buzzed off, for all the blood it’d lost. Anyway, let’s not be greedy. You two can return home tomorrow. I’ll let you know about the result of the investigation too. I’ve got to be leaving, homicide is expecting me to talk about another matter.
‘Another murder?’ asked Kunga.
‘Ah yes, unfortunately. A woman killed her husband.’ Before Kunga had time to react, he went on: ‘A love triangle, it seems. The husband was cheating on her.’
‘Sad.’ The shepherd lowered his head.
‘Yes.’
The inspector threw on his grass-green jacket and left. Father and son were left alone. Sparrows hammered on the windowsill, glasses rattled as a tram passed nearby.
‘Well, then, we’re going home, son. You understand? We’re going home. Enough of this. We’re free. Away from these accusations, this noise. You hear me?’
Ma-gios did not reply but, staring ahead, cracked his finger joints.
‘He took revenge for the other leopard,’ he whispered.
‘What’re you saying, dear? What is it?’
‘This leopard took revenge for its mate, the one I’d killed.’
‘You don’t say! Nonsense! Leopards aren’t human. They’re only interested in my tender young sheep and keeping as far away as possible from my gun.’
He kept a moment’s silence.
‘And anyway, even if it had been so, why didn’t you kill him like you killed the other one?’ he asked the boy with a happy face.
‘I don’t know.’
Ma-gios retreated into himself and no entreaty could get one word more from him.
On the following day, before their return home, a scrupulously elegant man wearing a signet ring with a truncated pyramid on it visited them. He made a strange offer.
Despite the findings of the investigation, the villagers were still holding Ma-gios responsible for Rabten’s death. Tashi avoided greeting Kunga when he saw him in the village, refusing to even look at him, but Kunga always expressed his goodwill towards him.
On an icy December day troubled by roaring winds, Kunga came across Tashi shivering. He waved to him and, to his surprise, the man returned his greeting. He slowly walked up to Tashi, whose rage seemed to have abated.
‘My wife is expecting a baby,’ he said gently. He stepped up to Kunga and hugged him tightly. Both men were in tears.
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