She pointed toward the towering rocks. “It’s nice now, but once we get through there it’s going to be hell.”
“What d’ya mean?” Pope glared at her.
“See the wind trail? It means the gusts whip up the other side. Once we pass through, it’s going to get tough.”
Pope grunted, and Holly noticed a slight smirk on Regi’s face. So far the two of them had had almost zero communication. If they were colleagues, as they claimed to be, then they must hate working together. By the pained looks on their faces, she had a feeling they’d done minimal preparation for this climb, if any. At the moment, the angle of the slope wasn’t too difficult. Certainly not as bad as Holly’s practice mountain had been. She was pretty sure that was about to change, though.
Holly found it hard to believe people climbed mountains without any serious training, and that governments allowed it to happen. She wouldn’t be here without her training, that’s for sure.
Chancy announced they were moving again. “Keep your distance, guys. Don’t bunch.”
Holly waited until there was almost no slack on the rope between her and Chancy before she started walking again. The next two hours were a repeat of the first, and it was nearing one o’clock when they reached the threshold. When Chancy stopped again, Holly took the opportunity to pluck a power bar from her pack and eat it. The glares from both Regi and Pope indicated neither of them had packed their own food. Fools.
“If you have balaclavas, now’d be the time to put ’em on. It’s going to be super windy beyond here.” As if demonstrating, Chancy tugged his blue face mask over his nose and mouth.
Holly removed hers from her pack and Oliver did the same. Neither Regi nor Pope seemed to have them.
Once they were ready they set off again, and Holly’s fears were quick to be realized.
The second they stepped through the gateway, the wind speed increased tenfold. It whipped up the mountain, carrying snow and ice with it, and the wind chill factor skyrocketed.
They were heading downhill now, putting additional pressure on her knees, but she clenched her teeth and trudged on regardless. Exposed rocks dotted the snowy landscape like blackheads, and she had to take extra precaution with each step.
An hour into the downhill climb the wind intensified, unleashing its fury like they’d walked into hell. It blasted her so hard she had to lean forward just to remain upright. But the downward angle of the slope made that even more difficult, and the strain on her calf muscles had them burning.
Every time she thought Chancy would stop, he continued. She checked her watch and noted that he’d gone well beyond the one-hour stops he’d been making on the other side of the mountain. The ice-laden wind created a whiteout that made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of her. Chancy was lost in the oblivion, but thankfully the rope snaking its way toward him gave her something to follow.
Nearly every muscle in her legs was aching when the rope between her and Chancy finally began to slacken. Twenty or so paces more and she spied Chancy through the haze, and when she looked up she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
The plane wreck appeared out of nowhere. One side of the plane was completely obliterated by accumulated snow. But as the wind curled around the metal fuselage it lifted any snow that attempted to settle and carved it away. The result was that the side of the plane positioned toward the mountain peak was still visible.
She turned to see Oliver’s reaction, and she was glad she did.
His eyes bulged, and the balaclava concealing the rest of his face made his expression even more dramatic. “Holy shit. Will you look at that?” He wrapped his arms around Holly and squeezed her in a bear hug.
Regi looked beyond exhausted when he arrived and barely showed any reaction.
When Pope appeared, Holly had to resist gasping at the sight of him. The flesh on his face looked red and raw. Clearly he hadn’t worn sunscreen, and wind burn contributed to the rest of his suffering. When he lifted his dark eyes, it was anger she saw simmering in them. “Thank fucking Christ.”
“Hey, watch your language, buddy.” Chancy pointed a finger at Pope.
“Fuck you.” Pope’s eyes were evil daggers, and for several heartbeats the two men glared at each other.
Holly was relieved when Chancy unclenched his jaw and began untying the rope from his harness. She followed his lead and unhooked the rope from her belt too. Chancy plucked the shovel from the sled, stomped through the snow, ducked beneath the plane’s wing, and bent over to scoop the remaining snow away from the bottom of the door. Oliver left her side to help Chancy.
She could feel the evil glare from Pope, and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, she was horrified at how red his face had become. Come tonight, he’d be in agony.
A tormented screech announced the plane door opening. Chancy peeled his face mask away. “Okay, put your belts and crampons on the sled, then get your asses inside.”
Holly unclipped the crampons from her boots and tossed them onto the sled. She did the same with her equipment belt, and the hooks and ice axes jangled as she placed them atop everyone else’s gear.
Oliver held his hand toward Holly and she tugged off her balaclava, stepped forward, and ducked her head as she entered the plane. Five seats were inside: three on the left-hand side and two on the right, with a central aisle. There was a small empty space behind the last two chairs. She chose the seat at the front, sat with her pack on her lap, turned toward the front, and gasped.
The pilot was still in the cockpit.
His head was slumped forward onto the controls, and she didn’t need to look hard to see the damage to his skull. From where she sat, it looked like the steering column was embedded in his head. A couple of the glass instruments were shattered and looked to still have blood dripping down them.
She snapped her eyes away, and when her mind jumped to her earlier premonition, she hoped for everyone’s sake that this was the death that’d instigated her omen.
Regi climbed into the seat behind her, and when Pope came in he glanced toward the cockpit then went to the back. If he’d seen the pilot, he made no reaction. He scanned the space at the back, and the stony look on his face had her wondering if he was looking for the money. Pope tossed his pack in the back, and the cabin groaned when he plonked his weight onto the back seat.
Oliver chose the seat opposite Holly and reached out to touch her knee.
“Oh shit, is that the pilot?” Regi said.
“Was the pilot,” she corrected.
“Jesus, why’s he still here?”
Chancy climbed in and tugged the door shut. “It’s not always possible to get bodies off mountains,” he said. “Not everyone’s as lucky as your guy. Retrieval costs money. A lot of money. And risk.”
“That’s so sad,” Holly said.
“Yep. I’ve been working on mountains for twenty years, and this is only the third body retrieval I’ve done. There’s bodies dotted all over the place.” He remained standing but, unlike Holly, he had to hunch over.
“Thought you said the weather was good.” Pope seemed to growl with his comment.
“Oh this is good. You should see it on a bad day. It’ll be much better in the morning.”
Pope’s clenched teeth squared his jaw, making him look even more evil. “Where’s the bodies?” Pope snapped.
Holly cocked her head. Pope had obviously forgotten their scam about needing photos for an insurance caper.
“They’re in the crevasse.” Chancy thumbed over his shoulder, indicating down the mountain.
“How far?” Pope hissed.
“’Bout a couple a hundred feet or so. But it’s too late now. That’s why this’s our campsite for tonight.” Chancy rubbed his hands together.
Pope stood with his head butting the roof. “What the fuck?”
Chancy’s
eyes shot to Pope. “I told you to—”
“Yeah, well, you’re no longer in charge, asshole.”
Holly gasped at the gun in Pope’s hand.
Chapter 24
The sight of the gun shot panic through Regi’s gut like a bullet, and the urge to bolt out of there was huge. But Pope had them trapped. Although Regi had never witnessed it firsthand, in the deepest depths of his soul he knew Pope was not only capable of murder, but that he’d done it before. Probably many times. The Pope he knew was a thug, all muscle, no brains, and did exactly what he was told without any second thoughts. The Pope he was looking at now was no longer taking orders.
He was in charge.
And that scared the crap out of Regi.
Many times in the past four years, Regi had wanted to die. Begged to die. Not now, though. Not when he was this close to his billions—this close to getting his life back. No…not his old life. Regi was ready to make a whole new life for himself. A life so flush with cash that he could tell assholes like Pope and Carson to fuck right off. And if they didn’t, he’d make them.
Regi edged back and slinked behind the seat with his hands up. “Jesus, Pope, what the fuck’re you doing?”
“Shut up.” Pope smashed the gun into Regi’s temple and he howled. Searing pain shot behind his eyes.
The metal floor crunched beneath Pope’s boots as he strode between the seats toward the front. “You, get to the back.” Regi forced the pain from his eyes, desperate to follow Pope’s movements.
Pope’s jaw was clenched, his red raw face hideous, and his eyes bulged so wide it looked as if his eyelids had been burned away. Pope had slipped over the edge of sanity.
“Okay, calm down, nobody needs to get hurt,” Oliver pleaded as he stood.
“Shut the fuck up.” Pope shoved Oliver toward the back, and when he stumbled and fell Holly squealed.
Pope thrust the gun in her face, choking the scream from her throat, and when Regi saw the glint in Pope’s eyes, he froze. Holly was about to die. Regi’s breath trapped. His heart thumped. The seconds ticked as he watched Pope fight his own demons.
Holly held her hands up and lowered her eyes.
Out of the corner of his eye, Regi saw Oliver scramble to the opposite chair and clutch the back of the seat in front until his knuckles bulged white. “Pope! No!”
Pope ignored Oliver and turned to Chancy. “Get to the back.”
Chancy offered his palms to Pope and edged sideways down the aisle.
Maybe Holly’s downcast eyes were saving her. Or maybe Pope wasn’t completely psychotic. He needed Holly, and Oliver and Chancy, to find Milton. Without Milton, there was no billions.
Pope tapped the gun on Holly’s shoulder. “You too.”
She jumped up, and the sound of her boots tracked her dash for the tiny slot behind Oliver’s seat. Oliver reached around behind her in a lame attempt at protection.
Pope jerked his gun from one person to the next like a raving madman. “Right.” The gun tapped the roof of the cabin, emitting a hollow metallic sound, and Regi thought if he wasn’t careful he’d pull the fucking trigger. “Toss your packs up here.”
Oliver carried his and Holly’s bags to the front, and when he returned Regi tossed his pack on top of the others. He glanced at Pope, who for a moment seemed unsure of himself. “Pope…” Regi decided to play the only card he could think of. “Is this what Carson wanted?”
Pope snapped his eyes up and grunted. “You think you’re so fucking smart, Regi?” Spittle landed on Pope’s chin as he spat out Regi’s name.
“What’re you talking about?” Regi touched the lump at his temple and winced. “I didn’t make you come here. Carson did.”
“You’re such a fucking fool. You think you’re so immune to it, don’t you? Stupid naïve shit.” Pope aimed the gun at Regi’s forehead. The black hole was like the eye of a demon.
But rather than be scared, Regi was pissed off. He’d had enough of being bullied. He clenched his fists and glared around the weapon into Pope’s bloodshot eyes. “Go on. Kill me. Get it over with.” Pope clenched his teeth so hard his body trembled. The gun quivered too. Yet despite his obvious fury, Regi was confident he wouldn’t do it. There’d been dozens of times when Pope could’ve killed him, but hadn’t. He prayed this was another. Not when he was this close to his money.
“You still haven’t figured it out, have you?” Pope edged back.
“Figured what out?” Maybe Pope wanted to see Regi’s reaction to whatever he was about to say, because he lowered the gun. If he pulled the trigger now it’d go right through Regi’s chest.
“Why Carson’s been keeping you alive.”
Regi’d been asking himself the same question for years. “Tell me, ’cause I’ve got no fucking idea.”
“He’s grooming you. You’re taking over.”
He cocked his head. “You’ve lost your mind, Pope.”
“I was like you once. Young. Stupid. Up to my eyeballs in debt. When Carson gets his claws in, he ain’t lettin’ go.” Pope held his free hand out as if using it for balance. A millisecond later, his fingers trembled. “Parkinson’s,” Pope said. “Carson’s ready to get rid of me. Hell, he’s probably hoping I stay up on this mountain like him.” Pope pointed the gun at the pilot.
The frigid air seemed to crackle with silence. But there was something more. Anticipation. Pope was waiting for his response. Regi rolled the cogs in his brain and a question clicked into place. He glared up at the madman. “So why’d you come then, dickhead?”
Pope lashed out and smashed the gun into Regi’s forehead. Regi howled and forced the tears from his eyes. “Fuck. Fuck!” He sucked air through his teeth and clenched his fists, determined not to give Pope the satisfaction of seeing his agony.
“I had no choice,” Pope spoke through clenched teeth. “Just like you. You think this money’s settin’ you free? You’re a fucking idiot.”
“What money? Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Chancy’s gruff voice seemed to surprise Pope, because he looked at him like he’d forgotten he was there.
“Yeah, Regi, why don’t you tell ’em?”
Regi dragged his eyes from Pope and turned to Oliver, then Holly. Fear riddled her wide eyes, and her face was so pale her lips had turned blue. Regi wondered if that’s what he looked like every time Pope had him cornered.
“They’re after the ransom money,” Oliver said, maybe trying to distract Regi’s attention from Holly.
Regi shot him a glance. “What?”
“The ransom money Angel and Fred took.”
Shaking his head, Regi glared at Oliver. “What’re you talking about?”
Both Holly and Oliver blinked at him.
“What money are you talking about?” Holly said.
“My father’s…Milton Ashcroft’s money.”
Her jaw dropped, and when she looked at him like he’d lost his mind he got angry. He was not the crazy one. Hell, he was probably the only sane person on this fucking mountain. It was time to prove it. Regi decided to tell her every sleazy detail about the “sperm donor.” Everything from Milton’s twenty-three-year affair with his mother to Carson’s admission that Milton fucked any woman he could get his hands on.
“You’re lying.” Tears spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks.
“I wouldn’t be here if I was.”
“Why are you here?” Oliver frowned.
“I need proof.” Regi went on to tell them about how Milton and his mother had kept their affair so secret there wasn’t even one photo. When he mentioned the five grand in cash his mom got every month, in person, Holly released a sob. But when he saw her sadness and how she seemed to have shrunk in size, it wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as he’d thought it would be.
“So,” he said, “Milton’s DNA is the only thing between me and twel
ve billion bucks.”
“Twelve billion,” Pope and Chancy said at exactly the same time.
Regi turned to Pope, his jaw dropping. “You mean Carson didn’t tell you?”
Pope lunged with the gun again, but this time Regi was ready. A second before impact he launched from his seat, deflected the gun with one hand, and punched Pope in the nose with his other.
At the same time blood burst from Pope’s nose, the gun exploded.
Chapter 25
The explosion was so loud and so unexpected it took Oliver a couple of seconds to react. Holly was quicker; she fell to Chancy’s side and didn’t hesitate to place her gloved hand over the gaping wound in his neck.
Oliver joined her, his heart thumping, his eyes darting to Pope, then Regi, then and back to the bloody wound. “Jesus, you shot him!”
While Regi’s expression proved his horror, Pope’s fury had hit a whole new level. With blood spilling from his nose, down his chin, and onto his jacket, he raised the gun again and pressed the barrel to Regi’s temple.
Pope had his teeth clamped so tight his jaw trembled. As did his hand. Rage smoldered in his eyes.
Oliver’s breath trapped; he wanted to drag his eyes away, but couldn’t.
But Pope didn’t pull the trigger; he beat Regi with the gun instead.
Oliver snapped his eyes away, and as he tried to block out the agonized grunts and horrid thuds he turned his attention to Chancy. The guide’s lips were coated in his blood, and a bubble formed and burst from the wound in his neck.
“What do we do?” Holly’s wide eyes were pleading, desperate for Oliver to have answers. But he didn’t. Even if he did, one glance at Chancy was enough to know they would’ve been futile. Chancy sucked in a ragged breath, and when he let it out, long and slow, it was his last gasp at life leaving his body.
His head rolled to the side. His eyes stared at nothing.
Oliver removed his glove and put two fingers beneath Chancy’s chin. He’d never done this before, and he shifted his fingers several times before he confirmed there was no pulse. He shook his head and Holly broke into sobs. Oliver wanted to wrap his arms around her, protect her from their new hell, and tell her it’d be okay. But he couldn’t. Everything was so far from okay that his mind shattered into a dozen scenarios. None of them good.
Out of Mind Page 22