“Aw, hell,” Scott said. “What will that mean?”
“You can’t continue on,” she said. “I mean, you could try, but you’re going to be in a lot of pain. Once we reach Base Camp you’ll certainly be in no condition to climb the mountain. I really think you should go back.”
“Go back? Where?”
“To Taplejung,” Marquis said. “You’ll have to wait for us there.”
“For a month?” Scott was angry and humiliated. “Aww, man . . .”
“One of the Sherpas will take you back. You’ll just have to stay put there until we return, unless you can get a flight back to Kathmandu. That’s possible, I suppose.”
Hope did her best to wrap the ankle so that he could hobble. One of the Sherpas found a tree branch that could be used as a crutch.
“It’s going to take you a long time, so you had better get going,” Marquis said. “Bad luck, old man.”
“Yeah.” Scott said his good-byes to the rest of the team and his fellow Americans, then he and Chettan, one of the Sherpas, began the long trek back.
When they were out of earshot, Hope addressed everyone. “I was afraid that would happen. He had been complaining of headaches. He had a mild case of AMS and wasn’t totally with it. It just goes to show you that accidents can happen quickly and unexpectedly.”
“Can AMS really strike at this altitude?” the young American known as “the kid” asked.
“It varies with the individual,” she replied. “We’re really not very high yet, but that doesn’t matter. Some people experience symptoms of AMS just driving a car up to a higher elevation than the one they’re used to. Others have difficulty riding an elevator to the top of a skyscraper. Everyone is different. That’s why you’ve got to be aware of the symptoms.”
‘Fine, fine,” Marquis said impatiently. “Well, we’ve lost one team member, let’s not lose any others, all right? We had better push on.”
They picked up their gear and continued on the faint path that roust have been trampled by a few hundred people over the last fifty years.
The next hour was a tough one. The terrain changed, and although the altitude increase was minimal, the ground was rockier and more difficult to walk on. One of the Sherpas said that a rock fall from the neighboring “hill” had caused the problem.
They eventually got to a smoother path, and Bond caught up with Roland Marquis, who was dressed in khakis and a wool flannel shirt that was embroidered with RAF insignia.
“Hello, Bond,” he said, steadily marching as if he were on a “No, I came forward to see what that horrible smell coming from the front of the team,” Bond said with a straight face.
“Very funny. I suppose you think you can do better, eh?”
“Not at all, Roland. Can’t you take a joke? I think you’re doing a splendid job. I mean it.”
“By Jove, Bond, it almost sounds as if you really do. Well, thanks. It’s not easy, this. You know as well as I that the schedule is damn near impossible,” Marquis said quietly. It was the first time Bond had ever heard him say anything without his macho facade.
“I can’t believe that fool American tripped and broke his bloody ankle,” he continued. “Somehow, when a member of my team gets hurt, I feel responsible.”
“That’s only natural,” Bond said.
“But what happened was stupid. I should have looked at his credentials more carefully.”
“Roland, I’m concerned about the new man, Schrenk,” Bond said. “There wasn’t time for SIS to completely clear him. What do you know about him?”
“Nothing, except that he doesn’t say a bloody word to anyone. I wondered when you were going to mention him to me. I had no choice but to bring him on, Bond. He was the only one. Now with Scott gone, we’ll really need the extra manpower. Besides, it was SIS’s job to check him out, not mine. I reviewed only his mountaineering credentials, which were excellent, so don’t complain to me.” treadmill. Keeping up with him meant not lagging for an instant. “Come to see how it feels to be leader for a while?”
They walked on in silence. Both men were breathing at the same rate, moving with the same speed, and thinking identical things about each other.
“I do love climbing,” Marquis said after a while. “If I didn’t love it so much, I certainly wouldn’t be the leader. But it takes someone with experience to be leader, I suppose. Have you ever led an expedition Bond?”
“No.”
“No, of course you haven’t. You don’t make the sport a habit, do you?”
“Not like you, Roland. I go climbing only once every three or four years”
“That’s too long a gap. What if a golfer played only once every three or four years? He wouldn’t be a very good golfer.”
“It’s a bit different.”
“I’m just making a point, that’s all,” Marquis said.
“What is it?”
“That climbing isn’t a sport for you. You’re an amateur. You’re a good amateur, don’t get me wrong, but you’re still an amateur.”
“You haven’t seen me in action yet, Roland.”
“True, I suppose I should wait until we’re at seven thousand meters before I make that assessment.”
“Everything has to be a contest with you, doesn’t it, Roland?” Bond said rhetorically.
Marquis laughed aloud. “Admit it, Bond, you’ve always been a little jealous of me. I beat you too many times on the wrestling mat back when we were boys.”
“Once more, I seem to remember it the other way around.”
“There you go again distorting history,” Marquis said.
“I wouldn’t think of it.” It took everything to keep Bond from losing his sense of humor. They walked for ten minutes in silence again.
Finally, Marquis asked, “So, Bond, what do you think of our good doctor?”
“She seems capable,” Bond said tactfully.
Marquis laughed. “Oh, she’s a fine doctor. I meant, what do you think of her as a woman?”
Again, Bond said, “She seems capable.”
Marquis snorted. “I think she’s simply amazing.”
Bond normally didn’t like to discuss other people’s relationships. He was curious, though, to see what Marquis might have to say about her. He was the type of man who enjoyed boasting and had a loose tongue when it came to sexual exploits. The trouble was that his kind man also tended to exaggerate.
“I know what you’re thinking, Bond,” Marquis said. “You’re wondering what kind of relationship I have with her. We’re not lovers, if that’s what you think. We were once, a few years ago. We tried to rekindle it at the beginning of this little venture, but it didn’t work out. We’re just friends now.”
“Are you saying she’s fair game?” Bond asked.
Marquis stopped dramatically in his tracks. Bond almost stumbled, then halted and looked at Marquis, who had a glint in his eye that was full of menace.
“She’s absolutely fair game, if you can manage it,” he said. There was, however, an implicit warning in the voice.
At that moment Hope walked up and stood between them. Her long, golden tresses blew in the wind and around the pack on her back. Even with no makeup and none of the normal day-to-day personal conveniences enjoyed by western women, she was wholesomely attractive.
“I expected to find you two arm-wrestling up here,” she said. “Roland, you look like you’re ready to hit your friend, here. Did he say something mean?”
“It’s nothing, my dear,” Marquis said. “Bond and I go way back, that’s all.”
“So I’ve heard. You two had better behave. The smell of testosterone over here is overpowering. I don’t want to have to patch up either of you after you’ve beaten each other into a pulp.”
“We’re not fighting,” Marquis said.
“Not even over me?” she asked facetiously, but Bond thought she was more earnest than she let on.
Marquis turned to her and said, “Yes, Hope, my dear, that’s precisely what we’re doing. We’re
fighting over you.”
She didn’t rise to his anger at all. She turned up her nose flirtatiously and said, “Well, in that case, may the best man win.” With that, she moved back toward the others, who had all interpreted Marquis’s stopping as a signal for them to halt and rest.
“What are you doing sitting on your arses?” he shouted at them. “We’ve had our rest already! Get up! There’s still about an hour to go before we reach camp.”
Irritably, he turned and began trekking forward. Bond let him lead on and waited until Chandra caught up with him. Hope passed him, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye but not saying a word.
Bond thought that she was the biggest tease in the Eastern Hemisphere. Normally he disdained women of that ilk, but with her, the come-on was more of a challenge. He was beginning to understand her better. By her own admission, this was an intelligent woman who liked to get physical. She was unable to separate her rough, clinical manner as a medical practitioner from the rather coarse nature of her individual sexuality. Just as she liked to see what made human beings tick, she was stimulated by the primal rituals between males and females. She enjoyed the mating game in its purest sense. Perhaps this explained her love for the outdoors and for adventure. Bond was convinced that she probably had a healthy percentage of testosterone in her own body. He wondered what she might be like in bed. . . .
Bond continued up the path with Chandra and Paul Baack. The camp was a welcome sight when they finally reached it at four o’clock in the afternoon.
The overnight stay in Ghaiya Bai was uneventful, and the team had settled into a daily routine that would vary little until they reached the Base Camp. The goal for the day was to reach Kyapra, at 2,700 meters. The following day the team would ascend to a relatively major village called Ghunsa, located at 3,440 meters. Normally, a few days would be spent there acclimatizing, but that wasn’t in Marquis’s plan.
Bond stayed with Chandra most of the morning, purposefully avoiding any contact with either Roland Marquis or Hope Kendall. He had enough to worry about without getting into a match of wills with one or the other. Instead, he concentrated on the day’s goal and tried to enjoy the scenery. They were seeing fewer and fewer signs of civilization as they ascended above 2,500 meters.
At lunchtime Paul Baack approached Bond and said, “The Chinese are less than a mile that way.” He pointed toward the southwest. The big man handed him a pair of binoculars. Bond stood on a rock and looked through them.
He could see a group of at least ten men moving slowly across the side of a hill toward a site where many Sherpas had set up their own lunch stop.
Marquis climbed on the rock and asked, “What do you see?”
“We have company,” Bond said. He handed the binoculars to Marquis so that he could look, then asked, “I think Chandra and I should leave you here and do a little reconnaissance. We’ll meet you in Ghunsa tomorrow afternoon.”
“What, you’ll do a bivouac tonight?”
“That’s right,” Bond said, “we’ll go without a tent. We both have bivouac sacks. We each have copies of the trekking route. We’ll be fine. We’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
“I don’t like the idea of you wandering off, Bond,” Marquis said.
“Sorry, Roland,” Bond said. “We’re going.” He jumped down from the rock and went to explain the plan to Chandra.
Roland Marquis frowned to himself. He needed Bond in one piece, at least until they found Skin 17.
Bond and Chandra slipped away from the others and made their way as surreptitiously as possible toward the Chinese expedition. They got within one hundred meters of them, close enough to make an assessment of their group.
“There are eleven of them,” Chandra said, looking through binoculars. “And a lot of porters.” He scanned each man carefully and noted, “At least three of the men are carrying rifles. Why would anyone want a rifle on an expedition up Kangchenjunga?”
“Unless they were planning to do someone some harm when they get there,” Bond suggested. “Come on, they’re moving.”
Chandra moved stealthily, and Bond followed. The Gurkha was superior mountaineer. He also knew tricks and techniques to move around the hills unseen. Bond gladly turned over the leadership of their side venture to him.
Shortly before sundown the Chinese set up camp not far from Kyapra. They pitched tents and were settling down for the night. Bond and Chandra took up a position above them, nestled in an array of rock formations surrounded by a few trees.
“Well wait until dark, when they’re asleep,” Bond said. “Then we’ll see what there is to see.”
Chandra grinned. “I haven’t had this much fun since Bosnia.”
“Bosnia was fun?”
“Yes, sir! Any kind of action is better than sitting in England twiddling our thumbs. I’ve been to Zaire. The Gulf War was interesting. I had never been in that part of the world. I’m still waiting for the chance to use my khukri the way my ancestors did.”
“You mean that you haven’t killed anyone with it yet?”
“That’s right,” Chandra said. “I’ve chopped plenty of fruits and vegetables with it, but no enemy necks. Someday I make a good tossed salad with heads, and I don’t mean lettuce, eh, James?”
“You Gurkhas have a morbid sense of humor, did anyone ever tell you that?”
“All the time.”
“Chandra, if you’re part Buddhist, how is it that you could kill if you had to?”
“That’s a good question, James,” the Gurkha said. “Buddhists are not supposed to kill any living creature. However, I am a soldier and a Gurkha. We are here to preserve the dignity and freedom of man. I know it’s a contradiction in terms, but the Gurkhas have been a contradiction in terms for nearly two hundred years!”
Nightfall finally came, and they waited until the last embers of the Chinese campfire died. Then, slowly and silently, they crept down the hill toward the site. Bond had observed the group carefully so that he could pinpoint which tents held humans and which ones only equipment and food supplies. The portable kitchen, similar to their own, was built near there. The Sherpas were sleeping in tents close to this area, and Bond knew that they would probably be lighter keepers than the Chinese.
Using a penlight, Bond found sacks of rice and lentils. Another group of bags held tea. There was a sack of dried figs and other fruits.
He whispered to Chandra, “They seem fairly ill equipped, wouldn’t you say I’m afraid we have to play a dirty trick on them and contaminate the food somehow Then they’ll have to turn back to resupply themselves, and by then they’ll be too late to catch up. Got any ideas?”
Chandra whispered back, “That’s easy!” He removed the khukri from its sheath, then neatly slit open the bag of rice. He did it so swiftly that it didn’t make a sound. The rice poured out onto the ground. The next thing he did flabbergasted Bond. The Gurkha unzipped his fly and proceeded to urinate all over the spilled rice. He grinned at Bond the entire time.
“Hand me your knife,” Bond said, stifling a laugh. Chandra handed it over, still relieving himself. Bond slit open the other bags of food and poured the contents onto the pile of freshly sprayed rice. He took a stick and mixed it all up. Chandra zipped up, then removed the two tiny knives from the khukri sheath. He squatted down and rubbed the two blades together on the burlap sacks. A spark flew, then another, and another. After four tries, the burlap caught fire.
“I think it’s time we run now, James,” Chandra said.
A gunshot startled them, and they turned to flee. They heard several men shouting in Chinese. The flames grew in intensity as they climbed away from the camp. More gunshots whizzed past them, but by that time they were in the dark. The marksmen were firing blindly. Some of them retrieved torches and cast the beams over the hill, but they were ineffective. Bond could hear at least three men scrambling up the rocks after them. After more gunshots, the entire camp was up, running about and shouting. The Sherpas were busy trying to put out
the fire, which had engulfed all their supplies. Bond and Chandra climbed back into their niche in the cliff and watched the chaos below. The pursuers had given up and returned to the campsite to help salvage what they could.
It took them half an hour to extinguish the fire. Bond and Chandra had achieved their goal. The Chinese expedition was completely sabotaged. They could hear them arguing and shouting at one another. The Sherpas began to argue as well, and Chandra could pick up a little of what they were saying.
“The Sherpas are very upset that the Chinese fired guns here. They say the gods will not be pleased and will bring misfortune on them. They refuse to go farther. They are now without any food. They are turning back in the morning.”
The Chinese calmed down after an hour. Someone had apparently brought out a couple of bottles of alcohol, and that did the trick. Eventually, they crawled back into their tents, leaving just one man with a rifle on guard.
Bond opened his North Face bivouac sack and secured it behind a large stone, where there was just enough room for him to stretch out. Chandra found a hole where he could curl up in his own sack.
“Shuba ratri, James,” Chandra said quietly.
When they awoke the next morning, the Chinese expedition had given up, packed, and left.
EIGHTEEN
TENSIONS RISE
WHEN BOND AND CHANDRA saw the village of Ghunsa perched on the side of a snow-covered peak, they breathed a sigh of relief. The ascent to 3,440 meters had taken its toll on them, and Bond found himself becoming winded quickly and having to stop and rest more often. Chandra, on the other hand, seemed to be unaffected by the altitude.
There were some yak herders living there, and Bond admired how people could live this high in the mountains and make ends meet. The villagers stopped and stared at the two of them, more curious about the man who was obviously a Gurkha soldier than the Caucasian encroaching on their land.
They rounded a bend and saw a campsite some two hundred meters away.
“That must be us,” Bond said. “I hope lunch is ready, I’m starving.”
They climbed up a slick wet rock face to a ledge. It wasn’t necessary to use climbing tools yet, but they knew they would be employing the ice axes soon enough. The trek from Ghunsa to the Base Camp was substantially steeper. The next two days would be more strenuous.
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