by Matt Rogers
Sweat beaded across his forehead, and he fought the urge to gasp.
He raised his Sig and took aim at the man who’d shot at him but he found himself reeling, his aim thrown off by the extenuating circumstances, his focus wavering.
He fired twice and missed both times.
In the light of the muzzle flares he saw the twisted grotesque expression on the insurgent’s face, and saw the guy take careful aim, and King found himself staring right down the barrel of the weapon and his heart rate surged through the roof and panic seized him in its cold grip and he fought the urge to cry out in desperation—
And the guy’s head exploded.
The gunshot came from over King’s shoulder and he nearly lost his balance again, but then Will Slater was right beside him, looping a hand around his underarm and wrenching him to his feet.
He got a firm grip on the soil underneath his boots, and regained his composure in an instant.
Then they stood side-by-side and realised in unison that they’d memorised the positions of the remaining insurgents from the last muzzle flash.
So they raised their Sigs and fired simultaneously, and their weapons blared with rage, and—
The final insurgents fell dead into the undergrowth, arteries severed, bleeding from several bullet wounds each.
King dropped to his knees as a final precaution, and heard Slater do the same.
He’d lost count of the number of men he’d killed.
They stayed vigilant, waiting for their hearing to return as the seconds ticked by.
Minutes elapsed.
There was nothing.
Slater muttered, ‘How bad’s your ankle?’
‘Not the best it’s ever been.’
‘Wait here.’
He turned, and his silhouette disappeared. King wasn’t in a hurry — he settled back into the undergrowth, placed his back against the nearest tree, and got his breathing under control. The adrenaline wore off. The stress chemicals dissipated. When Slater finally returned with a headlamp in his palm, King was back to normal.
‘You ready?’ Slater said. ‘In case this kicks everything off again?’
King clutched the Sig Sauer tight in his hand and nodded wordlessly.
‘Here goes,’ Slater said.
He flicked on the torchlight.
The white LED flared, brilliant in the night. It evaporated the darkness, and Slater swung the beam left and right. King tracked it with his weapon, keeping his back to the tree. When everything in a hundred-and-eighty degree radius had been cleared, they shimmied around the trunk and cleared the other side.
No sign of hostility.
A whole lot of corpses.
But no live bodies.
‘Well,’ Slater said, ‘that’s sorted.’
King exhaled properly for the first time and squeezed his eyes shut in relief.
51
Slater knew King was back in the same catastrophic routine.
Walk all day, maintain momentum, and then freeze up at night as the swelling intensifies. King wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, and the man needed a good night’s sleep if he wanted to be in any way functional tomorrow. So Slater told him to stay where he was, and went to retrieve their belongings.
He gathered both duffel bags and both sleeping bags and carted all the gear up the hillside. Then he dropped it at King’s feet.
‘We sleep here,’ Slater said.
‘Surrounded by bodies?’
‘I’m not letting you walk anywhere. You need these next eight hours to get the swelling down.’
King sighed, but seemed to accept it. He slumped further down the trunk and stretched his bad leg out. The only light came from Slater’s headlamp, so he didn’t see the wince plastered across his friend’s face, but he knew it was there.
Slater said, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m only going to tell you this one more time,’ King said, staring up at him. ‘Stop asking me that. It only makes it worse.’
‘Sorry. I’m concerned, that’s all.’
‘Give me the rest of the night to hibernate, and I’ll be okay by morning.’
‘You should call Violetta.’
King said, ‘Good point. I’ll do that, and you get me ice.’
‘Where from?’
‘The guest house.’
‘He won’t do it.’
‘Ask nicely.’
‘That won’t make a difference.’
‘Then ask sternly.’
‘King…’
‘If you want me to be able to walk tomorrow, I need ice. There’s no other way around it.’
‘I don’t want to get caught hanging around there again. It’ll put him and his family at risk.’
‘Then use your training, for Christ’s sake.’
Slater stared into space for a beat, then shrugged and nodded. ‘Okay. You owe me.’
‘I’ve always owed you.’
‘You’ll be okay here?’
‘We just killed a dozen men. I’m sure we’ve bought ourselves at least an hour, don’t you think?’
Slater left the duffels and the sleeping bags with King and set off toward the trail. His arm throbbed with each step, but it was manageable. He made sure to take care where he placed his feet, especially moving downhill, but he was adjusting to the dark with each passing minute. After a spell, he got careless.
Then he tripped on a body.
He plummeted forward and threw his shoulder down and rolled with it, careening through the undergrowth, and loose dirt showered over him. Then he twisted on the spot and brought the Sig Sauer up to aim and found himself face-to-face with a pale corpse. It startled him that he could make out the bullet hole in the centre of the insurgent’s forehead, but then he turned his face to the sky and found the moon had crawled out of its hiding place behind thick cloud.
He used the weak ethereal light to guide him the rest of the way to the guest house.
He approached low, aiming for a side door that led to what he believed to be the kitchen, but it opened even before he could knock.
The owner stared at him, wholly disappointed.
Slater tucked the Sig into his waistband before the man could lay eyes on the pistol.
‘What do you want?’ the man said.
‘An ice pack.’
‘Go away.’
‘Please.’
‘I told you stakes before.’
‘We’ve been busy,’ Slater said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s no-one left to witness this.’
The owner’s face paled, and he steadied himself. Then his expression hardened. ‘For now. There’ll be more.’
‘But not yet.’
Silence.
Slater said, ‘I don’t want to make you fetch me it at gunpoint.’
The owner growled to himself. ‘There only so many times you can threaten me before it become obvious you not going to do it.’
‘I’ll do it if I have to.’
The man shook his head in disappointment and retreated into the corridor. Slater didn’t follow him. He waited patiently, and rubbed his hands together as warmth spilled out of the guest house.
The owner returned promptly with a trio of ice packs. He passed them over, one by one.
Slater said, ‘You didn’t have to do that. I only asked for—’
‘I no want to help. For what it might do to my family. But if you are here, and I must help, then I help as much as I can.’
‘Thank you.’
The guy waved a hand dismissively. ‘Worse for you than for me. Your friend … he have trouble walking.’
‘Swollen ankle. He might be hurt real bad. We don’t know yet.’
‘So he need this.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then wish him good luck. From me.’
‘Thank you. I will.’
The owner paused there, scrutinising Slater.
Slater allowed it.
Eventually the man said, ‘You have no quit
in you.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Every day, I see guest come into this place. All very tired. All weary from trail. It is tough, especially when cover great distances. I give them food and drink and sometimes bed. But I always look at their eyes. So I can see if they have quit. And usually I right. Sometimes altitude affect them, sometimes their bodies break down. But I know if they going to stop. You will not stop. I can see in eyes.’
Slater soaked it in, and said, ‘I appreciate that.’
Then the owner narrowed his gaze. ‘See, you are definitely feeling altitude. You are heavy. But no quit.’
Slater didn’t want to address that.
It felt like his bones were made of lead. Like there was a two-hundred-pound weight resting squarely on his shoulders.
He said, ‘No. I don’t think I will.’
‘Your friend, either.’
‘No,’ Slater said. ‘He certainly won’t.’
‘Then you will get girl back. I know.’
‘Do you?’
‘Just guess. But usually, my guess good.’
Slater offered a hand, and the man shook it.
‘That means more than you know,’ Slater said.
The corners of the man’s mouth tilted upward, and he said, ‘I know.’
Slater tucked the icepacks under his arm and turned away, trudging back toward the tree line.
Suddenly reassured.
Because, unbeknownst to the owner, for the first time in his life he’d felt like quitting.
52
When Slater left, King fished the satellite phone out and kept one hand over the display’s glow, just in case there were any insurgents in the vicinity.
He dialled, and pressed the device to his ear with a heavy hand.
Violetta immediately said, ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes. They ambushed us. We took care of it.’
‘At the guest house?’
‘No. The owner didn’t let us stay. His family were threatened.’
‘I see.’
He could hear every slight waver in her tone as she struggled to suppress her emotions.
It gnawed at his willpower.
Screamed at him to let the emotion out.
But he couldn’t.
Not this close to victory.
They were compartmentalising for a reason.
He said, ‘We’re sleeping outdoors. We’ll be okay.’
‘How many ambushed you?’
‘A dozen, maybe.’
‘Jason…’
‘We’ll catch them tomorrow. You know we will.’
‘You have to survive until then.’
‘They don’t have endless forces. That was their best effort, and we quashed it. They’re counting on getting as far up the trail as possible before they begin negotiations, right?’
‘They want to begin now, but we’re holding them off. We might be able to squeeze another day out of it.’
‘Then that’s another day they need to keep moving. I’m sure Raya and Perry are dead tired. That’s not even mentioning the logistical problems. We’ll catch them tomorrow.’
‘They’ll be heading for Gokyo — the village below Gokyo Ri. I’m sure of it.’
‘Then we’ll find them there.’
‘You’ll have to go in dark,’ Violetta said, her tone hesitant. ‘There’s no-one willing to communicate with us in the village — we’ve already been checking like clockwork. Everyone’s turned into a steel trap — the teahouse owners, the locals, the tourists. It’s like someone got there first and told everyone to keep their mouths shut.’
King had an idea. ‘Can you get us a helicopter there?’
‘No.’
‘I didn’t want to reveal this, but my ankle is bad.’
He heard her lower her forehead to the table in front of her. ‘I knew it.’
‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to make the final trek tomorrow.’
‘The helicopter companies are already uncooperative, and we know why. There’ll be external pressure on them from the insurgents. And if we force them to fly you the final stretch, they’ll radio it straight to the Maoists, even if we make them land at a secluded location. You’ll be fish in a barrel when you touch down. You need to walk it.’
‘Okay.’
‘Can you?’
‘You said it yourself — I have to.’
‘You don’t have to do anything. You can pull out if you can’t continue.’
‘No,’ King said, ‘I can’t.’
‘Yes, you—’
‘That’s never been an option. Not once throughout my career. I’m not about to start making it one.’
‘Is it broken?’
‘I don’t think so. It’s just damaged. Swollen like a pumpkin.’
‘Do whatever you need to do to get it under control.’
‘I’m working on that.’
‘Take painkillers if you have to. In the first-aid kit there’s some serious—’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘They’ll dull my senses. I can’t afford that.’
Violetta paused for thought, and said, ‘You might just be the strongest person I know.’
‘Slater would have something to say about that.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not dating Will Slater.’
Despite himself, King smiled. ‘I need to rest.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘Anything else you got for me?’
‘You should probably know that — statistically — it’s likely the kidnappers will turn violent if this drags out any longer.’
‘They cut her finger off, Violetta. I’d say we already crossed that line.’
‘That’s just the start. The fact that they know about special risks insurers and professional negotiators is unnerving. That means they know what they’re doing, and it’s endlessly more dangerous when they know what they’re doing.’
‘You think they’ve been doing this for some time now?’
‘It’s hard to say. Like I said, kidnap statistics are messy. The vast majority aren’t reported. For all we know, they’ve been hitting trekkers for months now and making sure it all gets swept under the rug. If nothing’s officially reported, then they could be experts at this by now.’
‘It’s a good thing we’re here to clean it up, then.’
‘Yeah…’
King let the silence drag out.
She said, ‘Be careful, okay?’
‘One last question,’ King said. ‘Did Parker tell you about the briefcase?’
‘No… Christ, I haven’t even been thinking about that. Was there something important in it?’
‘His laptop. He said he left a document open with the locations of ten temporary black-ops HQs on home soil. Has anyone in your department heard about that?’
‘No… not a word… wait, why on earth would he do that?’
‘Fatigue, he claims.’
‘That’s something we needed to know about the moment it went missing.’
‘Get in touch with him, then.’
‘I will. He’s still in Phaplu, waiting on word from the trail. Shouldn’t be too hard to reach him.’
‘I don’t completely trust him.’
‘You shouldn’t completely trust anyone.’
‘Besides you.’
He thought he heard her smile. ‘I’m flattered.’
‘We’re compartmentalising, remember?’
‘I remember. Get some rest.’
‘On it.’
He hung up before he said anything he might regret.
Then he lapsed into the same familiar trance-like state, letting his guard down in the process. But there was no need to stay alert any longer. They’d decimated the hostile force, and the bodies all around him proved it. For now, they’d bought themselves time. He closed his eyes and drifted into an uneasy half-sleep, plagued by remnants of pain trickling up his leg.
When he opened his eyes again, his ankl
e had stopped throbbing.
He breathed a sigh of relief, and then Slater crashed through the trees nearby.
‘Christ,’ King said. ‘You scared me.’
‘Good,’ Slater said, and handed over three icepacks. ‘Means you’re paying attention.’
‘I won’t be for much longer.’
‘That’s okay. If we bed down here in total darkness, there’ll be more than enough time to react if we see more torchlights. Sleep in shifts?’
‘I’ll need first shift,’ King said. ‘Sorry.’
‘That’s okay. I’m fine.’
‘How’s the arm?’
‘It hurts like hell.’
‘Nothing out of the ordinary, then.’
‘Not long left.’
King arranged the three icepacks in a giant ring around his ankle and taped them into place. Then he rolled over, savoured the numbness that crept through the joint, and went straight to sleep.
53
Slater didn’t waver.
He sat bolt upright and meditated, figuring he’d make use of the time. Hours passed, bringing nothing but the wind and the rustling of the trees and the distant howling of dogs. The environment might have unnerved a more timid soul, but he’d been through so much since touching down in Nepal that it barely fazed him. He wrapped himself in several layers of all-weather clothing and draped the sleeping bag over his shoulders and stared straight ahead, barely blinking.
He became the night.
And the stillness helped him in other ways. His heavy muscles relaxed, and his heart pumped at a reasonable rate, and he could swear he was staving off the effects of the altitude on his oxygen requirements.
But there was still another trek to be completed in the morning.
To Gokyo.
He knew precious little about the village — then again, he knew precious little about the route in general. That hadn’t hindered them so far, and now they were confirmed to be closing in on the enemy party. That gave him strength, despite the pain.
Four hours into the deep meditation, he shook himself out of it and tapped King on the shoulder.
The man sat up in an instant.
‘My turn?’ he said.
‘Yeah. I assume the ice melted?’
‘A while ago. But I can’t feel my foot. It’s brilliant.’
Slater almost scoffed at the masochism. ‘Glad to hear.’