by Matt Rogers
He told King.
There was no use hiding it.
‘Let me take the lead,’ King said. ‘There’s only a handful of teahouses here. We’ll have what we need to know within minutes.’
‘You hit the first one,’ Slater said. ‘I’ll wait out front.’
‘Try to make yourself invisible.’
‘Always.’
Then it was game time.
No build-up, no unnecessary machismo, no mutual chest-puffing.
Just a simple nod to each other, and then they went into operational mode.
As promised, King took the lead. He shielded himself from any vantage points in the windows of buildings they were approaching and transferred the Sig Sauer from his waistband to his jacket pocket. Then he kept both hands in his pockets, turned back to face the town, and made a beeline for the closest teahouse.
Slater followed.
It was a two-storey lodge-style building surrounded by snowy slopes, complete with smoke billowing from a chimney atop the roof. There was a dry room just inside the entrance to hang any outerwear before venturing further into the warmth of the hallways. A few fogged-up windows faced them as they made their approach, but there was no-one looking out. They were invisible for now.
King hustled into the entrance and dusted snow off his jacket and pants. He stamped his feet a few times and gestured to a thin wooden bench running the length of the dry room.
‘Wait there,’ he said.
Slater actually appreciated the coddling. He couldn’t think straight. He sat himself down on the bench, put his back to the wall, made the same transfer with his Sig from waistband to jacket pocket, and widened his gaze to encompass the entire room. If anyone stepped in with hostile intentions, he’d have the wherewithal to blow a hole through their forehead before they could try anything.
Then he slumped down and tried to recharge.
King hovered across the room. ‘You’re not going to drop dead on me, are you?’
‘Not if I can help it.’
‘I’ll be right back.’
He ducked into the hallway and vanished from sight.
Slater took in a deep rattling breath, held it for a few seconds, and released it.
He was hurting.
And then, piece by piece, the lack of oxygen caught up to him.
Minute by minute, he started getting worse.
58
King stepped into the dining room and found at least twenty trekkers spread across the tables.
One by one, they turned in their seats to check him out.
He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. He hunched over as if the day’s journey had sapped all the energy out of him, which didn’t require too much of a performance. He kept his hands in his pockets and trundled over to the service desk skewered into the far wall, manned by an older Nepali guy in his fifties. The P320’s stock in his right palm gave him reassurance, and he kept a tight grip on it the whole way across the room.
He could almost taste the tension.
They were here. Raya, and Perry, and the porter, and a small army of rebels. They were probably spread across the teahouses to minimise scrutiny, but they were here all the same. There was simply no alternative. Camping away from settlements wasn’t conducive to survival, so they’d have to stay in a village. And Gokyo was the only option, based on where they’d been spotted along the trail.
So this was it.
The culmination of the journey.
He stepped up to the desk, met the worker’s gaze, and paid very close attention for signs of suspicion.
And he found them immediately.
He said, ‘Can I get a room?’
The man wasn’t a good actor. He stared at King for a few beats, registering the newcomer’s appearance. Then he said, ‘Just you?’
Then and there, King knew the man had been given their description.
String him along. Find out what you can.
He said, ‘I have someone with me.’
‘Who?’
The guy was too curious. His ears practically perked up at the announcement of another traveller. So the word was out. Maybe every teahouse in the village had been told to look out for King and Slater, and to contact the necessary parties if they arrived.
The gears were now in motion. The cat was out of the bag. There was no going back.
King said, ‘My wife.’
‘Your wife?’
Palpable confusion.
Not part of the game plan.
King said, ‘Yes. Is there a problem?’
‘Where is your wife?’
‘Downstairs.’
Hesitation.
More confusion.
The guy was unsure how to proceed. He had limited English as it was, and wasn’t particularly nuanced in manipulation.
He said, ‘Sir, could you bring wife up here, please?’
‘No.’
‘I need to see who is getting room.’
King allowed rage to settle over his features, and said, ‘She’s very tired. That would be incredibly rude if you made her come all the way up here. She needs to rest.’
‘Yes, sir, but—’
King glared at him. ‘Would you like me to take my business elsewhere?’
It wasn’t so much the prospect of losing money as it was going against his instincts. The Nepali were overwhelmingly kind and polite people, and even though this man might have been instructed at gunpoint to identify King and Slater together, he wasn’t about to offend anyone in his establishment. So he held up both hands and offered a placid look of acceptance and said, ‘No, sorry, sir. I give you room, and you pay when you check out. Okay?’
There was little else to say. King wasn’t in the mood to loiter with his back turned to the rest of the room, so he nodded his thanks and held his hand out for the key.
The man handed it over.
‘Downstairs,’ he said. ‘Corridor 1. It is labelled. Room 105.’
‘Thank you.’
An awkward silence elapsed, and King immediately knew they would find no refuge here. The guy didn’t want to make small talk — he no doubt had direct orders to inform someone as soon as he identified the persons-of-interest. Even though Slater wasn’t up here with King, enough suspicion had been aroused to proceed.
King turned and walked away. He felt eyes drilling into him, but didn’t meet any of the trekkers’ gazes. There wasn’t likely to be anything hostile in them, but he wasn’t in the mood for a chat with anyone.
Tension laced the air.
He sensed the worker’s eyes boring into the back of his skull. Thinking, Are you the man everyone’s looking for?
Yes, King thought. Yes, I am.
And we both know it.
He wondered how long it would take for the cavalry to arrive.
Was the guy dialling the phone already?
King didn’t look back. He figured if he acted oblivious it might buy more time. They could slow down and formulate a game plan if they thought neither King nor Slater were wise to their presence.
They.
Whoever “they” were.
And that was what made him truly uncomfortable. He and Slater knew nothing, and now the owner was alert to who they were.
But there had to be principles in place. Rules and customs that could not be violated. The owner wouldn’t have agreed to anything if it ran the risk of ruining his business. A shootout in the hallways of a popular tourist destination wouldn’t do anyone any favours in the long-term, so the job would have to be carried out quietly.
That, at least, gave them something.
King made it back to the dry room.
The satellite phone in his pocket shrieked.
And he found Slater half-conscious.
59
He answered with one hand, and used the other to haul Slater to his feet.
He already knew it was Violetta.
‘Please tell me you have something,’ he said. ‘We’re quickly running out
of options. I think our cover’s blown already.’
‘Are you in Gokyo?’
King took almost all of Slater’s weight and helped him limp across the dry room into the corridor, plunging them both into shadow. The whole time, he kept the phone pressed to his ear. Slater murmured something. King said, ‘Wait one,’ and leant over.
‘What?’ he said to Slater.
‘Not … doing well.’
‘No shit.’
‘Need rest. Not for long. Just got to … gather myself.’
‘You need a fucking hospital.’
He kept dragging Slater toward room 105.
Then he leant back into the receiver and said, ‘Yeah, we’re in Gokyo.’
‘Were you talking to Will just then?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He’s not doing well, then.’
‘I think his body’s having trouble circulating oxygen.’
‘Headaches? Nausea?’
King relayed the questions.
Slater shook his head. ‘No. Just … heavy.’
‘You need to get him to a lower altitude,’ Violetta said.
‘We can’t do that right now.’
‘Jason, you’re going to have to push on alone.’
‘Why?’
‘We have another video.’
‘Oh, Christ. Can you hold on?’
‘Yes.’
They reached a cheap door at the end of the hallway with “105” scratched into the wood. King shoved the key into the lock, twisted, and pushed it open. The whole time he fought the knot in his stomach.
Another video.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to watch.
Slater mumbled, ‘What did she say?’
King didn’t respond. He helped him into the room and lowered him to one of the thin mattresses. It was freezing, practically the same temperature as outside. King peered out the window, his breath clouding in front of his face. He saw nothing but the outlines of distant buildings obscured by the snowstorm. He drew the blinds shut and helped Slater adjust his position in bed. Then he picked up the phone again.
‘How bad is it?’ he said.
‘Raya’s not in it.’
King paused. ‘Who is?’
‘Oscar Perry.’
60
King took his time to respond.
Then finally he said, ‘Just let me watch it.’
‘I’ll send it through now.’
‘I’ll call you back.’
He hung up, sat down on the other single bed, and put his elbows on his knees.
Slater said, ‘Why the long face?’
‘There’s another video.’
A pause.
Slater said, ‘What did they do to her?’
‘Nothing. Violetta said Perry’s in it.’
‘Show me.’
‘It hasn’t come through yet, but—’
The phone beeped in his palm.
King opened the file and scrutinised the thumbnail. It showed Oscar Perry, all six-foot-two of him, all his muscle, all that curly blond hair. He still had the same superficial cuts and scratches dotted across his cheeks and jawline, but there was a certain vitality in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was sitting on a chair in a bare concrete room.
There was a piece of lined paper in his hands.
He was reading from it.
‘Hope the pair of you are tired,’ he said, his voice stilted as he vocalised the written message. ‘You’ve done well to make it to Gokyo. We thought you’d turn back, but you haven’t, so now we’re somewhat impressed. We agree to meet with you. Maybe you can be the negotiators for your government instead. But you know what that means. If something happens to Raya, you’re the ones responsible. That’s a lot of weight on your shoulders. That’s a heavy burden to carry.’
Oscar Perry took a deep breath before continuing.
‘We are already at a pre-established encampment a short hike down the other side of Gokyo Ri. Don’t worry — it’s well hidden. We made the climb today. Raya, to her credit, persevered well. The pair of you can meet us there tomorrow at nine a.m., and not a minute later. This is the only opportunity we will give you to resolve this peacefully. Hiking up to this elevation should sap every last bit of energy from you, especially after what you’ve managed to cover in three days. That’s exactly how we want you when we meet face-to-face. We are looking forward to it. Please bring your best negotiation tactics, and don’t even think about bringing backup. The benefit of our position is an unobstructed view of anyone coming up to the peak. You even think about using a helicopter, we’ll know. And we won’t be here when you arrive. We know this terrain better than you or anyone in your government.’
Perry gulped, wiped sweat off his brow, and hunched over a little more.
Clearly uncomfortable.
‘So,’ he continued. ‘Those are the conditions. Nine a.m. tomorrow. As you watch this video, we probably know where you are staying. But we will hold back. We will not attack you tonight. We want you tired, but not dead. Raya Parker is clearly worth a lot of money, and we’re not about to waste that opportunity. So you can sleep comfortably, knowing that we place value in your lives, and we will see you tomorrow. Do not try to figure out who is behind this. There’s no point. Good luck.’
Perry looked up, meeting the gaze of someone behind the camera, and nodded once.
All done.
There was a grunt of approval, and the feed cut out.
King played it back one more time, took in every word that left Perry’s mouth, and then when it came to its conclusion for the second time he said, ‘It’s him.’
Slater said, ‘We don’t know that.’
King gave him a look, as if to say, Really?
‘What?’
‘You think a Nepali porter wrote that? You think his English is that good?’
‘I don’t know,’ Slater admitted. ‘I have no fucking idea what’s going on. Care to enlighten me?’
‘I’m just as much in the dark as you. I don’t know why Perry’s doing it, or how he’s working with all these people, but it’s him. I think he needed to string the porter along as a guide with knowledge of the region until he could meet with the Maoists and wave money in their faces.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense if you think about it for longer than five minutes.’
‘None of this makes any sense,’ King sighed.
‘Are you going to do it?’
‘I think so.’
‘You’ll die.’
‘That’s always been a risk. Figured nothing would change on this trip either.’
‘I’m telling you not to.’
‘And I’m refusing to listen to you. What other chance are we going to get to resolve this?’
‘You’re being boneheaded,’ Slater said. ‘You’re really going to do exactly what they ask?’
‘I have to. And I have to do it alone. You can’t even get out of bed.’
‘And I’m not going to try to. You know why? Because I can accept when shit’s hit the fan. You can’t seem to.’
‘They don’t know who we are.’
‘What?’
‘They know we’re operatives, and I’m sure they’re assuming we’re elite. But they don’t know the details. Even if it’s Perry — he’s still just a bodyguard. He wouldn’t know about any of it — the history of Black Force, the genetic reflexes, what we’ve collectively been through. I can still get the jump on them. I’m sure of it.’
Slater practically rolled his eyes. ‘Call your girlfriend, then. Tell her what you just told me. See how she reacts.’
‘I’m going to do it regardless of what she says.’
‘Leave now, then. Take them by surprise.’
‘No,’ King hissed. ‘Don’t you understand why this needs to play out the way they want?’
‘Maybe I’m slipping,’ Slater muttered, adjusting himself in bed. ‘Maybe I’m missing the point. To me it all sounds insane.’
‘The
y’re telling the truth about having the terrain advantage. It’d only take a couple of sentries scattered about to see me coming from miles away. That’s the advantage of a peak. There’s only one way to get to it. If neither of us do this, they’ll get angry, and she’ll probably die. I need to play along and hope like hell that my reflexes hold up to the test when it’s time to go for the draw.’
‘And if they strip you of all weapons before they let you meet with whoever’s orchestrating this?’
‘Then I’ll just have to shoot it out when they try to take my gun off me.’
‘Let’s see how I am in the morning,’ Slater mumbled. ‘I might be able to join you.’
King stared at him. ‘No. You won’t.’
Slater made to respond, but didn’t.
He just quietly nodded his agreement.
Then he drifted into an uneasy sleep.
King stayed perched on the edge of the bed, struggling to muster the courage to call Violetta back.
Then she called.
He stepped outside, picked it up and said, ‘I’m going tomorrow morning. I don’t care what my orders are. That’s what I’m doing.’
61
Slater didn’t dream.
He entered a sleep so deep and undisturbed that when he finally came out of it he thought, That’s what it might feel like to die. It took him minutes to worm his way out of the fogginess. He rolled onto his side — painfully, laboriously.
King was watching him.
Clearly concerned.
Slater mumbled, ‘What time is it?’
‘Nearly midnight.’
‘Have you slept?’
‘Not yet.’
‘You need to.’
‘You need it more.’
Slater figured he’d give himself a test. He sat up, and his muscles throbbed. It took everything he had just to lever his torso off the mattress. He put his feet on the floor, rocked back and forth a couple of times, and stood up.
His heart rate shot through the roof.
He could feel it smashing against his chest wall, pumping two times a second, then three. Somewhere close to 180bpm.
At his age, practically his max heart rate.