Contracts

by Matt Rogers

  He sat back down, collapsing on the bed. Lowered his head back to the pillow and tried to breathe as deeply as possible. When his heart settled, he said, ‘I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘I can see that,’ King said.

  ‘My chest…’

  ‘I know. I was watching the vein in your neck. Counting the beats per minute. You’re not in good shape.’

  ‘To say the least.’

  ‘You’ll be okay,’ King said. ‘Your muscles aren’t getting enough oxygen. You just need to stop moving for a day or so, and then get to a lower altitude.’

  ‘You’re twenty pounds heavier than me. Why aren’t you in this state too?’

  ‘It’s genetic. Can happen to anyone. Be grateful you don’t have any of the other altitude symptoms.’

  ‘So you’re still going through with this?’

  ‘I have to. It’s the only way it ends.’

  ‘It could end with you helping me back down the mountain. It could end with us both living to fight another day.’

  ‘There’s no difference between that outcome and giving up.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be giving up. It would be making the tactical decision.’

  ‘The right tactical decision is to make that climb. Sure, they want me tired, but don’t think they’re not feeling it too. They could go anywhere from here if we retreat. It wouldn’t take much for them to bunker down somewhere along the Cho-La Pass. Then they can negotiate for as long as they want. No-one’s mounting an effective rescue operation at that altitude. They know we’re down here, so they came up with a plan to get us where they want us, but it’s not smart for them. This is my chance to capitalise on that.’

  ‘It’s not smart.’

  ‘Nothing in this game is.’

  ‘And what do I do when you’re gone? Lie here and hope I don’t get shot?’

  ‘Point your weapon at that door for eight hours and wait for me to come back. You don’t even have to move.’

  ‘You don’t get it,’ Slater said. ‘I can’t move. Even if my life depended on it. My heart would explode if I tried to muscle my way out of here. If you leave, I’m a sitting duck.’

  ‘They promised they wouldn’t come for us. I believe them. They think we’re valuable. They think we’re their chance to negotiate.’

  ‘And what will happen when they see you heading up Gokyo Ri alone?’

  King didn’t answer.

  ‘Well?’ Slater said.

  ‘Then you need to be ready.’

  ‘No shit.’

  ‘I’ll help you switch rooms tomorrow morning,’ King said. ‘The owner knows we’re in 105. That’ll delay them, at least.’

  ‘Not for long.’

  ‘You can play hide and seek for eight hours,’ King said. ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘And if I’m caught?’

  ‘Then shoot them.’

  Slater raised his arms in disbelief — it took all the effort he could muster. He said, ‘What can I honestly do like this?’

  King said, ‘You need to do this for me. It’s our only chance to pull this off.’

  ‘Your only chance.’

  ‘We operated alone for the majority of our careers,’ King said. ‘It can’t be that hard to do it again.’

  ‘For you, maybe. In case you didn’t notice, I can’t move.’

  ‘We’re going around in circles,’ King said. ‘Sit in bed, point your gun at the door, and don’t move until I get back.’

  Slater lay still.

  King said, ‘I need sleep.’

  ‘Go for it.’

  King rolled over, nestled into his sleeping bag, and fell quiet.

  In the darkness, Slater muttered, ‘And what if you don’t come back?’

  62

  Morning arrived unceremoniously.

  There hadn’t been a peep of hostility overnight. King woke up at four in the morning as his alarm went off, and within seconds he was fully alert. He sat up and rubbed his ankle — the swelling had reduced. He didn’t know whether to take that as a positive or not.

  In all likelihood, it would only mean he’d arrive at death’s door faster.

  There was no natural light coming in through the windows. The landscape outside was dark and silent. Most trekkers rose at five a.m. to get the ascent started — King was up and moving well before they’d stirred from their slumber.

  He dressed in fresh hiking gear, double-checked that his P320 had a full clip, and inserted the magazine back into the weapon. Then he gave himself the once-over.

  This is it, he thought.

  When he turned around, Slater was wide awake, watching him.

  King said, ‘Are you any better?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let’s get you up. I’ll find you an empty room.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Slater said. ‘It’s pointless.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Didn’t you see the rooms when we arrived yesterday? The empty ones are bolted shut. You’d need to rob the owner at gunpoint, and then he’d know which key he was giving you anyway. It’s futile.’

  King thought about it. ‘I could put you in the—’

  ‘Anywhere else you put me inflates the risk of civilian casualties,’ Slater interrupted. ‘That’s not what we came here to do.’

  King chewed his bottom lip in consideration, but he was exhausted. He had few alternatives to offer. He knew he wasn’t at the same level as Slater, but their mammoth journey had fatigued him all the same. His body was weary, his mind was considerably dull, and he couldn’t think of a better idea.

  He said, ‘You sure?’

  ‘No. But I doubt you’re sure about hiking up Gokyo Ri either. This was never going to be ideal for either of us.’

  King said, ‘This better not be the last time I see you.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. You said it yourself — all I’ve got to do is point my gun at the door. Your part’s a little trickier.’

  ‘So if this is the last time we see each other…?’

  ‘Then that’s the job.’

  King nodded. ‘That’s the job.’

  ‘Go get it done.’

  ‘I need you in somewhat decent condition if I make it back with Raya.’

  ‘“If?” You will.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘When have you failed?’

  ‘Plenty of times.’

  ‘But when has it killed you?’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

  Neither of them knew what to say. One thing was for sure — they hadn’t anticipated this level of suffering. They thought they’d known exhaustion, until true exhaustion hit them in the face. King shrugged off his own worries and anxieties and managed a nod of farewell.

  There was nothing left to say. They each knew what they had to do. It wouldn’t be easy for either of them. King had an uneasy suspicion that the insurgents would come for Slater as soon as he was spotted on his own at the base of Gokyo Ri. Wipe out one of the American operatives, and force the other into negotiations.

  All the better if they got him alive, too.

  More bargaining power.

  King stepped out of room 105 and made his way outside. The stars were incredible, a glittering canopy that gave the landscape a touch of silvery illumination. He saw the vast mass of Gokyo Ri literally dwarfing the village, and checked he had all the supplies he needed in the rucksack slung over one shoulder — a full water bottle, anti-flash glasses, and four spare magazines for the Sig Sauer. The P320 was at his waist, ready for instant use.

  Other than that, it was up to the three pounds of grey matter between his ears to get the job done.

  Which is what it always came down to. Thankfully, he’d been honing his brain for most of his life.

  So he got started. He used a manmade path of rocks to traverse a glacial stream, and then it was a long flat slog to the base of Gokyo Ri. He reached the foot of the climb, took one deep breath to steel himself for what was to c
ome, and hardened his mind as he took the first step.

  Then he began to ascend.

  It proved monotonous enough. It was steeper than anything he and Slater had covered so far in Nepal, and the storm from the previous day had left a thin coating of snow over the trail, leading to a muddy, sloshy journey, but he managed well enough. He wasn’t so much concentrating on the climb as he was on what he’d find when he reached the top. It wasn’t difficult to keep his pace consistent and his breathing measured, and all he had to focus on was making sure not to burn himself out before he reached the peak.

  He quickly realised it would be a long, gruelling climb.

  He had five hundred metres to ascend vertically. Nearly a quarter of the way through the climb, blue daylight crept into the edges of the surrounding mountain ranges, giving him a better view of what was underfoot. He’d slipped a couple of times, but his ankle was sturdier by the day, and it was holding up.

  He paused to fetch his bottle and take a few gulps of water, and when he craned his neck to stare up at the peak, he thought he saw something.

  Hundreds of feet above.

  The barely visible outline of a silhouette, already at the top of Gokyo Ri, staring down.

  Observing.

  King watched it for a few seconds, trying to take in as many details as he could.

  It was futile.

  A moment later, the silhouette vanished from sight.

  Overwhelmed by dread, he continued onward.

  63

  There was a flurry of activity in the rooms at five a.m., almost an hour after King left.

  Slater heard a faint cacophony of alarms go off within the same minute, as each smartphone struck five on the dot. There were the sounds of feet shuffling, and zips gliding up jackets, and trekking poles touching the ground. Then doors opened and hikers grumbled quiet greetings to each other as they bled out into the main corridor, heading to the other building for breakfast and tea before the day’s climb.

  He listened without moving, keeping the Sig Sauer in a tight grip. When the last of the Gokyo Ri trekkers vacated the premises, the building returned to silence.

  Slater kept his eyes fixed on the door, and did his best to focus on recovery.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what he was trying to achieve. He knew descending the mountain was all that would help. It would take weeks for his body to adapt to this altitude, and he had mere hours before shit was bound to hit the fan one way or the other.

  Either King wouldn’t return and he’d be left to fend for himself, or King would return with Raya in tow and a pissed-off Maoist splinter group hot on his heels.

  The cold never let up, leeching through the thin walls and chilling him to the bone. He dragged the sleeping bag over himself, but didn’t dare get inside. Even though his body was on the verge of total shutdown, he knew there’d be some final morsel of energy locked away that he could access when his life depended on it. He didn’t want to use it up struggling to get out of a sleeping bag.

  So he lay there and shivered and focused on his breathing and watched the door and tried not to get tired.

  Minutes blurred into hours, and he lost all sense of time. He refused to check his phone — it would only make the time pass slower. Light steadily bled in through the frosted window pane as the sun rose behind the distant mountains. Now he could see the breath clouding in front of his face on each exhale, which somehow only made him colder. It was the inevitability of hyperintention — draw your attention to something, and it only makes it worse. He could see the physical effect of the cold in his breath, and it only served to chill him to the core.

  His teeth started chattering when there was a knock at the door.

  He nearly leapt out of his skin.

  He listened hard. He hadn’t heard anyone approaching. Whoever was out there was making a deliberate effort to keep quiet. But it couldn’t be the insurgents. Not if they wanted him dead. They’d simply kick the door in and come through the window simultaneously. Hit the room from all angles, and there’s no way he’d survive the onslaught.

  Slater angled the Sig toward the door, squaring up the barrel with its centre. He kept the sleeping bag draped over his mid-section, but the material wouldn’t affect the bullet’s trajectory at all.

  He said, ‘Come in.’

  He’d left the door unlocked. It’d take all his effort just to cross the room, so he’d elected to allow ease of access in case someone showed up to enquire about anything banal.

  The door swung open.

  It was the man who’d checked them in the previous day.

  His hands were bare.

  But Slater kept the gun angled at his chest all the same.

  The guy couldn’t see it, obviously. The gun was covered by the sleeping bag. But if he tried anything hostile at all, Slater would put a bullet in his heart.

  Slater said, ‘What do you want?’

  The man looked sheepish. ‘You are still here.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sick.’

  ‘Your friend…?’

  ‘He went on ahead.’

  A pause, and then, ‘To where?’

  ‘You know where.’

  The owner bowed his head. ‘I cannot pretend I do not know. You could tell … when I checked you both in.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ’They said they would kill my family.’

  ‘I know. You’re not the first person they threatened.’

  ‘I had to do what they say.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘Are you here to kill me?’

  The owner shook his head.

  ‘Are you here to talk?’

  ‘I saw your friend leave an hour ago. I thought you stay. Had to make sure.’

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Give you option to kill me.’

  Slater paused. ‘What?’

  ‘They tell me to call and give them information when you or your friend leave. I have delayed long enough. If I do not tell them, they carry out their promise. I know these people. Very bad people. They hurt my children if I do not do what they say.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘To give you warning. To tell you to run. I do not want you to die.’

  ‘I can’t run,’ Slater said. ‘I can’t even move. So it looks like I’m staying right here.’

  ‘They hurt me and my family if I do not call.’

  ‘Then call.’

  ‘You can kill me,’ the owner said. ‘If you want. I have … dishonoured you. You are guest here, and I put your life in danger. This is not something you forgive.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Slater said. ‘Call them.’

  ‘I know you have gun under there. You shoot me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because this isn’t your fault, and you’re backed up against a wall with no way out. I don’t blame you. Make the call.’

  The owner thought about it for a long time. He said, ‘I respect you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Then the man thought about it some more. ‘Give me your key.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I give you one for empty room, and replace it. Then I tell them you staying in that room. It look like I’m telling truth because that is only key I give out. You understand?’

  Slater half-smiled. ‘Yeah, I understand. You’d do that?’

  The owner fished a key out of his pocket and threw it over.

  The digits 108 were inscribed into it.

  ‘Maybe this buy you some time,’ the owner said. ‘Maybe this mean you live.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Do you hate me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good luck, sir,’ the man said. ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘I leave you now.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Can I bring you food and drink? Before … everything happen?’

  Slater thought about it. ‘Su
re.’

  He tossed the 105 key over, leaving his life in the owner’s hands.

  64

  It took King two hours to summit Gokyo Ri.

  He covered the last half like a walking zombie, dragging his feet with every step. He’d underestimated the severity of the slope. It was steeper than any terrain he’d covered before. If he was in good shape at the bottom, he would have breezed through it, but the miles he’d clocked up over the last few days were finally taking their toll. He reached the archway of multi-coloured prayer flags at the peak in a sweaty, breathless heap.

  Despite everything, he took time to admire the view. He was the first trekker on the peak, and a single glance down the mountain showed the next group behind him were at least an hour from the top. He checked briefly for any sign of hostiles, but there was little point. If they wanted him dead, they’d potshot him from a distance. He was putting blind faith in them to stick to their word, at least until he could meet with them face-to-face.

  So there was no harm in soaking in one of the most incredible views he’d ever laid eyes on.

  He spotted Everest to the east. It was further away than most of the mountains in sight, but it still dwarfed them. It was something to behold. Below he could make out the village of Gokyo, just a speck in front of a glacier that was at least twenty miles in length. To the south-west he saw the Renjo-La Pass in all its beauty, consisting of endless snowy mountains twisting and turning in every direction. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and by now the sun had risen over the mountain ranges, coating everything in a golden hue.

  Still spectacular, despite the circumstances.

  He knew the kidnappers and their rebel buddies were residing somewhere to the north. It was the only side of Gokyo Ri that wasn’t home to a sheer descent down the mountainside. Instead, the peak declined maybe fifty feet into a natural bowl in the landscape, covered entirely in snow and surrounded by peaks. The terrain was visibly treacherous and there was no clear path leading down there. Gokyo Ri was meant to be climbed and descended via the one path. There was no room to be trekking around the unstable north side that led further into the mountains.

  King would have to figure out his own way down.