freight-train momentum. They muttered about him and there seemed no doubt in
their minds that he had deliberately sabotaged their morale. Some went so far as to
accuse him of setting them up for failure and humiliation, conjecturing that he must
have hoped the team would just throw in the towel without this last effort. But they
were wrong. Li wanted them up here. On the very eve of their summit assault, they
learned why.
The six o'clock radio call opened routinely. Abe was sitting hunched in the tent with
the cold walkie-talkie in his hands. Kelly was lying behind him in a sleeping bag, most
of her face obscured by an oxygen mask. From here on they would be sleeping on
oxygen, and anyone who wanted to could climb on it, too. His last time here in the
cave with Daniel and Gus, Abe had been so weak and hurt that no amount of oxygen
would have gotten him higher. This time, the oxygen was like a kiss.
In preparation for the radio call, Abe had taken his mask off and poked the antennae
through an unzipped triangle at the top of the door. The cave's position was such that
he could be relatively warm and comfortable inside the tent and receive transmissions
from anywhere on the mountain.
'Five to all camps. It's time for the six o'clock news,' Abe heard. It was Stump's
voice. 'Let's get a head count. Over.'
Each of the teams checked in. Everyone was doing fine. Everyone sounded tired and
excited, especially Stump. 'It's going to be a long night,' he said. 'We got a crowd. Four
people, one tent, over.' His words came slowly, blurring on the edges from the
extreme altitude.
'At least you're snug and warm. Over.' Robby was handling the radio at Three.
Count on him to find the silver lining.
'How's your wind up there, Five? Over.' To his credit, Jorgens had set aside his
wounded pride. He earnestly wanted Daniel and anyone else to reach the top. Abe was
starting to like the man.
'The wind's stiff,' Stump answered. 'I hope something's not blowing in tonight. Over.'
Protected by the cave, Four was unaffected. But Abe could hear the wind blasting
the face. It sounded like Niagara Falls out there.
'How about the tripod?' Robby asked. 'Did you see the top? Over.'
'It's there,' Stump answered. 'We'll hang a flag from it. That's tomorrow, folks.
ASAP. Over.'
'Go team. Over.'
Abe waited for a break in the chatter. 'Any medical problems up or down? Over.'
The climbers knew better than to complain about hangnails. No one was healthy,
but no one was dying either.
Jorgens returned to the air. He wanted to clarify the assault plan and work out any
bugs before the high team committed itself. 'You guys are all synchronized? Over,' he
asked Stump.
Stump didn't mind the repetition. It was good to have some oversight, especially
from someone at a lower altitude. 'We're synced up,' he said. 'We'll wake at
oh-one-hundred. I doubt anyone sleeps anyway. Over.'
'And you'll be out the door by oh-three-hundred. Over.' Jorgens was going to walk
them through the whole thing.
'Roger that. Over.' Radio time was one of the few occasions for the two ex-soldiers to
trot out the patois without getting teased by the other climbers. Abe listened.
'Two ropes? Over.' It was like an aviator's checklist.
'Two ropes. Two bottles per man. Over.' There would be two teams of two, each
linked by a fifty-meter rope of nine-mil. Each climber would start off with two bottles
of oxygen. They would discard the twelve-pound cylinders, once emptied. According
to their best calculations, two bottles would last a climber all the way to the top and
partway down again.
'And if you haven't topped out by sixteen-hundred, you will turn around. Over.' This
one wasn't a question. By mutual agreement, they had decided that if the summiteers
couldn't finish by four o'clock in the afternoon, then they had failed. By that time they
would have been climbing for thirteen hours. To push any longer would only increase
their risk of not getting back to the tent at Five. And a night outdoors above 28,000
feet – especially in a wind like this one – meant certain death. The wind-chill factor
combined with their oxygen deficit would terminate their ambitions for good.
'Sixteen-hundred, turn around,' Stump verified. 'Over.' Like bankers' clockwork,
Abe thought. They were going to beat this extreme chaos with their extreme order.
Just then Base Camp broke in on the conversation. It was Carlos. He sounded very
frightened, which was odd since he was on flat ground and the safest of any of them.
'Base to the mountain. To anybody. Can anybody hear me? Over.'
'Five to Base, we read you, over.'
'Something's going on here. Something bad.'
Stump answered. 'Clarify yourself, Base. Over.' He was annoyed that Carlos had
forgotten to say 'over,' and it was clear he didn't appreciate the note of urgency. In
just a few hours the summit team was going to head off into the night. They needed
support, not last-minute problems from the abyss.
'It's the monk.'
Abe's breath went out of him.
'They've got him.'
'One to Five. What's going on up there, Stump? Over.' Down at One, Jorgens was
not in line of sight with Base Camp. Between him and Carlos lay the satellite peak
Changtse, which cast a sonic shadow. The rest of the camps sat higher than Changtse's
blunt summit and so their communications with Base were unrestricted. He couldn't
hear Carlos. At best he could only deduce that Stump was talking to someone at Base.
Stump took a moment to respond. 'Please hold, One. And Base, tell me more. Over.'
'It happened this afternoon. Li comes up to me. He says we've been harboring a
fugitive. But now they know and they've taken the prisoner into custody. And they
have. I saw him.'
'Damn it, Carlos. Say over. Over.' Stump was upset, but Abe knew it wasn't by the
breach in radio etiquette.
'They took him out to the Tomb. The soldiers and him. He's hog-tied, hand and foot.'
Carlos added, 'Over.'
'What do they plan on doing with him? Over.'
'The soldiers are going to return him to Lhasa. Li said the monk is a state criminal.
He said this is an internal affair of the People's Republic of China. Our interference is a
serious breach of international law. Over.'
Abe couldn't contain himself any longer. 'Internal affair?' he barked into the radio.
This was his patient, a boy, a holy man. And the last time the Chinese had him in their
possession they'd tortured him half to death.
'Is that you, Doc?' Carlos asked.
'When are they taking him off to Lhasa?' Abe asked. He remembered to say, 'Over.'
'Li said maybe tomorrow, probably the day after tomorrow. He wants to finish
making out his report.'
'One, here,' Jorgens interrupted. 'What are you people jabbering about? It doesn't
sound like mission talk. Over.'
'Bad luck,' Stump told him. 'Li sniffed the kid out. Things are unwinding down at
Base. Over.'
Jorgens didn't sound surprised. His irritation was immediately replaced by a tone of
calm succor. 'I was afraid of something like this,' he said quietly. 'The way I saw it,
nothing would happen
until after we were finished and gone. But I missed my guess.
Over.'
The one person who didn't hear him was Carlos, who now asked the question
Jorgens had just answered. 'It's worse than bad luck,' Carlos said to Stump. 'Li said we
got the green light to summit because somebody cooperated with him. The summit is
our reward for turning the kid in.'
The ugly charge hung in the air like the smell of sulphur after a lightning strike.
Robby came on. 'I don't believe that.'
'None of us would have done that,' Stump declared.
'That's what Li told me,' said Carlos. 'But he wouldn't tell me who.'
Abe looked over the shoulder of his blood red parka. Kelly's eyes were huge in the
lamplight.
'Look,' Jorgens exhorted the climbers in their precarious camps upon the mountain.
He turned on his basso profundo, smooth and polished, the one he used to address the
American Alpine Club. 'These Chinese will say it's none of our business, they always
do. And they're right. It's none of our business. The boy took his chances. He should
never have come waltzing into camp when their soldiers were there. The important
thing is for us to keep our eye on the ball. Over.'
Everything about Jorgens repelled Abe. He was working them like some Texas
politician, and he'd just betrayed them all.
'They'll kill the boy,' Abe declared as flatly as he could. It was a fact, like the stone in
this cave's walls. His anger would only make it seem negotiable, and it wasn't. 'I've
seen what they do.'
'We can't stop that,' Jorgens replied. 'We're up here. They're down there. It was a
matter of time before they found out. And besides, we're tourists. You people said so
yourselves. Tourists and climbers. Not saviors. Over.'
'Maybe not saviors,' Robby said. 'But not traitors, either.'
'Pete,' Stump said to Jorgens. If grimness had a voice, his was it. 'Carlos tells us that
Li didn't just find out. He was informed. Someone traded the kid for our summit.' He
didn't ask for a confession. He didn't have to. Jorgens knew what he meant.
Abe strained to hear Jorgens's answer. He couldn't distinguish between the blood
roaring through his head and the wind outside.
'Damn you, Stump,' Jorgens murmured. The two men had climbed many mountains
together, never with trouble like this. Bitterly, Jorgens surrendered the transmission
to their static.
'This is a serious matter, Pete. And you were the last to talk to Li. Over.'
Jorgens let it dangle.
Robby broke in again. He was dependably their good-time man, the one who, with a
word, could breach their deadly mood and finesse this disaster. 'Motherfucker,' was all
he had to say, and there was no mistaking who it was aimed at.
Down at Base, Carlos pieced together their judgement. 'You're not saying it was the
captain, are you?'
The damnation of Jorgens could take all night, Abe thought. They were losing sight
of the victim. Someone had to get this back on track and quickly.
'Carlos, can you talk to Li?' Abe asked. 'Tonight. Before he sends the boy off. Over.'
'Negative. I tried,' said Carlos. He sounded more weary than they were, and he was
two miles lower. 'Li's got his hackles up. He's acting real funny, like we're in deep shit.
He'll mention our cooperation in his report, but we're no longer being escorted to the
border. We're getting deported, folks.'
'But he can't do that,' Robby said, shocked. 'We didn't do anything.'
'Who can't do what?' Jorgens demanded.
'Li's declared us persona non grata,' Stump relayed. 'The Chinese are deporting us.
Over.'
'For God's sake,' Jorgens said. 'What's going on down there at Base? Handle this
thing, Stump. Over.'
Stump thought it over. 'Base, can you stall Li?' he asked. 'Two or three more days.
We can finish our business up here and come down and finish our business with him.
Over.'
'No chance.' There was a long burst of static, then Carlos broke through again. He
sounded defeated, as if the group had let him down. Obviously they had no solutions
he hadn't already thought of and discarded. 'Li knows us, guys. He told me it's very
unfortunate. He's sad that we chose the wrong mascot. As far as he's concerned, this is
kind of like putting the family pet down. You wait until the children take off for
summer camp and when they come back, Rover's already gone to heaven. Li doesn't
want any trouble. This way everybody gets what they want. We bag our summit.
They bag their desperado. Just to show us what a stand-up guy he is, Li asked me to
convey his best wishes for our climb. He said we've earned it.'
Abe felt sick.
Finally Stump returned to the air.
'Well that's that, people. The kid's gone.' His voice had grown weak. This was
supposed to have been a quick radio call, a few last words to help levitate the high
team to the top. Instead they had been handed this terrible news, and in the process
had just whittled their battery power down to a splinter on a human rights debate.
Worse, and once again, all their forward momentum had been sapped.
'I lost a friend on a big mountain once,' Stump continued. 'And when it happened, we
quit the mountain. On the spot, right then and there. We just quit. It seemed like the
right thing. We can do that here, I guess. Over.' Abe took a moment to realize Stump
No one spoke for a long time after that. Each camp listened to the radio plasma and
Abe thought how the very stars were bombarding them with radiation, a steady
crackling assault. Between the wind and the turning of cosmic machinery, their defeat
seemed inevitable. Part of him accepted the end, theirs and the monk's. Part of him
rebelled.
Then Gus came on the radio. Stump had relinquished the walkie-talkie to her,
probably gladly.
'I've lost people in the mountains, too.' In different circumstances she would have
sounded monstrous with her throat infection and the raging static. But tonight, given
the monk's certain fate, her hoarse grating seemed to ring with grief. 'But we didn't
quit. And that seemed like the right thing, too.'
Suddenly Abe wished Daniel would take the radio and speak. He wanted to hear
what the man was thinking as these people described their losses. But Abe couldn't
make out his own thoughts. He'd probably seen more death in the hills than all of
them combined. He'd become a virtual undertaker to the luckless and star-crossed.
The Chinese weren't going to leave him a body to take under, though. There was
nothing to scoop this time, nothing to carry out in the litter.
Gus gave the other camps a chance to register their opinions. When none did, she
spoke into their silence. 'I've lived my life in the mountains. It's a hard way to go. But
I never quit, okay? Out here – Tibet, the Hill – there's nothing between us and our
choices. No buffer. No excuses. That's just how it is. And the monk made his choice.
And we made ours.'
In the background, Stump told her to say Over. Gus didn't bother. No one else
wanted air time anyway.
Their silence stretched on, though for no good reason. They had their minds made
up, every one of them. Even Abe. They had spe
nt major portions of their lives getting
this close to the highest summit.
'It's settled then,' Stump concluded. 'We go. God speed us all. Over and out.'
10
Abe woke to D day with Christmas morning zeal.
'Kelly,' he croaked. His larynx was rusted shut with strep and he felt badly depleted.
The oxygen had not proved to be a magic bullet after all. He recalled Robby's
prescription for summiting. Quick penetration. Quick up, quick down. Abe cobbled
together his resolve. Today was the day they toppled the Hill. First Daniel, then all the
rest, a stream of barbarians, today they began crashing the breach. Abe palmed his
oxygen mask away. 'Kelly, are you awake?'
Her back was pressed tight against his, but her voice came from a great distance.
'You slept?' she said. Vaguely, as if from a long time ago, Abe recalled her dream of
death. It was a moot point. They were much too close to the summit for dreaming.
Abe sat up, still cocooned in his bag. His head brushed the tent wall and hoarfrost
rained down. From inside his bag, he switched on his headlamp. The whole interior of
the tent sparkled with their crystallized breath.
'The weather's let up,' Abe said. 'It's quiet. The wind's stopped.' There was a
peculiar humming sound, but Abe figured that was just high altitude tinnitus. He was
learning you could hear illusions as well as see them.
'What time is it?' Kelly rasped. It was dark enough to be night.
Extricating his arm from the loose clothing and the radio and gas cartridges and
headlamp batteries nested inside his sleeping bag to keep them warm, Abe poked his
wrist from the neck of the bag. 'Six-thirty.'
That meant Daniel and Gus and Stump and J.J. had been climbing for over three
hours. By now they should have punched through the Yellow Band, and judging by the
silence outside, there was nothing more to keep them from the top. The Ultimate
Summit was about to penetrate this purgatory all the way through the sky.
Abe cooked them a hasty breakfast of last night's leftovers – Top Ramen boosted up
with salami slices, raisins, and Tabasco sauce. While the icy block of food thawed over
a flame, he made the seven o'clock radio call. It was very brief. The camps compared
notes on the night's passage and the weather. The lower camps reported extremely
high winds, but everyone took heart when Abe said the air was as still as June in