“I have indeed, but the rest of the committee has not, and I suspect they might find Mr. Finch’s answers to my questions illuminating. Mr. Finch,” said Young, turning to face the candidate, “have you ever climbed Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in Europe?”
“On seven occasions,” replied Finch.
“And the Matterhorn?”
“Three times.”
“And any of the other major peaks in the Alps?”
“All of them. I climb in the Alps every year.”
“And what about the highest mountains in the British Isles?”
“I gave them up before I was out of short trousers.”
“This is all on the record, Mr. Chairman,” said Hinks.
“For those who’ve taken the trouble to read it,” retorted Young, un-perturbed. “Can I confirm, Mr. Finch, that after completing your education in Geneva, you took up a place as an undergraduate at Imperial College, London?”
“That is correct,” confirmed Finch.
“And what subject did you read?”
“Chemistry,” replied Finch, having decided to play along with Young’s little ruse.
“What class of degree did that august establishment award you?”
“A first-class honors degree,” said Finch, smiling for the first time.
“And did you remain at London University after you had graduated?” asked Young.
“Yes, I did,” said Finch. “I joined the staff as a lecturer in chemistry.”
“And did you remain in that position after the war broke out, Mr. Finch, or did you, like Mr. Mallory, enlist in the armed forces?”
“I enlisted in the army in August 1914, a few days after war was declared.”
“And in which branch of the army did you serve?” asked Young.
“As a chemist,” replied Finch, looking directly at Ashcroft, “I felt my expertise could be put to good use by volunteering for the bomb disposal squad.”
“Bomb disposal squad,” said Young, emphasizing all three words. “Can you elaborate?”
“Certainly, Mr. Young. The War Office was looking for men to defuse unexploded bombs. Quite fun really.”
“So you never saw action on the front line?” said Hinks.
“No, Mr. Hinks, I did not. I found that German bombs had a tendency to fall on our side of the line, not theirs.”
“And were you ever decorated?” asked Hinks, leafing through his notes.
Young smiled. The first mistake Hinks had made.
“I was awarded the MBE,” said Finch matter-of-factly.
“Good show,” said Bruce. “That’s not something they give out with the rations.”
“I see no mention of this decoration in your records,” blustered Hinks, trying to recover.
“Perhaps that’s because I didn’t feel one’s place of birth, educational qualifications, and marital status had much to do with attempting to climb the highest mountain on earth.”
Hinks was silenced for the first time.
“Well, if there are no more questions,” said Sir Francis, “allow me to thank Mr. Finch for attending this meeting.” He hesitated before adding, “Someone will be in touch with you in the near future.”
Finch rose from his place, nodded to Young, and was just about to leave when Hinks said, “Just one more question. Can I confirm that, like Mr. Mallory, you would be willing to undergo a medical examination?”
“Of course I would,” said Finch, and left the room without another word.
“Rum sort of fellow, don’t you think?” said Raeburn once the porter had closed the door.
“But surely there can be no doubting his ability as an alpine climber,” said Young.
Hinks smiled. “No doubt you’re right, Young, but we at the RGS have always been wary of social climbers.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little rough, Hinks?” said Sir Francis. “Considering the chap’s war record.” Turning to Bruce, he asked, “You’ve led men into battle, General. What did you make of the fellow?”
“I’d prefer to have him on my side rather than the enemy’s, that’s for sure,” said Bruce. “Given a fair wind, I think I could knock him into shape.”
“What do we do next?” asked Sir Francis, turning back to Hinks for guidance.
“The members should now proceed to vote on their choice for climbing leader, Mr. Chairman. For the convenience of the committee I’ve had ballot papers prepared, on which members may place a cross beside the name of their preferred candidate.” Hinks handed a slip of paper to each member of the committee. “Once you’ve made your choice, please return your ballot papers to me.”
The process took only a few moments, and as Hinks counted the votes, a thin smile appeared on his face that grew wider every time he opened another ballot paper. He finally passed the result across to the chairman, so that he could officially announce the outcome.
“Five votes for Mallory. And there’s one abstention,” said Younghusband, unable to hide his surprise.
“It was me again,” announced Young.
“But you know both the candidates well,” said Sir Francis. “After all, it was you who placed their names in front of the committee.”
“Perhaps I know them too well,” replied Young. “They are both fine young men in their different ways, but after all these years I still can’t make up my mind which one of them is more likely to accomplish the feat of being the first man to stand on top of the world.”
“I am in no doubt which man I’d prefer to see representing this country,” said Hinks.
There were mutterings of “Hear, hear,” but not from all quarters.
“Any other business?” asked Younghusband.
“We should simply confirm for the official record,” said Hinks, “that now that we have appointed a climbing leader, we willingly accept nem. con. Mr. Young’s recommendations for the remaining eight places in the climbing team.”
“Yes, of course,” said Sir Francis. “After all, that is no more than I agreed with the Alpine Club prior to this committee being set up.”
“I hope,” remarked Ashcroft, “that not too many of them are cut from the same cloth as that fellow Finch.”
“No fear of that,” said Hinks, looking down at the list. “Apart from Finch, they’re all Oxford or Cambridge men.”
“Well, that must just about wrap it up,” said Sir Francis.
A smile returned to Hinks’s lips. “Mr. Chairman, there’s still the small matter of the medical examinations that all the prospective members of the climbing team have agreed to undergo. Presumably you’d like that to be out of the way before the committee reconvenes next month.”
“That makes sense to me,” said Sir Francis. “No doubt you will handle all the details, Mr. Hinks.”
“Of course, Mr. Chairman.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
HINKS SAT ALONE in his club, nursing a glass of brandy while he waited for his guest. He knew that Lampton wouldn’t be late, but he needed a little time to compose his thoughts before the good doctor arrived.
Lampton had carried out several delicate commissions for the RGS in the past, but his next undertaking would have to be handled most carefully if no one was to suspect Hinks of being personally involved. Hinks smiled as he recalled Machiavelli’s words, Once you know a man’s ambition, if you can assist it, he becomes beholden to you. He was well aware of one of Lampton’s ambitions.
Hinks rose from his seat as a porter led Dr. Lampton into the library. Once they’d settled in a secluded corner of the room and dispensed with the usual small talk, Hinks made his well-prepared opening.
“I see your name is up for membership of the club, Lampton,” he said as a waiter placed two glasses of brandy on the table between them.
“It is indeed, Mr. Hinks,” Lampton replied, nervously picking up and toying with his glass. “But then, who wouldn’t want to be a member of Boodle’s?”
“And you shall be a member, dear boy,” said Hinks. “In fact
I can tell you that I’ve added my name to your list of supporters.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hinks.”
“I think we can dispense with the Mr. After all, you’ll soon be a member of this club. Do call me Hinks.”
“Thank you, Hinks.”
Hinks glanced around the room, to check that he could not be overheard. “As you know, old boy, one of the club rules is that you can’t discuss business matters over dinner.”
“Damned fine rule,” said Lampton. “I only wish it applied at St. Thomas’s. I often feel like telling my colleagues that the last thing I want to talk about over lunch is what’s going on in the hospital.”
“Quite so,” said Hinks. “Mind you, the rule doesn’t apply here in the library, so let me tell you, in the strictest confidence, that the Society wishes to instruct you to carry out a most important piece of scientific research on its behalf. I must emphasize, this is in the strictest confidence.”
“You can rely on me, Hinks.”
“Excellent, but first a little background. You may have read in The Times that the Society is planning to send a select team of climbers to Tibet for the purpose of making an attempt on the summit of Mount Everest.”
“Good heavens.”
“Rather appropriate,” said Hinks, and both men laughed. “With that in mind, we would like to appoint you to conduct a series of tests on the twelve men who are under consideration for the nine places in that team. Clearly, the most important matter will be your professional opinion as to how well equipped they are to survive at an altitude of 29,000 feet.”
“Is that the height of Everest?”
“Twenty-nine thousand and two feet, to be exact,” said Hinks. “Now, of course it goes without saying that the RGS cannot risk sending a chap all that way if he’s going to break down the moment he reaches a certain altitude. That would be a waste of the Society’s time and money.”
“Quite so,” agreed Lampton. “How much time do I have to conduct these tests?”
“I have to report back to the committee in three weeks’ time,” said Hinks, removing a piece of paper from an inside pocket. “Here are the twelve names that have been put forward by the Alpine Club. Only nine of them will travel as part of the climbing team, so feel free to eliminate any three who fall short of the mark.” He passed the slip of paper to his guest so that he could study the names more carefully.
Lampton glanced at the list. “I see no reason why my report shouldn’t be on your desk within a fortnight. That’s assuming all the climbers will be available.”
“They’ll be available,” said Hinks. He paused and once again looked around the room. “I wonder, Lampton, if I may speak to you on a confidential matter?”
“Feel free to do so, old fellow.”
“You should know that the committee would not be displeased if you were to find that one particular applicant did not possess the physical attributes necessary for such a demanding expedition.”
“I fully understand,” said Lampton.
Hinks leaned across and placed a finger next to the second name on the list.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“…ONE HUNDRED AND twelve…one hundred and thirteen…one hundred and fourteen.” Finch finally collapsed on the ground. George kept going, but he only managed another seven press-ups before he also gave up: 121, a personal record. He lay flat on the floor, raised his head and grinned at Finch, who always managed to bring out the best in him. Or was it the worst?
Dr. Lampton made an entry on his clipboard of the totals achieved by each of the twelve men, and noted that Mallory and Finch had been in the top five for every test, with very little to choose between them. He was already beginning to wonder what possible reason he could come up with to disqualify Finch, who clearly only had one rival as the fittest member of the group.
Lampton stood in the center of the gymnasium and asked the twelve men to gather around him. “I congratulate all of you,” he said, “on having come through the first part of the test unscathed, which means that you’re qualified to enter my torture chamber.” They all laughed. Lampton wondered how many of them would be laughing in an hour’s time. “Please follow me, gentlemen,” he said, and led them down a long brick corridor until he came to an unmarked door. He unlocked it and stepped into a large, square room, the like of which George had never seen.
“Gentlemen,” said Lampton, “you are now standing in a decompression chamber that was commissioned by the Admiralty during the war to test submariners’ ability to endure long periods of time below the surface of the ocean. The chamber has been modified to reproduce the conditions we believe you are likely to encounter when climbing Everest.
“Let me tell you about some of the equipment you see before you. The moving staircase in the center of the room is not unlike those you will be familiar with from traveling on the London Underground.” One or two of those present were loath to admit they had never traveled on the Underground, and remained silent. “There is, however, one significant difference,” continued Lampton. “Our moving staircase is not intended to assist you; on the contrary, it is there to resist you. While it is moving downward, you will be climbing upward, a motion that will take you a few moments to become accustomed to. It is important to remember that this is not a race, but an endurance test. The staircase will move at approximately five miles an hour, and you will attempt to remain on it for sixty minutes.
“I can see from the expressions on one or two of your faces that you are beginning to wonder what all the fuss is about,” continued Lampton. “After all, it would not be uncommon for men of your experience and ability to climb for many hours without a break. However, there are one or two other things you will have to contend with during the next sixty minutes. The chamber is currently at room temperature, and its atmosphere is set to closely approximate that found at sea level. By the end of the hour, any of you who are still able to move at that pace will be experiencing the conditions they might expect to encounter at 29,000 feet, as the temperature in the room will have fallen to minus forty degrees. That is the reason I asked you to dress exactly as you would for a climb.
“I shall also be introducing another little challenge. If you look at the far wall, you will see two large industrial fans: my wind machines. And let me assure you, gentlemen, it will not be a following wind.” One or two of the twelve laughed nervously. “Once I set them in motion they will do everything in their power to blow you off the escalator.
“Finally, you will notice several rubber mats, blankets, and buckets placed around the room. Once you have been forced off the moving staircase, you will be able to rest and warm yourself. I’m sure I don’t have to explain why the buckets are placed by the bottom of the escalator.” This time no one laughed. “On the wall to your left are a clock, a gauge showing the temperature in the chamber, and an altimeter to indicate the atmospheric pressure. I will now give you a few moments to familiarize yourself with how the moving staircase works. I suggest that you position yourselves two steps apart. Should you find yourself having difficulty in maintaining your pace, move to the right and allow the man behind to overtake you. Are there any questions?”
“What’s on the other side of that window?” asked Norton, the only candidate George hadn’t come across before; a soldier who had been recommended by General Bruce.
“That’s where the control room is located. It’s from there that my staff will observe your progress. We can see you, but you can’t see us. When the hour is up, the escalator will come to a halt, the wind machines will be turned off, and the temperature will return to normal. At that point, you will be joined by several doctors and nurses who will carry out tests to assess your rate of recovery. Now, gentlemen, would you be so kind as to take your places on the escalator.”
Finch immediately ran up to the top step, while George took his place two steps below him, with Somervell a further two steps behind.
“The staircase will start to move the moment the buzzer sounds,”
said Lampton. “It will sound again ten minutes later, by which time the atmosphere in the chamber will be equivalent to that found at an altitude of 5,000 feet and the temperature will have fallen to zero. The buzzer will continue to sound at ten-minute intervals throughout the test. The wind machines will be turned on after forty minutes. If anyone is still on their feet at the end of one hour, they will, I repeat, be experiencing a temperature of minus forty degrees and the atmosphere found at 29,000 feet. Good luck, gentlemen.” Lampton left the room and closed the door behind him. They all heard a key turning in the lock.
The twelve men stood nervously on the staircase, waiting for the buzzer to sound. George took a deep breath through his nose, filling his lungs with air. He avoided looking at Finch, two steps above him, or at Somervell two steps below.
“Are you ready, gentlemen?” said the voice of Dr. Lampton over a loudspeaker. The buzzer sounded, and the staircase began to move at what seemed to George a fairly gentle pace. For ten minutes the twelve climbers all maintained their positions, and George didn’t sense much of a change when the buzzer sounded a second time. The staircase continued to move at the same speed, although the indicators on the wall showed that the temperature had fallen to zero and the atmospheric conditions were those of 5,000 feet.
Everyone was still in place after twenty minutes, when the buzzer sounded a third time. By thirty minutes they had reached 15,000 feet, and the temperature was ten degrees below zero. Still no one had fallen by the wayside. Kenwright was the first to take a step to the right, and slowly drift down past his colleagues before finally ending up at the foot of the staircase. He struggled gamely to reach the nearest mat, where he collapsed in a heap. It was some minutes before he had the strength even to pull a blanket over his body. Lampton drew a line through his name. He would not be part of the team traveling to Tibet.
Finch and Mallory were maintaining the pace at the top of the escalator, with Somervell, Bullock, and Odell on their heels. George had almost forgotten about the wind machines, until the buzzer sounded for the fifth time and a blast of cold air hit him in the face. He wanted to rub his eyes, but knew that if he removed his goggles on a real mountain at 29,000 feet, he risked snow blindness. He thought he saw Finch stumble in front of him, but he quickly recovered.
Paths of Glory Page 17
