by MK Schiller
“First, you go with an established climbing group.”
Tristan shook his head, his fingers twitching to grab the scrap of paper and dart out the door. “I’m going solo.”
“You’ll have a better chance with a group. There is safety in numbers.”
“Depends on the other numbers.” There was also a greater chance someone would fuck up. But Elliot, an experienced climber himself, already knew that.
“Of course, there are risks, but I think the pros outweigh the cons in this case. Just to be clear, I won’t concede on this. I’ve already spoken to someone on your behalf. His name is Ahmed Rana and he’s local. He has a solid reputation.”
“I know him. You already spoke to him?” It was odd to think Elliot had laid plans in motion for him. Then again, his uncle would have used the group idea to appease his father. Elliot was trying to create an alliance between father and son. He’d use whatever strategy and tools he could to achieve that end. He could hear the argument now. “Yes, it’s a dangerous climb, but at least he’s going with a group.” Elliot was an accomplished negotiator.
“I’m an executer. I don’t have time to dally so, yes, I spoke with him. He’s for you joining, but apparently there is a hold out in his group so you’ll have to do some convincing.”
“And if I don’t convince?”
“It’s a group or nothing.” Elliot wasn’t letting up.
“I doubt I’ll be successful. They don’t know me.”
“You’d be an asset to any group. You were voted Alpinist of the Year two years ago. Your resume opens doors. Use it. They will accept you once you state your case.” He made it sound like Tristan was asking to eat at the popular kids’ table at lunch. Elliot crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, signaling the conclusion of their debate.
Tristan saw the ink dry before he could raise any more objections. Even with a permit, the government checkpoint could still decline him with one phone call from Elliot. “I’ll do my best.”
Elliot nodded toward the bar. Ahmed Rana’s tall, lanky frame sat on a stool, watching the game. “There’s the man you’ll need to see. I trust you on this, son. I have no doubt you’ll honor your word to me just as you feel you’re honoring your word to Drew.”
“What are the other conditions?”
Elliot carefully placed the wooden chess pieces back inside the velvet-lined case. His uncle’s hand shook as he placed the last pieces in the box. Nerves? “I want you to go home after this. Your family needs you. You need them.”
At least that was easy. “It’s my plan anyway. I sold my business.”
Why?”
“I’m taking some time off after this.”
“Excellent. We’re in agreement on that point.” Elliot folded the latch down on the wooden box and stood. “Thank you for the gift. I will cherish it.”
This time the men embraced. “Good-bye, son. Godspeed.”
“Wait, Uncle Elliot,” Tristan called as the man was halfway to the exit.
He turned. “Yes?”
“Your third condition. You never told me what it was.”
Elliot smiled, but there was little joy in it. “I thought it was obvious. Don’t die.”
Chapter 4
Tristan had met Rana while leading an expedition across Annapurna. When he discovered the other climber was also making a run for K2, they’d gone out for coffee and exchanged a few stories.
“Assalaam-o-alaikum,” Tristan greeted, taking the seat next to him. He held the permit up, waiving it like a victory flag. He hoped it wouldn’t become a flag of surrender.
“Wa’alaikum salaam. Please, brother, speak English. Your pronunciation sucks.” Rana eyed the paper in Tristan’s hand. “I heard those fuckers finally gave you a permit.”
Those fuckers, as it turned out, was his godfather, but no reason to dole out those details. “Yeah, I got it.”
He snapped his fingers. The bartender put down two silver cups. “We have to celebrate.”
Tristan stared at the transparent liquid inside. The strong scent made it clear it was not H20. No way. Vodka. Vodka in a city where liquor was banished. “How?”
“It’s all about who you know, my friend.” Rana knocked his cup against Tristan’s. “Congrats man, hope you summit.”
“You too.” Both men swallowed back the strong liquor. Tristan hadn’t drunk in so long he almost winced. But he managed to swallow it down. It would not serve his purpose to look weak in any way. Rana would pick up on it. Man, moonshine and prohibition went hand in hand no matter where you lived. He slammed down his cup.
“So, word around the Shalimar is that you’re the only game this side of China.”
“That’s not true. The Russians are still here. There is a Korean group too.”
Tristan wondered if the strong liquor had diluted Rana’s brain cells. “We both know the Russians and Koreans won’t let an American in. Hell, you can’t even get a visa into their countries these days. I’ll pay you more than your going rate. I know that will appeal to you.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Simple. You need my money. Heard the freak storm around the bottleneck buried most of your equipment last year.”
“Is that what you heard?”
“It is. Also heard you had to finance heavily to replace it.”
“Your ears are sharp.”
“Always had a keen sense of hearing.”
“Perhaps your only keen sense.” Rana knocked on the bar twice. Two more rounds appeared before them. “Talking about a man’s debts is a great insult in this country.”
Tristan wasn’t deterred. Rana barked loudly, but the proposal would make sense to him. “So challenge me to a duel, but only after we summit K2.”
“Look, man, I’d love to do a favor to a member of the US embassy. But like I told your uncle, a member of our group vetoed you.”
“You can change their mind. Hell, we both know you could sell heating oil in hell if you wanted to.”
“I doubt it,” he said, but his smile was smug. He glanced at his watch. “It’s rather a ridiculous request anyway. I mean, seriously, we leave for Gilgit at 0800 hours. You’re trying to jump on a bus that’s already halfway down the road.”
“You don’t need to vet me. You know who I am. Let me talk to the holdout.”
“It’s not just that. I didn’t give your uncle all the details. This is going to be a difficult climb.”
Well, there was the understatement of the year. “Has the weather turned?” Tristan had checked the broadcasts that morning as was his habit, and the conditions were perfect. But every climber knew what made K2 such a challenge was the unpredictability in both terrain and climate.
“No, no, it’s still clear.”
“Then what?”
“We’re not going the Abrussi Spur. We’ll be using the Southwest Pillar.”
“The Magic Line?”
“The very one.”
Fuck, was he serious? There were a few routes up K2. The Magic Line was probably the most dangerous approach of them all. It had only been attempted a handful of times. The success rate of a summit on K2 was rare on its own, but traveling the Magic Line sliced those slim chances into the smallest percentages. Some climbers even referred to it as Suicide Pass.
“Why?”
“It was a group decision.”
“So they overruled you.”
“Actually, we all agreed. The traditional route has always proven unsuccessful for me. I’m ready to try something new.” Rana had summited some of the highest and most challenging peaks in the world, but being a native Pakistani, K2 was the jewel for him. He’d attempted it five times, resulting in a failed summit each instance, either due to weather shifts or injuries. Once he’d almost been buried by an avalanche. For Ahmed Rana, K2 might as well have been an elusi
ve whale named Moby.
Tristan considered tearing up the permit for all the good it was doing him, but he didn’t have the stamina or the funds for another delay. Climbing was a rich man’s sport. Most climbers were either self-funded wealthy men or they had plenty of endorsements. Although he’d been offered generous contracts, Tristan had no desire to use a certain company’s equipment or wear their logos to get sponsorships. He’d had a decent savings from the inheritance left by his grandfather. He’d been careful not to dip into it too heavily, living frugally and taking odd jobs in preparation for the next climb, until he’d finally settled in Nepal and opened his own trekking company. This business of climbing didn’t offer insurance and health benefits. There was no retirement package. Tristan’s father had warned he’d run through all his money and come home penniless. Those harsh words pushed him to be the exact opposite of his father’s prophesy. But a trip like this cost over a hundred grand, and he had just enough left for one more attempt…maybe two. It was now or never.
“I still want to go.”
“We’re doing most of this alpine style with very few fixed ropes. We’re not going to hire much in the way of help either. No Sherpas or high-altitude workers doing the heavy lifting for us.”
“I don’t have a problem with any of that. I’m not a stranger to hard work. Are you questioning my ability?”
“Sinclair, no one is doubting you. You’re one of the best mountaineers in the world. Just want you to be aware of the facts.”
“Get to the point.”
“The point is simple, my friend. This isn’t a tourist attraction like Everest.” There was an accusation in Rana’s tone.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Just making certain you understand if you stumble on this ride, you fall straight down. We’re not hiring any Sherpas to set our ice screws and tie our ropes. There will be no porters to carry fucking lawn chairs and barbeque grills and cases of champagne while we trail behind them. No well-worn yak trails to walk along. We’ll be roughing it, carrying our loads on our own backs, and cooking our own food. This isn’t about getting on the cover of National Geographic.” He gave Tristan a once over. “Or in your case, GQ.”
“It was a Men’s Health magazine, and you can stop giving me shit about it. We all have bills to pay.”
Rana tsked with the authenticity of an overbearing mother chiding her kid. “I can’t believe you went shirtless with a rope around your shoulder. Fucking lame, man.”
“What can I say? The photographer had a vision. Don’t worry about me. I can carry my own load.” Tristan gave Rana a once over. “And maybe some of yours too.”
The man smiled before downing the rest of his shot. He wiped his mouth. “Are you ready for this? You have your rescue insurance?”
“Bought and paid for.” And never used, thank God.
“Brilliant. If it was up to me alone, you’d be in.”
“Then why the long, scary speech?”
“Just wanted you to be prepared or as prepared as you can get in ten hours.”
“So I’m in?”
“Wish I could say yes, but now that I know you’re good with our route, there is still the issue of our little holdout.” Rana ran his finger along the rim of his glass. “It’s not me you need to convince. I was sold when your uncle asked me. This has to be a group decision, and as you know, it’s not unanimous, which poses a problem…for you.” He gestured to a group of men at a nearby table. “That’s my group. Their curriculum vitae reads like a map of the Karakorum.”
“Small group.” There were four men. Tristan recognized Joseph Lino from a magazine article. They were all speaking animatedly, no doubt discussing their climb. An older man held up his cup, and the others all tipped their glasses to it. Their excitement was contagious, and Tristan felt it all the way across the room.
“I trust each of them with my life. You would have been a good addition, Sinclair.”
“So which one is the holdout? Let me at least plead my case to the guy.”
“I don’t think it will help.”
“He’s got to see I would be an asset.”
“Well, if you insist, I have no objection.”
Tristan studied the group again. Possibly it was the blond man, the only one who wasn’t smiling. “So which one is he?”
Rana grinned, his teeth shining like a pouncing tiger. “Her.” He prolonged the syllables so the simple word sounded much longer. “And she’s not there. I believe she’s out back completing another inventory of our gear.”
“Her?”
“That’s what I said.” He clapped Tristan on the chest twice. “Good luck, man. You’ll need it.”
Chapter 5
Of course, there were female climbers, but not many. Even fewer who attempted an eight-thousander like K2. It would make sense a female would be more cautious. She might have camaraderie with the other males in the group and felt uncomfortable with a stranger. After all, they would be camping together and relying on each other for survival.
Whatever the reason, he needed to present a logical case for himself.
He turned to Rana. “I’ll be back.”
“Famous last words.”
Tristan cracked a smile. “We’ll see.”
“Inshallah, my friend,” Rana said, lifting his cup.
Tristan left the restaurant and crossed the lobby, heading in the direction of the back of the hotel where service vehicles parked. He didn’t have to look too hard for her. Men were loading items into a truck. She was inside the trailer, giving orders to the packers, a clipboard in her hand. The balmy night air was fragrant with flowers and something else.
Chocolate.
Dimples.
Bright eyes.
“Farah.”
She tilted her head up. “Hello, Tristan.”
“You’re a climber?”
She jumped down from the bed of the truck in one swift move. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
The corners of her lips tipped in an almost smile. “Why? Don’t you know? Climbers don’t have a build. They can be short and stout or tall and athletic. They can even be female.”
She had backhanded him with his own words. He couldn’t help a grin. Hell, he was probably blushing. Yeah, this one had sass to spare. “Why didn’t you say anything the other day?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I see. So it had nothing to do with your little deception?”
The girl had the nerve to cringe. “My deception?”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the truck. “Are we going to keep up the charade? I admire your devotion.”
“You must be angry with me.”
He shrugged. “Angry with myself, actually. It should have been obvious from the get-go.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, it took a minute, but it got clearer the more I thought about it. Maiden Shina. Maiden Shina. Maiden Shina. Made. In. China. Clever.”
She reached into her pocket. “I was planning to repay you.” She took out an envelope and lifted the flap open.
He stared in disbelief at the beige notes picturing a mustached man surrounded by a large maple leaf. “Canadian money?”
“I thought it would make it more convenient for you, Quebec.”
Despite himself, he laughed. “Woman, you’ve got some balls.”
“I was making a point with the money.”
“Which is?”
“We all have our reasons to lie, don’t we? But this isn’t a joke. This money really is for you, and it’s the same amount you paid whether it’s the American dollar or the Canadian dollar or the Pakistani rupee.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“But… It’s not my money. It’s—”
Tristan held up his hand to
stop her. “Just tell me why.”
She looked unsure. “I’m not a thief.”
“Did you do it for fun then? A way to pass the time?”
“Hardly. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Try me.”
She placed a strand of her hair behind her ear. She spoke to the men with an authority in her voice. They all stopped what they were doing and scattered. “The shopkeeper. I grew up with her daughter. We were childhood friends. Anyway, my friend is very sick, and the family needs money for medical expenses. I offered to pay for it. It’s not much money for me, but it is a fortune to them. Her mother would not accept help from me, even if it means her daughter cannot have the treatment.”
“Why not?”
“That is our culture. She has a lot of pride. Her husband would never allow me to pay. We just finished arguing about this when you came into the store. I noticed you looking at the painting. Maybe it was wrong, but I saw an opportunity to give her the money without hurting her pride. It would help everyone.”
He quirked his brow. “Everyone?”
“Well, maybe not everyone. But you did get something out of it. The painting wasn’t authentic, but the story is a true legend. I figured it was worth your time. Anyway, I was planning to leave the money in this envelope at the front desk for you. My intentions were good. I hope you understand.”
He did understand. She had used him, but only as a mechanism. A means to a justifiable end. He couldn’t fault her for it. “How did you know I was staying here?”
“I recognized you. I’ve seen you at the hotel, and I know who you are.”
How the hell had he missed her?
“You know my climbing resume then.”
“Yes, and I’ve seen your…photo shoots. I think the article was called ‘Adonis the Alpinist’ if I remember correctly.”
That damn cover was gonna kill him. “I’m a mountaineer. That’s it.”
She held out the envelope to him again. “It’s all there. You can count it.”
“I don’t want the money. Is your friend going to be all right?”
