High Time To Kill

by Raymond Benson

  “What made you become a doctor?”

  “That’s a long story. I was pretty wild when I was young. Hell, I’m still young. When I was younger, I should say. All I wanted to do was live in the outdoors, go camping, climb mountains, that sort of thing. And, uhm, there were men.” She shook her head, whistled, and smiled. “I had a huge men problem. I thought there was something wrong with me! I couldn’t get enough … hell, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, I hardly know you!”

  Bond laughed. “We’re spending the next few weeks together, so I wouldn’t worry about that. As a matter of fact, I sometimes think I have the same problem. With women, of course.”

  “Well, I had it with women, too,” she said under her breath and rolling her eyes. “I didn’t think there could be such a thing as sex addiction, but I had it bad. When I was treated for it, I became interested in psychology, and that in turn led to medicine. I hadn’t gone to college yet, so I did a complete turnaround. The wild child became a serious student. I moved to Auckland to study to be a doctor, and now I can name every part of your body and spell it, too. I turned the interest in sex into a specialization in sexology for a while—you know, sexual dysfunction and all that—but then I became more attracted to general practice. I suppose you could say I find the human body a very interesting machine. I’m fascinated by it, the way a bloke knows how to take apart a sports car and put it back together. I like to test the body’s limits.”

  That explained the rather rough physical examination he experienced the other day.

  “And how’s that addiction now?” he asked.

  She stood up and put the pack on her back. “Like any vice, as long as it’s in moderation, it can’t be too bad.” She winked at him and walked away.

  She was a “hard case” herself, Bond thought. He knew that he shouldn’t bother attempting to figure her out, but he found that he was very attracted to her. Hope obviously exhibited a great deal of energy and intelligence, but she also possessed a distinct and unsubtle animal magnetism that was inviting.

  They reached the picnic site set up by the Sherpas at approximately one o’clock. There was still another two hours or more to go before they reached the day’s stop. Lunch was tama, a Nepali soup made from dried bamboo shoots. Bond found it less than satisfying, but it would have to do.

  As they rested for a half hour, Bond wandered over to Paul Baack and asked, “Any new messages from London?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’ll let you know. I check the e-mail three times a day. I did receive a note from our liaison in Kathmandu. He says the Chinese are only a mile to the southwest of us and are gaining ground. If we stay on the same schedule, we’ll still beat them to the mountain. But if they happen to double their efforts and attempt to pass us …”

  “Noted,” Bond said.

  The team prepared to leave the site as the Sherpas packed up. The three Americans were standing on a ledge looking at a glorious view of a terraced hill that farmers were plowing. When they turned to join the others, Bill Scott, one of the Americans, tripped over a stone and fell. He cried out in pain and held on to his foot. Hope Kendall rushed to him.

  “Now what?” Marquis muttered. He wandered over to the huddle and listened to what the doctor had to say.

  Bond and Chandra joined them. Hope had unlashed Scott’s boot and was examining his ankle. It was already swelling badly.

  “It’s broken,” she said finally.

  “Aw, hell,” Scott said. “What will that mean?”

  “You can’t continue on,” she said. “I mean, you could try, but you’re going to be in a lot of pain. Once we reach Base Camp you’ll certainly be in no condition to climb the mountain. I really think you should go back.”

  “Go back? Where?”

  “To Taplejung,” Marquis said. “You’ll have to wait for us there.”

  “For a month?” Scott was angry and humiliated. “Aww, man …”

  “One of the Sherpas will take you back. You’ll just have to stay put there until we return, unless you can get a flight back to Kathmandu. That’s possible, I suppose.”

  Hope did her best to wrap the ankle so that he could hobble. One of the Sherpas found a tree branch that could be used as a crutch.

  “It’s going to take you a long time, so you had better get going,” Marquis said. “Bad luck, old man.”

  “Yeah.” Scott said his good-byes to the rest of the team and his fellow Americans, then he and Chettan, one of the Sherpas, began the long trek back.

  When they were out of earshot, Hope addressed everyone. “I was afraid that would happen. He had been complaining of headaches. He had a mild case of AMS and wasn’t totally with it. It just goes to show you that accidents can happen quickly and unexpectedly.”

  “Can AMS really strike at this altitude?” the young American known as “the kid” asked.

  “It varies with the individual,” she replied. “We’re really not very high yet, but that doesn’t matter. Some people experience symptoms of AMS just driving a car up to a higher elevation than the one they’re used to. Others have difficulty riding an elevator to the top of a skyscraper. Everyone is different. That’s why you’ve got to be aware of the symptoms.”

  “Fine, fine,” Marquis said impatiently. “Well, we’ve lost one team member, let’s not lose any others, all right? We had better push on.”

  They picked up their gear and continued on the faint path that must have been trampled by a few hundred people over the last fifty years.

  The next hour was a tough one. The terrain changed, and although the altitude increase was minimal, the ground was rockier and more difficult to walk on. One of the Sherpas said that a rock fall from the neighboring “hill” had caused the problem.

  They eventually got to a smoother path, and Bond caught up with Roland Marquis, who was dressed in khakis and a wool flannel shirt that was embroidered with RAF insignia.

  “Hello, Bond,” he said, steadily marching as if he were on a treadmill. Keeping up with him meant not lagging for an instant. “Come to see how it feels to be leader for a while?”

  “No, I came forward to see what that horrible smell was coming from the front of the team,” Bond said with a straight face.

  “Very funny. I suppose you think you can do better, eh?”

  “Not at all, Roland. Can’t you take a joke? I think you’re doing a splendid job. I mean it.”

  “By Jove, Bond, it almost sounds as if you really do. Well, thanks. It’s not easy, this. You know as well as I that the schedule is damn near impossible,” Marquis said quietly. It was the first time Bond had ever heard him say anything without his macho facade.

  “I can’t believe that fool American tripped and broke his bloody ankle,” he continued. “Somehow, when a member of my team gets hurt, I feel responsible.”

  “That’s only natural,” Bond said.

  “But what happened was stupid. I should have looked at his credentials more carefully.”

  “Roland, I’m concerned about the new man, Schrenk,” Bond said. “There wasn’t time for SIS to completely clear him. What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing, except that he doesn’t say a bloody word to anyone. I wondered when you were going to mention him to me. I had no choice but to bring him on, Bond. He was the only one. Now with Scott gone, we’ll really need the extra manpower. Besides, it was SIS’s job to check him out, not mine. I reviewed only his mountaineering credentials, which were excellent, so don’t complain to me.”

  They walked on in silence. Both men were breathing at the same rate, moving with the same speed, and thinking identical things about each other.

  “I do love climbing,” Marquis said after a while. “If I didn’t love it so much, I certainly wouldn’t be the leader. But it takes someone with experience to be leader, I suppose. Have you ever led an expedition, Bond?”

  “No.”

  “No, of course you haven’t. You don’t make the sport a habit, do you.”

&n
bsp; “Not like you, Roland. I go climbing only once every three or four years.”

  “That’s too long a gap. What if a golfer played only once every three or four years? He wouldn’t be a very good golfer.”

  “It’s a bit different.”

  “I’m just making a point, that’s all,” Marquis said.

  “What is it?”

  “That climbing isn’t a sport for you. You’re an amateur. You’re a good amateur, don’t get me wrong, but you’re still an amateur.”

  “You haven’t seen me in action yet, Roland.”

  “True, I suppose I should wait until we’re at seven thousand meters before I make that assessment.”

  “Everything has to be a contest with you, doesn’t it, Roland?” Bond said rhetorically.

  Marquis laughed aloud. “Admit it, Bond, you’ve always been a little jealous of me. I beat you too many times on the wrestling mat back when we were boys.”

  “Once more, I seem to remember it the other way around.”

  “There you go again distorting history,” Marquis said.

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” It took everything to keep Bond from losing his sense of humor. They walked for ten minutes in silence again.

  Finally, Marquis asked, “So, Bond, what do you think of our good doctor?”

  “She seems capable,” Bond said tactfully.

  Marquis laughed. “Oh, she’s a fine doctor. I meant, what do you think of her as a woman?”

  Again, Bond said, “She seems capable.”

  Marquis snorted. “I think she’s simply amazing.”

  Bond normally didn’t like to discuss other people’s relationships. He was curious, though, to see what Marquis might have to say about her. He was the type of man who enjoyed boasting and had a loose tongue when it came to sexual exploits. The trouble was that his kind of man also tended to exaggerate.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Bond,” Marquis said. “You’re wondering what kind of relationship I have with her. We’re not lovers, if that’s what you think. We were once, a few years ago. We tried to rekindle it at the beginning of this little venture, but it didn’t work out. We’re just friends now.”

  “Are you saying she’s fair game?” Bond asked.

  Marquis stopped dramatically in his tracks. Bond almost stumbled, then halted and looked at Marquis, who had a glint in his eye that was full of menace.

  “She’s absolutely fair game, if you can manage it,” he said. There was, however, an implicit warning in the voice.

  At that moment Hope walked up and stood between them. Her long, golden tresses blew in the wind and around the pack on her back. Even with no makeup and none of the normal day-to-day personal conveniences enjoyed by western women, she was wholesomely attractive.

  “I expected to find you two arm-wrestling up here,” she said. “Roland, you look like you’re ready to hit your friend, here. Did he say something mean?”

  “It’s nothing, my dear,” Marquis said. “Bond and I go way back, that’s all.”

  “So I’ve heard. You two had better behave. The smell of testosterone over here is overpowering. I don’t want to have to patch up either of you after you’ve beaten each other into a pulp.”

  “We’re not fighting,” Marquis said.

  “Not even over me?” she asked facetiously, but Bond thought she was more earnest than she let on.

  Marquis turned to her and said, “Yes, Hope, my dear, that’s precisely what we’re doing. We’re fighting over you.”

  She didn’t rise to his anger at all. She turned up her nose flirtatiously and said, “Well, in that case, may the best man win.” With that, she moved back toward the others, who had all interpreted Marquis’s stopping as a signal for them to halt and rest.

  “What are you doing sitting on your arses?” he shouted at them.

  “We’ve had our rest already! Get up! There’s still about an hour to go before we reach camp.”

  Irritably, he turned and began trekking forward. Bond let him lead on and waited until Chandra caught up with him. Hope passed him, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye but not saying a word.

  Bond thought that she was the biggest tease in the Eastern Hemisphere. Normally he disdained women of that ilk, but with her, the come-on was more of a challenge. He was beginning to understand her better. By her own admission, this was an intelligent woman who liked to get physical. She was unable to separate her rough, clinical manner as a medical practitioner from the rather coarse nature of her individual sexuality. Just as she liked to see what made human beings tick, she was stimulated by the primal rituals between males and females. She enjoyed the mating game in its purest sense. Perhaps this explained her love for the outdoors and for adventure. Bond was convinced that she probably had a healthy percentage of testosterone in her own body. He wondered what she might be like in bed.…

  Bond continued up the path with Chandra and Paul Baack. The camp was a welcome sight when they finally reached it at four o’clock in the afternoon.

  The overnight stay in Ghaiya Bai was uneventful, and the team had settled into a daily routine that would vary little until they reached the Base Camp. The goal for the day was to reach Kyapra, at 2,700 meters. The following day the team would ascend to a relatively major village called Ghunsa, located at 3,440 meters. Normally, a few days would be spent there acclimatizing, but that wasn’t in Marquis’s plan.

  Bond stayed with Chandra most of the morning, purposefully avoiding any contact with either Roland Marquis or Hope Kendall. He had enough to worry about without getting into a match of wills with one or the other. Instead, he concentrated on the day’s goal and tried to enjoy the scenery. They were seeing fewer and fewer signs of civilization as they ascended above 2,500 meters.

  At lunchtime Paul Baack approached Bond and said, “The Chinese are less than a mile that way.” He pointed toward the southwest. The big man handed him a pair of binoculars. Bond stood on a rock and looked through them.

  He could see a group of at least ten men moving slowly across the side of a hill toward a site where many Sherpas had set up their own lunch stop.

  Marquis climbed on the rock and asked, “What do you see?”

  “We have company,” Bond said. He handed the binoculars to Marquis so that he could look, then asked, “I think Chandra and I should leave you here and do a little reconnaissance. We’ll meet you in Ghunsa tomorrow afternoon.”

  “What, you’ll do a bivouac tonight?”

  “That’s right,” Bond said, “we’ll go without a tent. We both have bivouac sacks. We each have copies of the trekking route. We’ll be fine. We’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you wandering off, Bond,” Marquis said.

  “Sorry, Roland,” Bond said. “We’re going.” He jumped down from the rock and went to explain the plan to Chandra.

  Roland Marquis frowned to himself. He needed Bond in one piece, at least until they found Skin 17.

  Bond and Chandra slipped away from the others and made their way as surreptitiously as possible toward the Chinese expedition. They got within one hundred meters of them, close enough to make an assessment of their group.

  “There are eleven of them,” Chandra said, looking through binoculars. “And a lot of porters.” He scanned each man carefully and noted, “At least three of the men are carrying rifles. Why would anyone want a rifle on an expedition up Kangchenjunga?”

  “Unless they were planning to do someone some harm when they get there,” Bond suggested. “Come on, they’re moving.”

  Chandra moved stealthily, and Bond followed. The Gurkha was a superior mountaineer. He also knew tricks and techniques to move around the hills unseen. Bond gladly turned over the leadership of their side venture to him.

  Shortly before sundown the Chinese set up camp not far from Kyapra. They pitched tents and were settling down for the night. Bond and Chandra took up a position above them, nestled in an array of rock formations surrounded by a f
ew trees.

  “We’ll wait until dark, when they’re asleep,” Bond said. “Then we’ll see what there is to see.”

  Chandra grinned. “I haven’t had this much fun since Bosnia.”

  “Bosnia was fun?”

  “Yes, sir! Any kind of action is better than sitting in England twiddling our thumbs. I’ve been to Zaire. The Gulf War was interesting. I had never been in that part of the world. I’m still waiting for the chance to use my khukri the way my ancestors did.”

  “You mean that you haven’t killed anyone with it yet?”

  “That’s right,” Chandra said. “I’ve chopped plenty of fruits and vegetables with it, but no enemy necks. Someday I make a good tossed salad with heads, and I don’t mean lettuce, eh, James?”

  “You Gurkhas have a morbid sense of humor, did anyone ever tell you that?”

  “All the time.”

  “Chandra, if you’re part Buddhist, how is it that you could kill if you had to?”

  “That’s a good question, James,” the Gurkha said. “Buddhists are not supposed to kill any living creature. However, I am a soldier and a Gurkha. We are here to preserve the dignity and freedom of man. I know it’s a contradiction in terms, but the Gurkhas have been a contradiction in terms for nearly two hundred years!”

  Nightfall finally came, and they waited until the last embers of the Chinese campfire died. Then, slowly and silently, they crept down the hill toward the site. Bond had observed the group carefully so that he could pinpoint which tents held humans and which ones only equipment and food supplies. The portable kitchen, similar to their own, was built near there. The Sherpas were sleeping in tents close to this area, and Bond knew that they would probably be lighter sleepers than the Chinese.

  Using a penlight, Bond found sacks of rice and lentils. Another group of bags held tea. There was a sack of dried figs and other fruits. He whispered to Chandra, “They seem fairly ill equipped, wouldn’t you say? I’m afraid we have to play a dirty trick on them and contaminate the food somehow. Then they’ll have to turn back to resupply themselves, and by then they’ll be too late to catch up. Got any ideas?”