He settled down, let sleep claim him knowing that for one night in his life everything was as it should be.
Chelsea was alone when daylight wakened her. She rolled over and felt inside Kurt’s sleeping bag. It wasn’t dead cold, so he couldn’t have been gone long.
She sat up, realizing it hadn’t been the sunshine that had wakened her but the lack of noise. The wind had died away, and with it had gone her confidence that the climb would go on now that Kurt knew.
Sure, they had made love, but that had been instinct driving them into each other’s arms, not words of reason. What if Kurt thought she’d be safer if he took her back down the mountain and sent her home? She had to convince him that she’d be safer here with him, completing their goal, than in a crowded city where she could face a hired hit man on any corner she turned.
Yeah, even in the unlikely event that the guy she had stabbed with her boot was on cousin Arlon’s payroll.
That was the trouble with Kurt thinking they might have an obvious suspect in their camp—the obvious could blind them to the truth. They weren’t the only climbers to weather the high winds last night. There were a few other teams who had chosen to stay put. But no one else was targeting the route the U.S expedition of 1963 had conquered.
When she and Kurt headed west, the others would be on their way up the Lhotse Face.
By the time Kurt arrived back at the tent, she had taken a quick sponge bath with baby wipes. For a mind-rattling moment, she had realized they hadn’t used any contraception.
The more she thought about it, the less she worried at being cast aside barefoot and pregnant. Kurt wasn’t the type of guy to abandon his child. And if worse came to worst, she had money to support a family.
Her humor returned with a sudden surge of self-knowledge. She was putting the cart before the horse. Her cycle had barely begun—another reason for being glad of the shower at Base Camp.
Kurt came bearing gifts. She bet tea would never taste so good. “Thanks,” she said, reaching for the mug from her perch on top of her folded sleeping bag. “How did the rest of the team get through the night?”
He hunkered down next to her holding his blue mug. “Well, I don’t think they had as much fun as we did, but the injury toll could have been worse. A few cuts and bruises, nothing major.”
She held her breath. “Nothing to stop us leaving tomorrow?”
“Not a thing,” he replied. “The weather should be good for it. Clear skies all the way. We’ll get an early start, and with the fixed lines we’ve already put up, we could make it in a day, easy. Though we’re going to have to stay overnight where Bill and Atlanta are, and try moving their bodies out in the morning. But I’m not promising anything. I’ve been trying to work out the logistics, but I always end up with a headache.”
“That’s something else I need to tell you.”
Although his long legs were folded in a crouch, she saw him grow still, as if preparing for the worst. What did that say for their relationship? From now on she would not hold anything back. She didn’t dare if she wanted their liaison to grow into something more than a brief association with a mountain. “It is good news this time. I rang a contact at the organization I told you about. He promised to get a helicopter up here.”
His big fist clamped around his mug, his knuckles white. “And you are just now telling me this. Do you know how difficult it will be? Risky? Expensive?”
“Yes, I do, all of that. The cost doesn’t matter.”
Kurt didn’t say anything, just flicked her a sharp look from under his lashes.
“Don’t be like that,” she protested. “It isn’t about flaunting the money. I might only be a small cog in the wheel at the organization, but they value my skills and want to help. I understand the difficulties of getting their bodies off the mountain, but if this can prevent another death…” She choked at the thought of anything happening to Kurt. The stakes weren’t nearly as high for him—was she asking for too much? Was she gambling with more than she could bear to lose?
“You’re right. I should have thought of it myself. And I know you don’t flaunt your enormous wealth. You don’t even think about it half the time, and I wish I didn’t have to.”
He pushed himself to his feet and stood looking down. “Luckily we’re not leaving until tomorrow. I’ll get you the satellite phone. Do you think you can get hold of your contact?”
Kurt was already halfway through the door flap before she could reply. “More than likely. But I work with the guy. Don’t ask too many questions.”
“I’ll leave it to you.”
While Kurt was away, Chelsea began to pick up around her tent. There was stuff all over the floor, and she tucked her precious baby wipes and her headlamp into her pack.
She had rolled both sleeping bags when she came across the plastic bag containing the knife.
Daylight made it easier to see the lethal grace of the weapon. There was none of the heavy clunkiness she expected of a hunting knife. The blade on this one was finer, as if it had been sharpened often and honed into this particular shape.
There was writing on the blade, but she couldn’t make it out through the plastic. Careful not to touch any part of the knife that could hold fingerprints, she held it as Kurt had the night before, with the tips of her fingers on the narrow silver bar overlapping the top of the horn handle.
She twisted it in her fingers and let the bright sunshine from the doorway highlight the maker’s stamp at the thickest part of the blade. For a moment as she read everything seemed to go dark as if she might faint. She quickly pulled herself back from the rim of fear and verified what she had read. Made in South Africa.
Everything clicked into place.
Apart from Kurt and the Sherpas, the one thing both climbing expeditions had in common was Paul Nichols.
To think she’d actually liked the guy. It stung to think her judgment was so far off the mark.
As soon as Kurt reentered her tent, she would tell him about the clue they needed to set them on the right track.
To put them on their guard.
For weeks she’d been climbing with Paul behind her, watching her back. It would be torture to keep climbing in that order without spending every minute looking back over her shoulder.
What was the saying—better the devil you know?
Her mind buzzed with a million questions. Did they out Paul now, or wait until the next time he attempted something? Her head hurt just thinking of the extra precautions she would have to take to keep safe.
Kurt would know what to do. It didn’t matter that her people-reading skills had been off with Nichols—she wasn’t wrong about Kurt. She had trusted him with her life and would continue to do so. Nothing would persuade her he wasn’t one of the good guys.
Just as she came to that conclusion, that particular good guy entered her tent, his wide shoulders easing through the opening the way he did. The satellite phone was in his hand.
They were shoulders she could lean on, at least metaphorically. She just knew that any moment now Kurt would insist on restoring the status quo, where any physical contact between them was forbidden. At least she’d had last night.
Kurt looked at the knife swinging between her fingers and sighed. “You shouldn’t be playing with that. It needs to go somewhere safe until we can have any fingerprints checked out. It’ll probably have to be in the States.”
“I will, as soon as you’ve read what’s on it. I think the blade itself may be all the clues we need.”
After coming in out of the bright sunlight he had to squint to read the maker’s stamp. “Well. I’ll be damned. This might explain why Nichols was nursing a bandage on his right hand when I went to collect the satellite phone.”
Chapter 13
The knife wasn’t enough proof in itself for Kurt to send Nichols packing, though he knew Chelsea wanted action, wanted him to do something straightaway. “Problem is, we have nothing else to substantiate that this belongs to Nichol
s. Have you ever seen him use it? I haven’t.”
He pulled off his cap and tunneled his fingers through his hair, taking time to think. “It may simply be coincidence. A fair number of people got dinged up last night. And there are enough South African climbers around that the knife could have been found, or even stolen.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“One good thing,” he said, his ire at being left out of the loop for so long catching up with him. “Now that I’ve actually been allowed to read Atlanta’s letter, not only do I have to plan to stop you falling off a mountain, I’ll be the one watching your back. If it is Nichols, he won’t be able to get away with much with both of us and Rei keeping an eye on him.”
“Thanks, Kurt. I know this wasn’t the deal you signed up for and I appreciate it more than I can say.”
“This is more than a business deal and you damn well know it,” he retorted. He reached out, touched a finger to her face, her lips, letting his actions speak for him. All his intentions to keep Chelsea safe from notoriety could burst like a bubble if he wasn’t careful. “No one is going to harm you while I’m around. Got it?”
“Got it. Is there any chance you can sleep here tonight?”
He could see Chelsea was hoping he’d say yes. Hell, he’d love to say yes, but that would be letting his hormones make his decisions for him. And they weren’t concerned with safety; they were looking to slake themselves in the soft, warm heat inside Chelsea. “The offer is pretty tempting, but I think sleeping in the same tent as Nichols would be a more productive choice. Things start to get out of hand when the two of us are alone at night, and as much as I’d prefer sleeping with you, the only way to keep track of Nichols is by knowing if he gets up at night to take a wander and following him.”
Chelsea held her hand out for the satellite phone. “I guess there is nothing much more I can do but call Mac and see where he’s at with the helicopter. I hope he has a pilot who knows what he’s doing in mountain conditions. I’m still not sure it can be done in thin air.”
“What’s this Mac guy’s job?”
It still rankled Kurt that Chelsea hadn’t thought to speak to him before calling this Mac character. He knew Chelsea was used to her independence. Could be it was just as well that when their venture was over they’d be going their separate ways. When he did take a wife, he wanted them to be equal partners, sharing all aspects of their lives, not simply two people living together who never knew what the other was going to be up to or when.
“That is something you don’t need to know. In fact, forget I told you his name.”
“I just thought he might be able to check out Nichols. Tell him all we know about the guy and see what he comes up with. As for helicopters, if you’d asked, I could have told you that they’ve gone higher than we are now.”
He let out a short laugh as Chelsea pouted. Guess he deserved it. The moment he’d said it his comment had sounded like one-upmanship.
“Well, at least I now know it’s possible.”
“There are a lot of variables for the pilot to take into account flying this close to the mountain. The bodies are lying directly below the peak, so wind sheer could be a problem. And the amount of lift they can get will also depend on the air temperature. Those Alouette threes have turbo engines, but they’re dependent on the tail rotors to maneuver.”
Her eyes widened as he explained, and it cut him deeply that she thought climbing mountains was all he knew. “Flying choppers at this altitude takes a really experienced pilot. And I’m not happy about using a pilot who might take chances for the hell of it.”
“How many times can I apologize?”
“That’s not what I’m after. Go ahead and call the guy.” As far as Kurt was concerned, he’d seen enough of death on the mountain to last a lifetime. He didn’t want to add a seat-of-the-pants pilot to the list.
And he definitely didn’t want to add Chelsea. The thought sent acid through his gut. He could come out of this with an ulcer.
Atlanta’s letter had explained all sorts of little things that came back to him now in hindsight. From now on his twenty-twenty vision would be focused on Chelsea, on keeping her alive.
He looked down on her as she dialed out and sat waiting for a reply. Part of him wanted to gather her into his arms and protect her from the world, but trying to wrap her in cotton wool couldn’t be called living. She’d really spread her wings since they’d left Namche. As far as climbing went, Chelsea was a natural. They could have been great partners if it hadn’t been for all her money.
He looked at her dark hair, watched her hand that wasn’t holding the satellite phone move as she talked. Her face was beautiful and animated—she wasn’t just a pretty doll to stick on a shelf and admire. A warm feeling filled his gut, gathering into a huge lump behind his larynx.
She was speaking to Mac, but he wasn’t really listening. There was something a hell of a lot more important going on inside him. A realization that from now on, anyone who took on Chelsea had him to deal with. Anywhere, any time, he would protect her with his life if need be. And knowing that, how could he bring himself to let her go when their expedition was over? It would be a hard call, but best for Chelsea, if not for him.
He would have to learn to live with the situation.
And without her.
Nervous excitement gathered in the pit of Chelsea’s stomach next morning. This was it—what she had planned was about to happen. She was really going to find Atlanta and bring her home.
It was still dark and the stars had been out when she had looked out the flap of her tent, but she was up and dressed, chewing on a candy bar. She’d gotten over the horror of eating junk food for breakfast if she felt like it. Climbing would soon burn the energy off. In fact, her body felt slimmer, stronger and all-around tougher than it had been when she arrived.
She couldn’t bear to think that once she got back to Namche Bazaar all this would be over for her. The mountains had gotten into her blood. It appeared she was more like Atlanta than she had realized.
How could she give all this up and go back to working in a city? She had thought Paris was her milieu, but she had been wrong. Visiting the fashion stores and ballet would still be all right once in a while, but not as a constant diet. She had learned to see the world through new eyes, and the mountains filled her with more anticipation than the Eiffel Tower did.
When she’d finally reached Mac yesterday, she’d discovered he had exceeded her requirements. An Alouette III helicopter was standing by at Shyangboche waiting for her call, and he was with it. Mac had probably traveled on one of the Courier-Air Company’s planes. They were part of the bureau’s cover, using offices worldwide that supplied cover for agents, and the means to cross borders invisibly. No cost had been mentioned, but no matter what Jason Hart intimated, she couldn’t let the bureau stand all the expense.
Even before she knew the helicopter was available, she had become torn about her plans—to bury her family where they lay, or risk lives to bring them down. Over the past month she had come to learn the difficulties of transporting bodies down Mount Everest. No wonder the locals regarded the mother goddess as a jealous god who refused to give up those she had taken into her fold. It was practically impossible to retrieve them.
It felt strange to feel she was not the arbiter of her fate, to let someone else take control. Yet in a way it was into Kurt’s hands that she had placed her destiny. Did he realize that?
She was glad that he had succumbed the other night to the compelling force driving them into each other’s arms. If worse came to worst, at least she had been given what felt like love. He might not have said the words, but it had been in his every touch, every warm glance from his wonderful dark eyes.
She wished Kurt wasn’t so determined to play out the forbidden-contact angle to the last. What did her reputation matter if she couldn’t have the man she loved?
There, she had admitted it. She loved him.
She was
smiling to herself when Kurt pushed back the flap and entered her tent. They both were the stuff dramas were made of, both of them doing their damnedest to protect the other. But putting Kurt in harm’s way, by drawing him to cousin Arlon’s notice, was far more life threatening than a damaged reputation.
Her smile slid away. The grim expression on Kurt’s face could have been carved out of the mountain rock surrounding them. The back of her neck prickled as if she sensed a threat. “Kurt, what is it? What is wrong?”
“Nichols.”
She watched Kurt frown as he spat out the name in disgust. “He says his hand hurts too much to attempt the climb with us. I’d like to say to hell with you, buddy, then stay behind, but I don’t feel good about this turn of events. It’s too much like history repeating itself.”
Her natural instinct pushed her to take Kurt in her arms and hug him till his worries faded. She had to steel every nerve in her body to keep her distance from the man she wanted above all else in this world. Even though she’d had weeks to get used to it. “Well, at least his injury means there is no need to let Rei take the lead and put Paul between the two of you so you can keep your eye on him.”
“I can’t help thinking of how he followed up behind us last time. Yet the accident still happened. I’d feel a lot happier with him in plain sight. Now a part of me wants to call the climb off until he’s fit to climb.”
“And I feel a lot happier knowing he’s not around. Is he going down to Base Camp to give his wound a chance to heal?”
“So he says. I still don’t trust him.”
“I know the sensation. I can tell you, it shook my confidence when I remembered he came from Port Elizabeth. I was thinking about the coincidence last night. Just last year cousin Arlon visited the Tedman Foods plant out there.”
Kurt’s eyebrows lifted at that news.
“I remembered seeing it in the company newsletter I get twice a year. It is terrifying how thick and fast the coincidences are coming.” She let the angry sigh building in her chest escape. “But so darn frustrating that we still have no real proof.”
Stranded with a Stranger Page 17
