Killer Storm

by Matt Dickinson

  Tashi and I gave each other a huge hug. As usual, she had been brilliant all the way through the trek.

  The smell of cooking wafted from the catering tents, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon tantalising in the morning air.

  A cousin of Kami’s was working as a porter for a Spanish team of climbers. He invited us for breakfast and we found ourselves sitting in a roomy tent with a plate of eggs and beans and a steaming mug of tea.

  ‘You made it, Kami,’ Shreeya said.

  ‘We’re all proud of you,’ Alex added.

  Kami and I embraced. ‘Well done, my friend,’ he told me, simply.

  ‘We need to build a cairn.’ Kami gazed at the fluttering prayer flags all around us, tears in his eyes. ‘It’s time for a puja.’

  ‘Isn’t that just for people who are planning to go to the top?’ Tashi asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ Kami replied. ‘It’s to thank the gods for all the good things in our lives. And to pray for the monsoon to return.’

  We all helped to haul stones off the glacier and built a nicely shaped cairn. Prayer flags were raised on a pole above it.

  A holy man was in residence at Base Camp. Virtually every team holds a puja ceremony so he was in constant demand.

  We paid a small sum to persuade him to come along.

  The lama opened a battered leather book with trembling hands. Following ancient inscriptions on the page with his finger, he began to mutter the many prayers and sutras that would make the puja complete.

  We stood in a circle around him, each of us enjoying it in our own way.

  At the close, threads of red cotton were produced. The lama muttered some words over them then tied them one by one around our necks to confirm we had participated.

  ‘The mountain has blessed you,’ he said, simply.

  At that point we should have turned round and trekked back out.

  Technically, we weren’t supposed to spend the night at Base Camp. Only those who have a climbing permit for Everest are allowed to stay. But Kami had plenty of Sherpa friends at the camp and they were more than happy to bend the rules and lend us some tents.

  We had a great party that night. The Sherpas rigged up some speakers in the mess tent and a good few bottles of beer were cracked open. Music was blaring across the glacier until the early hours. There were some legendary Sherpa climbers among the partygoers, including one who had been sixteen times to the summit.

  ‘Do you get tired of coming back to Everest?’ I asked him.

  ‘The mountain is different every time,’ he said. ‘It changes every single season.’

  ‘Does it get easier?’ Tashi asked him.

  ‘Never!’ he exclaimed. ‘No matter how many times a climber summits, it’s still the ultimate challenge.’

  The party ended and our little team dispersed in fine spirits, if a little unsteady on our feet.

  Tashi and I retreated to our tent, peeling up the zip and creating a mini plume of ice crystals in the glow of our head torches.

  ‘I forgot how tiring altitude is,’ I said.

  My head felt like it was packed with cotton wool.

  I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  It didn’t last long.

  The attack began at dawn.

  Shouting on the glacier.

  At first I thought I was imagining it. I rolled over in my sleeping bag and pulled the hood tight around my head.

  More shouts – definitely real. In my hazy early morning state I figured it might be another puja ceremony; sometimes they get pretty rowdy.

  I sat up. Scratched my head.

  A puja? At dawn?

  There’s no such thing. An explosion shocked the air, the retort echoing backwards and forwards on the valley walls.

  Was that a gunshot?

  Tashi woke.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she murmured. ‘Was that a gun?’

  ‘Sounded like one.’

  The shouts intensified. The sound of something breaking reached us. I heard a Western woman’s voice yelling ‘Come out of your tents. Come out now!’

  ‘I’ll go and check,’ I said. Tashi shrugged and rolled back over. I guess she thought it was someone having a joke or messing around.

  I pulled on my warm gear and unzipped the tent.

  The first thing I saw was half a dozen men attacking the main communications mast. They were smashing at the base of the metal tower with ice axes and rocks. I blinked in surprise. A handful of Sherpa guys approached them but quickly moved back when guns were pulled out.

  The mast fell with a crash of splintered metal.

  Two climbers from a nearby team came running past.

  ‘We’re under attack! Like Nanga Parbat. Run, while you still can.’

  Like Nanga Parbat? A terror attack?

  I thought back to the events they were referring to. The killings at Nanga Parbat Base Camp in 2013 had shaken the mountaineering world to its core. Terrorists had pulled climbers from their tents and slaughtered eleven in cold blood. Only two people survived.

  Now terror had come to Everest.

  A German was pulled from his tent. The attackers beat him.

  I ducked behind a boulder, peeping over as icy daggers of fear pricked my spine. Out of the gloom came a new figure, an imposing woman with long plaits of platinum-blonde hair. She was dressed in military fatigues, an assault rifle held confidently in her hands.

  ‘Where is Zhanna Kuzkin? Where is her tent?’ she hissed at a hapless climber.

  She pointed her gun at the man’s face and he gestured towards the Russian camp, just a stone’s throw from our own.

  The attackers moved towards it. It seemed that Zhanna was their main target.

  A twelve-year-old girl with the richest father in the world. It wasn’t difficult to work out what this was about.

  I thought about Tashi – about Shreeya, pregnant and even more vulnerable. I knew we had to act fast. I ran across the moraine and shook the top of the tent.

  ‘Tashi! Get your boots on. We have to get out of here.’

  I rattled the other tents. Alex emerged. Kami and Shreeya looked out, their faces ashen.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Alex asked. He rubbed sleep from his eyes.

  Just twenty metres from our position a new gang of invaders came into view. They were wild-looking men, some bearded, some dressed in military clothing. They began dragging more climbers from their tents, threatening them with their guns when they objected. One of them was Zhanna’s friend Dawa.

  ‘You know Zhanna?’ they said. ‘Where is she?’

  Dawa threw a punch. He was beaten to the ground, his leg twisting awkwardly as he fell.

  ‘There’s no time to pack,’ I told the others. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘What about Zhanna?’ Tashi said urgently. ‘We should try and help her.’

  We stared at Zhanna’s camp, now being ransacked by more than forty attackers, desperate to find their quarry. The tall blonde woman – evidently a leader of some sort – was barking instructions.

  ‘Nothing we can do,’ Alex said decisively.

  ‘But …’ I began. It felt so wrong to abandon Zhanna.

  Her camp was already overrun.

  Within seconds the others were ready.

  ‘This way!’ Alex said. We hurried away from our camp, heading down a slope into a natural gully that would give us some cover. Alex kept a punishing pace, leading us ever faster to the south. I couldn’t help fearing that a volley of bullets might follow us at any moment.

  We kept moving, down in that hollow, putting space between the attackers and us. Halfway down the strip we stopped; we heard shouting ahead.

  ‘There’s more than one group of attackers,’ Tashi whispered. We watched cautiously, using the undulating terrain for cover, as more climbers were pulled from their tents at gunpoint.

  ‘The girl? The girl?’ the raiders shouted.

  ‘They can’t find Zhanna,’ Alex whispered.


  ‘Someone might have alerted her,’ Tashi said. ‘Maybe the attackers were seen coming into camp.’

  We raised our heads as high as we dared above the rocks, trying to get a fix on what was happening. But the terrorists were herding people away from us and we couldn’t see clearly.

  ‘No time to lose,’ Alex urged. ‘We need to get out while things are in a state of confusion.’

  We continued south but things got slow. The glacier was split with crevasses that were too big to jump. We had to zigzag to find a way through.

  A tent loomed up. A medical centre run by a charity. We crouched down in a small crevasse, watching from a safe distance as several of the terrorists looted the drugs from inside.

  ‘These men are nothing but thieves,’ Alex whispered. ‘They’re totally undisciplined.’

  The men stuffed their spoils in rucksacks and marched briskly off towards the middle of the camp. We continued, and after twenty minutes of progress we found a place where huge boulders were scattered on the ice. We hid behind one of the bigger rocks, Tashi peeking out to see what was happening.

  ‘There are three armed men,’ she whispered. ‘They’ve sealed the only way out.’

  The single path out of Base Camp was under guard.

  A Sherpa ran up to the attackers, began to argue with them. He was pushed off balance then struck with the butt of a gun as he fell.

  He limped away, swearing at the invaders, his arm hanging at a strange angle. Tashi’s face was white.

  ‘These people are animals,’ she said. ‘I think they just broke that man’s arm.’

  We heard more screaming back in the main camp area.

  The situation was deteriorating fast.

  ‘We could try going without the path,’ Kami whispered. ‘Just head south on the glacier?’

  ‘That’s not an option,’ Alex replied. ‘We won’t make it.’

  I had to agree with Alex. The glacier got a lot more dangerous as it flowed down the valley.

  Trying to blaze a new trail across it could prove lethal. Or even impossible. Four miles of tortured ice stood between us and the nearest safe refuge at Gorak Shep. The terrain was packed with hazards that could swallow us up in the blink of an eye.

  Besides, the terrorists would spot us easily.

  ‘Can we get over one of the valley walls?’ Tashi asked.

  We stared at the vertical ramparts that surrounded us. Two serious mountains turned this place into a natural dead end: Pumori loomed on one side, Nuptse on the other.

  Hanging glaciers threatened both sides. There was no realistic trail.

  Base Camp was a perfect trap.

  ‘I think we’ve been spotted,’ Kami hissed.

  We heard a shout. The tall blonde woman dressed in combat clothes was fast approaching with a group of men.

  – CHAPTER 5 –

  ‘Come out!’ she cried. ‘Hands where we can see them.’

  Her voice was harsh, the accent guttural.

  We moved into view, arms raised high.

  ‘Where can I find Zhanna Kuzkin?’ she asked.

  Alex stepped forward.

  ‘Who’s asking?’ he said. I had to admire his nerve.

  ‘They call me Viking,’ the terrorist said. ‘I’ve been told your team have been hanging out with Zhanna. So you’d better tell us what you know. Anyone here got a problem with that?’

  ‘Yeah, as it happens,’ Alex said. ‘I do.’

  Viking’s eyes glittered.

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘An American citizen who doesn’t appreciate being pushed around,’ Alex said.

  ‘Well excuse me,’ Viking replied sarcastically. ‘I didn’t realise you were an American citizen! That changes everything. Why don’t I just call you up a limousine to take you home to mommy?’

  Her team of thugs laughed.

  ‘Where is she?’ she snapped. ‘Where is the girl?’

  We were silent.

  Viking pushed past her bodyguard and stood face-to-face with Alex.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

  ‘Alex Brennan. Why don’t you let the women go?’ Alex said steadily. He nodded to Shreeya and Tashi. ‘And the Nepali nationals. I imagine you’ve got no argument with them.’

  ‘All I want,’ Viking declared, ‘is to find Anatoly Kuzkin’s daughter.’

  ‘You’re a monster,’ Alex spat.

  ‘And you are a typical big-mouthed American,’ Viking said. She shoved Alex in the chest and for a brief moment his fists clenched and I saw fight in his eyes.

  I pulled him back.

  ‘Leave it,’ I said. I had a terrible feeling that Viking would shoot him.

  The terror leader jabbed Alex hard in the chest with the barrel of her weapon. He cried out, doubling up.

  ‘You come with us,’ Viking said.

  We followed instructions, trekking in single file up the trail that led back to the central zone of Base Camp.

  Alex stumbled along, clutching his ribs.

  Viking’s men guarded us, one on one. They seemed a mixed bunch. Some looked Eastern European, some looked Asian. They didn’t have a uniform as such, but lots of them were wearing bits and pieces of military clothing.

  The guns were real enough. Assault rifles of various types.

  Onwards we marched, losing all the valuable ground we had gained, the scowling terrorists on either side of us, their stony-faced leader at the rear.

  My spine tingled. I tried to recall what had happened at Nanga Parbat.

  Summary executions. Random shootings. Climbers from all over the world, killed by a terror group whose motives were never made clear.

  ‘You think they’re going to shoot us?’ I whispered to Kami.

  ‘They want Zhanna,’ he said. ‘But I guess anything can happen.’

  A crowd was growing. Close to the wreckage of the radio mast the inhabitants of Base Camp were being herded together.

  It was an incredible sight. A thousand climbers in a single huddle, fear written across every face. I heard comments from all sides as we were marched through the masses.

  ‘They can’t kill us all,’ one said.

  ‘We should attack them,’ muttered another.

  The blonde giant got a briefing from one of her men. I was close enough to hear him say their search had failed.

  Viking stood on a rock. One of her team stood filming her and I saw he had a satellite transmitter connected to his camera. She raised a megaphone and began to speak.

  ‘My name is Viking,’ she announced. ‘And this is Operation Killer Storm. We’re here to put things right. Show the world what Anatoly Kuzkin has been doing and force him to stop.’

  Tashi flashed me a look and I immediately made the connection. The Australian trekkers had mentioned the same ‘Killer Storm’ some days earlier.

  Now we knew what it meant.

  Viking held a small hard drive aloft.

  ‘We have tens of thousands of emails and files here, hacked from Kuzkin’s personal computers. These prove beyond doubt that he is guilty of crimes against the planet. Hundreds of thousands of people are starving and dying because of his activities.’

  She paused.

  ‘So, all I need right now is Anatoly Kuzkin to come here. I need to talk to him face-to-face. We know he is somewhere in Nepal, but sadly my men did not manage to find him in the east of the country.’

  A terrible silence befell the crowd.

  The terrorist turned up the volume on the megaphone.

  ‘But while Anatoly is not here right now, his daughter is. Zhanna! We know you are here. You must be hiding nearby. Come out!’

  No one stirred.

  ‘They want to use Zhanna as bait,’ Tashi whispered to me.

  ‘Evil,’ I replied.

  ‘Zhanna!’ the megaphone blasted out. ‘Come out now and I will let all your friends go free.’

  The climbers looked around expectantly but I wasn’t so sure Zhanna would give herself up. She would be ter
rified.

  Viking turned back to the crowd of climbers.

  ‘Why so silent? Are you feeling sorry for her father?’ the terror leader went on. ‘Don’t waste your pity on Anatoly Kuzkin. Two monsoons have failed because of his mining operations – he’s the reason this country is in such a mess.’

  Tashi murmured. ‘That’s the article we saw,’ she said.

  ‘Zhanna?’ she called into the megaphone, her voice more gentle. ‘You have to be hiding somewhere on this glacier and I’m sure you can hear me.’

  Her voice echoed around the walls of the valley, the natural acoustics projecting it over a huge distance.

  ‘Come out, please. I promise you won’t be harmed.’

  One thousand climbers held their breath, but nothing stirred out on the glacier.

  ‘OK,’ Viking resumed her broadcast with the megaphone. She nodded at our group, glaring at Alex. ‘Our American friend here has made it easy for me. His pig-headed attitude earlier means that it is he and his friends who will be kept hostage until you decide to make an appearance, Zhanna, and we get Anatoly to join us. The rest of you can leave. Get out of here!’

  I got a hollow sensation deep in my guts. Tashi stared at me, her eyes wide with terror.

  Someone shouted from the crowd.

  ‘Can we go to our tents? Take our passports? Our valuables?’

  ‘No!’ Viking fired a burst of gunfire into the air. ‘Move! Move!’

  Her men unshouldered their rifles, following her lead.

  ‘Get out of here!’

  A deafening crescendo erupted. Fifty rifles firing into the air.

  The crowd of people didn’t need to be told twice. A virtual stampede kicked off as every single climber and Sherpa at Base Camp turned on their heels and hurried for the trail to the south.

  Every single climber that was, except for our small expedition and Zhanna’s friend Dawa, who had been found hiding nearby.

  We were surrounded by gunmen, marched out on to the glacier and over to a mess tent. Dawa was limping badly from the awkward tumble he’d taken during his earlier beating. He could walk, but only just.

  The table and chairs were thrown out so we could all fit into the tent. Half a dozen men armed with AR-15 assault rifles guarded the entrance.