Contracts

by Matt Rogers

  He nearly groaned. ‘What talk, Raya?’

  ‘I told you I’d hold off until we were here safe and sound.’

  ‘Hold on. I need a moment.’

  ‘Like always.’

  ‘Raya,’ he snapped.

  The owner of the teahouse, a small squared-away Nepali man, tiptoed out of the kitchen. ‘Namaste.’

  ‘Namaste,’ Parker said.

  Raya repeated the greeting.

  Then the rest of the party arrived.

  Winston, then Oscar, then Sejun, then the porter.

  The two bodyguards conducted a rudimentary survey of the premises. It didn’t take a great deal of effort. There was the communal area which doubled as a dining room, then the separate low building consisting entirely of sleeping quarters. Each room had rickety metal bed frames and thin mattresses and nothing else. Maybe blankets, if they were lucky, but they’d brought their own sleeping bags regardless.

  They watched the porter drop their bags on the concrete patio in front of the bedrooms and trundle into the communal building. He sat separately, as was the custom. He seemed to prefer it. They’d tried to coax him over many times during their time together, but the guide had quietly informed them it was Nepali tradition to sit on a separate table to the clients. Anything else would be seen as intrusion.

  Parker respected that.

  He appreciated his alone time as much as the next man.

  Now, Raya said, ‘I feel like this is our only opportunity to talk.’

  Parker raised an eyebrow. ‘And why’s that?’

  ‘Winston and Oscar are sweeping the rooms. Soon they’ll be here.’

  ‘They could sit at another table if you want to talk privately.’

  ‘“We can’t do that, sweetheart,”’ Raya said, impersonating her father from the night before. ‘“We don’t want to exclude them.”’

  Parker sighed. ‘Look, if you really want me to…’

  ‘I don’t want you to do anything. Except think about what a vacation entails.’

  ‘This is a little tougher than a regular vacation, don’t you think?’ he said, attempting a half-smile.

  She scowled and turned away.

  The joke fizzled out, dead on arrival.

  Sejun sauntered over, sensing an opportunity in the silence, and said, ‘The usual?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Raya said.

  Five minutes later, the teahouse owner brought out steaming mugs of masala tea. The spices and herbs had been added without restraint, which Parker appreciated. He liked the tang. He sipped gratefully at the drink until it was all but drained. Now that they’d stopped they were getting cold, and the spicy tea warmed his insides. He hunched over the tabletop and stared at his daughter.

  ‘Let’s talk,’ he said.

  She looked up at him. ‘Oh, now you want to—?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said abruptly. ‘Let’s cover what we need to cover.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m in the mood now.’

  She said, ‘I already told you what I wanted to—’

  ‘People depend on me,’ Parker said.

  A pause.

  Raya said, ‘Okay…’

  ‘Do you understand what that means?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘My job is what you’d call high-stakes. I’m not supposed to tell you that, Raya, but I will. I handle very important matters every day. I know you’re not an adult, but you want to be treated like one, so I’ll do exactly that. Without me doing what I do, people will die. I’m not exaggerating. I take my job very seriously, but sometimes the schedule isn’t as clear-cut as it seems and I need to stay back at the office. Sometimes it takes all night — you’ve seen that. And I don’t want to stop because people rely on me to be very good at my job. I’m sorry if it’s hurting you. It’s hurting your mother, too. But I have a tough decision to make day in and day out — do I want to give my family my undivided attention, or do I want to protect the lives of my countrymen?’

  Silence.

  Deafening silence.

  Raya sat back and chewed her bottom lip and intermittently sipped at her masala tea.

  Then she said, ‘Do you like what you do?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say.’

  ‘Do you look forward to going to work?’

  ‘I guess. Because I know that the only thing I’m good at is coordination. And my job involves a lot of that. And if I wasn’t doing that, I’d know full well that I was letting people die.’

  ‘But then isn’t that just guilt?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘So you don’t really enjoy it?’

  He said, ‘This isn’t a conversation I wanted to have with my daughter.’

  ‘Why?’ she said. ‘Because I’m young? Because you think I won’t be able to understand?’

  ‘No…’

  ‘I’m nearly fifteen. I can hear this shit.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  He said, ‘I guess I just never wanted you to be in danger.’

  ‘You think I’m in danger?’

  ‘No,’ he said, backtracking. But he gulped involuntarily. ‘Just a hunch I’ve always had.’

  She seemed to pick up on something. Something deeper in his eyes. Something … caring.

  She leant forward and said, ‘Can we sleep in the same room tonight, Dad?’

  He tensed up. ‘Raya, you know—’

  She held up a hand. ‘If you need to spend that much time at your job, then I understand. But it doesn’t need to carry over out here. We’re alone on a mountain. And I don’t like it when Oscar has to sleep on the other bed every night. Can’t you make the bodyguards share a room? Just for once?’

  It went against all his instincts.

  But, he realised, sometimes you had to rebel.

  For the sake of your family.

  He shrugged and said, ‘I could do that. Just for one night.’

  ‘We’ll be safe,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

  The naivety of youth, he thought.

  But he said, ‘I know.’

  She excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Parker ushered Winston and Oscar over to the table in her absence.

  4

  It hadn’t been easy.

  They’d debated, and debated, and debated, and finally Parker brought the hammer down.

  He’d said, ‘Gentlemen — this job pays well, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Winston said. ‘But, Aidan, you know it’s—’

  ‘I know,’ Parker hissed. ‘But humour me, will you? What if this is the last night I ever have with my daughter? I’m going to grant her this one wish. I don’t give a shit what rules I’m violating.’

  ‘But how are we supposed to—?’ Oscar started.

  Parker held up a finger, silencing him. ‘If you still want your jobs when we get back, you’ll let this happen.’

  ‘It changes our plans.’

  ‘I know. But you’re going to do it regardless, because I want time with my daughter, and quite frankly she’s sick of the pair of you.’

  Winston bristled, and Oscar didn’t visibly react.

  Then Oscar leant forward and said, ‘We’re doing everything you wanted from us. We’re maintaining a respectable distance during the day. We’re not getting involved in conversation. We’re—’

  ‘I know,’ Parker said. ‘But you’re here. And that’s all that matters to her. Cut me some slack.’

  ‘You don’t get to do that,’ Oscar snapped. ‘Not with your position. Not with what you demand of us when—’

  Parker held up a hand, cutting him off again. ‘I won’t hear another word. I’m not kidding. We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. Both of you bunk down for the night in the same room and worry about what you need to worry about later. Not right now. Okay?’

  Oscar glanced left, then glanced right, then opened his mouth to say something.

  Parker just wordlessly shook his head.

  The b
odyguard threw his hands in the air in mock defeat. He slapped Winston on the back and shot out of his chair. ‘We’ll eat in our rooms.’

  ‘Do they allow that?’ Parker said.

  ‘Do I give a shit?’

  Winston sheepishly followed his co-worker, and the pair disappeared from the dining room.

  Raya returned moments later.

  ‘How’d that go?’ she said.

  Parker shook his head. ‘You’re lucky I love you.’

  She paused, and stared at him. ‘You don’t say that often.’

  ‘When I do, I mean it.’

  A half-smile crossed her face. ‘Love you too, Dad.’

  They ate steamed vegetable momos and sipped at mushroom soup and drank more masala tea. Then Sejun and his porter waved goodnight, leaving them alone in the dimly-lit teahouse.

  Raya cradled her mug in her hands and said, ‘I’m really enjoying tonight.’

  ‘I think Oscar might be mad at me in the morning.’

  ‘Not Winston?’

  ‘He didn’t seem to take it so personally.’

  ‘Why do you think that is?’

  Parker shrugged. ‘He can probably see the humanity in this.’

  Raya half-scowled. ‘It’s a strange life, isn’t it? Having to fight to get a single moment that seems … I don’t know … normal.’

  ‘Comes with the territory.’

  She paused to mull over her thoughts, and finally said, ‘Would you do it all over again?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘All of this. The constant protection and the fact that you’re never able to see your family. Is it worth it?’

  ‘I didn’t really choose this. It sort of fell into my lap. I’m good at it.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’d do it again. But I’d compartmentalise better.’

  ‘You’d—?’

  ‘I’d forget about my job when I walked out those doors every evening.’

  ‘You don’t do that?’

  ‘It’s hard not to think about things.’

  ‘What do you do, exactly?’

  A sad smile crept across Parker’s face. ‘Not tonight, Raya. One step at a time. There’s only so much I can tell you at once.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ she said. ‘At least we get to be alone like this.’

  She looked over her shoulder, seemingly paranoid that one of the bodyguards would be watching. But there was no-one in sight. Just the cold wind trickling in through the open doorway.

  She said, ‘You going to be okay for the rest of the trip?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I can feel my body adapting.’

  ‘Can you?’

  She smirked, and he did too.

  ‘I feel lighter,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘Imagine the sort of shape you’ll be in by the end.’

  There was Wi-Fi at the teahouse, so Raya pulled up pictures of Gokyo Ri through Google Images and flicked through them. There was a twinkle in her eye. Parker watched his daughter gaze with wonderment at the screen.

  She looked up at him and smiled. ‘It’s really going to be something, isn’t it?’

  He didn’t respond.

  Just thought long and hard about the direction his life had taken.

  Maybe I should have spent more time with her, he thought.

  He shrugged it off. There’d be plenty of opportunities in the future. He wasn’t that old yet. If all went according to plan with his health, there’d be a few more decades to strengthen the bond. So he didn’t write it off as an abysmal failure yet.

  He checked his watch and said, ‘Time for bed, I think.’

  ‘For you or for me?’

  ‘I’m going,’ he said. ‘It’s an early start tomorrow. You can make up your own mind. You’re not ten anymore, kid.’

  She smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’m coming.’

  The room consisted of the same setup they’d seen half a dozen times so far along the trail. Single beds pushed to either wall, with a thin strip of stained carpet in between to rest their bags, their boots, and their trekking poles. Parker unfurled his sleeping bag and stripped off his salty hiking clothes. He changed into thermals, slipped into bed, and adjusted the hard thin pillow under his head.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Raya mirroring his actions.

  She turned the light out, and all that was left was the steady mountain wind battering the building. The foundations were thin, so the structure shook slightly with each gale.

  But it held.

  In the darkness, Parker said, ‘You’re right.’

  Raya’s voice floated across. ‘About what?’

  ‘Feels a whole lot better when it’s less … professional. I don’t like Oscar sleeping in the room. Feels like he’s always watching.’

  ‘See? I think I can get you to cut loose a little more going forward.’

  Parker smiled. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Night, Dad.’

  ‘Goodnight, Raya.’

  ‘I love you.’

  He hesitated.

  Maybe it would all be okay. He couldn’t be paranoid forever.

  He said, ‘You too.’

  Then he rolled over and exhaustion took hold and, utterly spent, he drifted into the deepest sleep of his life.

  5

  As soon as he woke up he knew something was dreadfully wrong.

  The fog of deep sleep took a few moments to lift. Parker peeled one eye open, saw the faint tendrils of daylight snaking across the wooden ceiling, and lay on his back as his mind and body came back to reality. He shifted slightly in his sleeping bag, and his muscles groaned in protest. His ankles and knees were swollen from repetitive blunt impacts on the steep descents. He shimmied his arms out of the bag and stretched them over his head.

  His chest was tight — that worried him.

  Other than that, he figured he’d be okay.

  It’d soon be time for breakfast.

  He rolled over to wake up Raya.

  She wasn’t there.

  The sleeping bag was open, zipped all the way down. The silence became more pronounced. Parker listened to the nothingness and stayed still for a beat. He kept listening. Figured she’d be using the drop toilet, or up early, tapping away at her smartphone in the communal building.

  But that didn’t make sense, because her bag was gone, too.

  Maybe she’d packed early.

  Unlikely.

  The last few days had been a constant battle to get all her gear stowed away so they could set off on time and maintain some sort of coherent schedule. He didn’t figure she’d had a total overhaul of her habits within twenty-four hours.

  He looked at the bedroom door. It lay ajar, cracked open a few inches. Wind whistled in softly. Through the gap, he could see the door of the opposite room. Winston and Oscar’s. It was firmly shut.

  He unzipped his sleeping bag and clambered to his feet. His joints were stiff, and his muscles were sore, and his neck was tight. He cracked his neck left and right and padded across the thin carpet, feeling the concrete underfoot.

  He didn’t say a word.

  He creaked the door open and stepped out into the tiny alcove separating the two bedrooms in this module. The drop toilet lay in a small room between them. The door was open, and it was unattended.

  Leaving only the communal building.

  Parker thought about letting Winston and Oscar rest, but instead he raised his hand and knocked sharply on their door. Three times, to let them know it was him.

  No response.

  He looked down at the entranceway. Winston’s Scarpa hiking boots rested diagonally against the wall, caked in mud and dirt and grime.

  Oscar’s were gone.

  The foundations of unease crept in. Parker’s throat tightened, and he felt the sudden thud of each heartbeat in his chest.

  He knocked again.

  Silence.

  He reached down and tried the handle.

  Unlocked.

  He
sitant, he pushed the door open.

  Oscar was gone.

  Winston was there.

  His head had nearly been ripped off his shoulders.

  He’d been strangled to death with a garrote. Parker would have recognised the handiwork anywhere. It might have taken a civilian minutes, if not hours, to work out what had happened, but Parker took one look at the pale corpse splayed across the bed with a deep red line of ruptured skin winding all the way around his clammy throat, and knew the cause of death immediately. Winston’s mouth was open in a twisted grimace, and his bloodshot eyes had crimson stains around them. He’d struggled and strained so hard against the metal wire that his eyeballs had nearly popped out. The sockets had bled as he’d fought for his life with a silent scream in his throat. His hands were still clenched tight, having locked up as he died in unimaginable pain.

  Parker sat down hard in the middle of the alcove.

  His own mouth fell open.

  No sound came out.

  His lips flapped like a fish out of water.

  His hands started to twitch imperceptibly.

  He looked back into his own room.

  No sign of Raya.

  He looked forward.

  No sign of Oscar.

  Fighting back vomit, he clambered shakily to his feet and stumbled out into the pre-dawn light. Steam billowed out of his mouth in clouds as he rasped for breath. Reality shimmered, like this wasn’t really happening. But it was. His heart rate was dangerously high. He found a plastic table resting on the concrete patio and clutched it hard, stabilising himself as his legs nearly collapsed.

  The trail was dead ahead.

  It was quiet.

  Movement sounded to his right, and he looked over. He was barely lucid. Like a zombie. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. But through vision blurred by tears he saw Sejun, perched uncomfortably on a step, hands in his pockets. The guide seemed disoriented. Out of sorts. But he still noticed Parker’s condition.

  ‘Are you okay, Aidan?’ Sejun said.

  Parker didn’t respond. He fought back an overwhelming wave of nausea.

  Sejun said, ‘Have you seen Mukta?’

  ‘W-who?’

  ‘The porter.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s not in his room. Very strange. I go looking.’