Jeffrey Archer - Paths Of Glory

“Let me try to understand what you’re saying, Mallory,” said Hinks, going red in the face. “Are you telling this committee that you would climb the last 2,000 feet of Mount Everest with anyone, provided that you were able to reach the summit?”

“Anyone,” said George without hesitation.

“Even a German?” said Hinks quietly.

“Even the devil,” replied George.

“I say, old chap,” said Ashcroft, “don’t you think that was uncalled for?”

“Not as uncalled for as dying an unnecessary death five thousand miles from home because I didn’t have the right climbing partner,” said George.

“I am quite happy to record your strongly held feelings in the minutes, Mallory,” said Hinks, “but our decision on Finch is final.”

George was silent for a moment. “Then you can also record in the minutes, Mr. Hinks, my resignation as climbing leader and as a member of this committee.” Several of those around the table began to speak at once, but George ignored them, and added, “I am not willing to leave my wife and children for at least six months to take part in a mission that failed simply because it left its finest climber behind.”

Sir Francis had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the tumult that followed. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said, tapping the side of his brandy glass with a pencil. “It is clear that we have reached an impasse that can be resolved only in one way.”

“What do you have in mind, Mr. Chairman?” asked Hinks suspiciously.

“We shall have to take a vote.”

“But I haven’t had time to prepare the necessary ballot papers,” blustered Hinks.

“Ballot papers won’t be necessary,” said Sir Francis. “After all, it’s a simple enough decision. Is Finch to be included in the climbing party or not?” Hinks sank back in his chair, struggling to conceal a smile.

“Very well,” said Sir Francis. “Will those members in favor of Finch being included in the climbing party please raise their hands.”

Mallory and Young immediately put up their hands, and to everyone’s surprise General Bruce joined them.

“Those against?” said the chairman.

Hinks, Raeburn, and Ashcroft raised their hands without hesitation.

“That’s three votes each,” said Hinks, recording the decision in his minute book. “Which leaves you, Mr. Chairman, with the casting vote.”

Everyone around the table turned toward Sir Francis. He considered his position for a few moments before saying, “I cast my vote in favor of Finch.”

Hinks held his pen poised above the minute book, seemingly unable to record the chairman’s vote. “Mr. Chairman,” he said, “for the record, may we know what caused you to reach this decision?”

“Most certainly,” said Sir Francis. “It won’t be me being asked to risk my life when Mallory reaches 27,000 feet.”

T HE LITTLE BRASSbell above the door rang.

“Good morning, Mr. Pink,” said George as he entered Ede & Ravenscroft.

“Good morning, Mr. Mallory. How may I assist you on this occasion, sir?”

George leaned across the counter. “I’ve just been selected as a member of the climbing party for the expedition to Everest,” he whispered.

“How very interesting, Mr. Mallory,” said the manager. “We haven’t had any other customers planning a holiday in that part of the world, so may I be so bold as to ask what sort of weather conditions you might be expecting?”

“Well, I’m not altogether certain,” admitted George. “But as far as I can make out, once we’ve reached 27,000 feet, we can expect gale-force winds, a temperature of forty degrees below zero and so little oxygen that it may be almost impossible to breathe.”

“Then you’ll certainly be needing a woolen scarf and some warm gloves, not to mention the appropriate headgear,” said Mr. Pink, coming out from behind the counter.

The manager’s first suggestion was a cashmere Burberry scarf, followed by a pair of fleece-lined black leather gloves. George followed Mr. Pink around the shop as he selected three pairs of thick gray woolen socks, two navy blue jumpers, a Shackleton windcheater, several silk shirts, and the latest pair of fur-lined camping boots.

“And may I inquire, sir, do you anticipate any snow during this trip?”

“Most of the time, I suspect,” said George.

“Then you’ll be needing an umbrella,” suggested Mr. Pink. “And what about headgear, sir?”

“I thought I’d take my brother’s leather flying helmet and goggles,” said George.

“I don’t think you’ll find that’s what fashionable gentlemen will be wearing climbing this year,” said Mr. Pink, handing him the latest deer-stalker.

“Which is why it won’t be a fashionable gentleman who’ll be the first to set foot on the summit of Everest.”

George smiled when he saw Finch approaching the counter, his arms laden with goods.

“We at Ede and Ravenscroft,” ventured Mr. Pink, “believe that it matters how a gentleman looks when he attains the summit of any mountain.”

“I can’t imagine why,” said Finch, as he placed his purchases on the counter. “There won’t be any girls up there waiting for us.”

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Finch?” asked the manager, trying not to show his disapproval.

“Not at these prices, there won’t,” George said after checking his bill.

Mr. Pink bowed politely and began to wrap up his customer’s purchases.

“I’m glad we bumped into each other, Finch,” said George. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve seen the light,” said Finch, “and are at last considering the use of oxygen.”

“Perhaps,” said George. “But I still need to be convinced.”

“Then I need at least a couple of hours of your time, as well as the proper equipment to hand, so I can demonstrate why oxygen will make all the difference.”

“Let’s discuss it while we’re on the boat to Bombay, when you’ll have more than enough time to convince me.”

“That’s assuming I’ll be on the boat.”

“But you’ve already been selected for the team.”

“Only thanks to your intervention,” said Finch, scowling. “And I’m grateful because I suspect the nearest that Hinks has been to a mountain is a Christmas card.”

“That will be thirty-three pounds and eleven shillings, Mr. Finch,” said Mr. Pink. “May I inquire how you intend to settle your bill on this occasion?”

“Just put it on my account,” said Finch, trying to imitate Mr. Pink’s “for customers” accent.

The manager hesitated for a moment before giving Finch a slight bow.

“See you on board then,” said Finch before picking up his brown paper bag and leaving the shop.

“Your bill comes to forty-one pounds, four shillings, and six pence, Mr. Mallory,” said Mr. Pink.

George wrote out a check for the full amount.

“Thank you, sir. And may I say on behalf of all of us here at Ede and Ravenscroft that we hope you will be the first man to reach the summit of Everest, and not…”

Mr. Pink did not finish the sentence. Both men looked out of the window and watched Finch as he strode off down the road.

G EORGE KNEW THEmoment he stepped on board the SS Caledonia at Tilbury that he was embarking on a journey for which he had been preparing all his life.

The climbing team spent the five-week sea voyage to Bombay getting better acquainted, improving their fitness, and learning how to work together as a unit. Every morning for an hour before breakfast they would run circuits around the deck, with Finch always setting the pace. Occasionally George’s ankle would play up a little, but he didn’t admit it, even to himself. After breakfast he would lie out on the deck reading John Maynard Keynes’s The Economic Consequences of the Peace , but not until he’d written his daily letter to Ruth.