Raymond Benson - High Time To Kill

Marquis took the floor again and said, “Thank you, Dr. Kendall. l’m sure we’ll all put ourselves in your capable hands.”

She smirked and turned red again as the others laughed.

“Right,” Marquis said. He then introduced the man who was in charge of Nepalese relations. He would be working with the sirdar to hire the Sherpa porters once they reached Taplejung. Other climbers Would be hired there to assist in the hauling once the team reached Camp Five and the aircraft.

The equipment manager was a renowned French mountaineer. Bond was aware of his talents. He was probably the only mountaineer the team who was as experienced as Roland Marquis. He was a small man but had extremely broad shoulders and a big, bald head.

“My lieutenants on the team are my friends Tom Barlow and Carl Glass, there in the second row.”

Barlow was tall, lanky, and hirsute with thick glasses, while Glass was stocky, clean shaven, and expressionless.

Marquis then introduced three men representing the Americans, who stood and said hello. One of them seemed very young, probably in his early twenties, and looked even younger. Bond had already heard one of the others refer to him as “the kid.”

Three other men were presented as “haulers.” Two were known British mountaineers. The third, introduced as Otto Schrenk, was a last-minute replacement.

Marquis explained. “Apparently Jack Kubrick was involved in a terrible accident the night before our departure from London. We had to scramble for someone else, and Mr. Schrenk here, from Berlin, volunteered to step in.”

This news took Bond by surprise. He had spent quite some time studying the backgrounds of each and every team member. SIS had done a complete security check on all of them. Bond wasn’t comfortable with an unknown. If the Union were going to infiltrate the team, they would do it at the last minute. Bond made a note to put in a call to SIS and have Schrenk scrutinized.

He leaned over to Chandra and whispered, “Keep an eye on that one.”

Chandra nodded imperceptibly.

Marquis then gestured to them. “Over here are representatives from the Foreign Office, Mr. James Bond and Sergeant Chandra Bahadur Gurung, his assistant. The sergeant is on loan to us from the army. He’s with the Royal Gurkha Rifles, isn’t that right?”

Chandra grinned and nodded. His eyes wrinkled when he smiled, giving the impression that every line in his face was smiling.

Bond nodded at the others, then sat down. He caught Hope Kendall’s eye, and lingered there a moment. She was studying him, attempting to figure him out with a spontaneous first impression.

“Last but not least is Paul Baack, our communications officer, Marquis said, gesturing to a tall, large man with a neat goatee and deep brown eyes. Baack stood up, immediately dispelling the notion that anyone else might be bigger than he.

“Thank you,” he said with a pronounced Dutch accent. “I am hippy 10 be here.” He smiled broadly, then sat down.

In Bond’s opinion, it was Baack who had the most impressive credentials. Not only was the man a top-notch mountaineer, his work in communications was widely respected in intelligence circles. Q Branch routinely consulted the Dutch engineer, but Marquis hadn’t known that. Bond had never met him and looked forward to doing so.

The girl was a big question mark, Bond thought. Was she Marquis’s girlfriend? They certainly flirted with each other a lot in public. She seemed capable, but in Bond’s opinion, bringing a girl along with a team of men was just asking for trouble. She might insist that more effort be expended on providing her with a certain amount of privacy. On the other hand, she might be a distraction if she simply tried to be “one of the boys.”

“One other thing I need to mention,” Marquis said. “There are three other expeditions climbing Kangch.”

Bond knew that there were two. Another must have appeared in the last day or two.

“Permits for a Chinese expedition were applied for on the same day as ours. A Russian expedition was mounted just a few days later. The Chinese are climbing the north face as well, but slightly south of us. If you ask me, they’re doing it the hard way. The Russians are also coming up the north face, and at this point we don’t know what route they’re taking. Just a few days ago a Belgian team applied for permits. I understand that they were granted today.”

Bond raised his hand and was acknowledged by Marquis.

“What do we know about them?”

Not much. They’re all experienced climbers. They came up with the money, and that’s all Nepal cares about. They don’t represent any specific groups. As far as we know, they’re in it only for the sport.” Bond frowned.

Right,” said Marquis. “Are there any other questions?” Otto Schrenk, the newcomer, raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Schrenk?”

“Why are we climbing the north face? That is very difficult.” He had a thick German accent.

“It happens to be the most direct route to the aircraft. Also, the politics involved with obtaining permission to climb from the Sikkim side were too complicated. The north, west, and southwest sides of the mountain are in Nepalese territory. Of these, the north face is the safest. There have been deaths there over the years, to be sure, but several people have made it to the top.”

That seemed to satisfy Schrenk. He nodded and folded his arms.

“Anyone else?”

No one said anything.

“Fine, then,” Marquis said, slapping his stomach. “I’m ready to eat!”

The group stood up and stretched, picking up the conversations they had halted a half hour ago.

Bond looked at Hope Kendall, who was gathering her things. Could she really take the next seven or eight weeks being the only woman among such testosterone-heavy human beings as Roland Marquis . . . and himself?

“Just a second,” Bond said to Chandra. “If I’m not back in sixty seconds, you’ll have to eat without me.”

He walked over to Hope, held out his hand, and said, “Hello, I thought I should come over and introduce myself properly.”

She smiled warmly and shook his hand. “I’m glad to be working with you, Mr. Bond. So far the trip is a beaut, don’t you think? I m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know much about your background.”

“We’ve been here only a day,” Bond said. “The law of inevitable rubbish will descend upon us before we know it. It always happens.

“You’re not going into this with a bad attitude, are you, Mr. Bond? she asked flirtatiously.

“Not at all. As you said, we all have to keep our wits about us. Would you care to accompany me to dinner?”

She shook her head. “I’m already promised to Roland. Some other time, maybe, all right?” She smiled, gave a little wave, then turned and walked away.

Chandra, who had observed the scene, was highly amused. -CHANDRA, if your smile gets any bigger, your face will split in two,” Bond said.

I THINK she’s the wrong girl for you, Commander Bond. Khanu paryo,” he said, meaning that it was time to eat.

Bond replied with what little Nepalese he had learned in the past few days. “Khanu Hos.”

Contrary to popular belief, cuisine in Nepal was quite varied. In Bond’s opinion, Nepalese food in and of itself tended to be rather bland and uninteresting. There was only so much dhal bhat one could eat, and he was going to have plenty of that over the next weeks. In Kathmandu, at least, one could get a variety of international cuisines, and the Chimney in the hotel specialized in some of the finest Russian food he had ever tasted. Founded by Boris Lissanevitch, it is perhaps the oldest western restaurant in Nepal. It took its name from the huge copper chimney and open brick fireplace that occupy the center. It was the perfect place for an intimate dinner with live classical guitar music.