Raymond Benson - High Time To Kill

“My dear Hope,” Marquis said, “you yourself said it could strike anyone at any time. You’re no exception. Now, please, let me take you down to Camp Two. You need to descend as quickly as possible. I can carry you on—”

“Shut up, Roland!” she snapped. “I’m not going anywhere. This will pass. Stop fussing over me. I hate it!”

“I’m only trying to—”

“Please just leave me alone! Get out of here!” she screamed.

Marquis stiffened, embarrassed and angry. He moved away and, without a word, glared at Bond and left the tent.

“What should we do?” Glass asked her.

“I’m sorry. He’s right, dammit,” she said. “I need to go to Camp Two but I just don’t have the strength. For three days I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten, haven’t peed . . . I’m constipated as hell. . . .” She was on the verge of tears, but she didn’t have the energy for it.

“Wait, I’ll get the Gamow Bag,” Bond said.

He left the tent as she mumbled, “Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”

Bond retrieved Major Boothroyd’s modified device from the Sherpas and brought it back to the tent. She climbed into it and sealed it up after thanking Bond and telling everyone to let her be for a few hours. Since the bag had its own generator to pump air into it, it was inflated within minutes.

A Gamow Bag artificially reproduces the pressure of a lower altitude. It temporarily cures symptoms of AMS, but the victim normally has to descend anyway to recover fully.

Bond looked up through his goggles and saw that the sun was still high in the sky, so there was possibly time for her to get down before nightfall, as descending wouldn’t be as time-consuming as the trip UP He then found Paul Baack and asked to use the satellite linkup. The Dutchman gave him the privacy of his tent.

Alone, Bond phoned London. After several rings the voice-messaging service kicked in.

You have reached Helena Marksbury. I’m sorry that I am away from my desk . . .”

It was almost a surreal experience. Here he was, halfway around the world, on the side of a fierce mountain and isolated from civilization, yet he was able to hear the voice of a lover, albeit a former one.

“I’m halfway up Kangch,” he said after the beep. “Camp Three. Where are you? I’ll switch over to Bill. It was nice to hear your voice.”

He quickly pressed the code sequence that transferred him to Bill Tanner’s office. Christ, Bond thought. He was thankful that she hadn’t picked up after all. It would have been awkward. He hoped that she was not still upset about their relationship.

There were a few pips, and Tanner picked up. “James?”

“Hello, Bill. I’m calling from sixty-six hundred meters. Nothing on Schrenk?”

“No, but we received some interesting intelligence from our new man in India. His name is Banerjee. He’s Zakir Bedi’s replacement.”

“What’s that?”

“They intercepted Union communications to Kathmandu. The man who tried to kill you there was indeed employed by the Union. An accomplice was snatched, a go-between apparently, and he confessed that the Union have infiltrated your expedition. It’s someone in your party, James.”

“I’ve suspected that all along. Thanks for confirming it.”

“Any idea who it might be?”

“I’ve been thinking it’s Schrenk.”

“If we find anything that ties him to the Union, I’ll certainly get a coded message to you. We also learned that the Russian expedition is being financed by certain military authorities in Moscow who have files in our offices a mile long. They have strong ties to the Russian Mafia. There can be only one reason they’re up there.”

“Thanks for the tip. I had better go. I don’t want the Ministry of Defence complaining about the phone bill.”

“There’s one other thing, James.”

Bond detected hesitation in his voice.

“What’s that?”

“Helena is missing. She’s been gone for two days and hasn’t phoned in. As you know, our security procedures are such that when someone in her position doesn’t call in, we—”

“I know,” Bond said, “you send someone to her flat. And?”

“She wasn’t there, either. The flat had been ransacked.”

Oh, no. Bond squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“James,” Tanner said. “We concluded our investigation into the leak at M16.”

Bond said it before the Chief of Staff could. “It’s her.”

Tanner’s silence confirmed it.

“She’s probably in trouble if she’s mixed up with the Union,” Bond said.

“James,” Tanner said gently. “She’s probably dead. But we’ll keep looking. Try not to worry about it. Concentrate on the job at hand.”

Right. Bond gripped the phone tightly and said, “Keep me informed.”

“Watch your back, James.”

Bond rang off and stepped outside the tent. Paul Baack was standing there, shivering.

“All done?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks. Better get inside and get warm.”

“I will. You might tell the same thing to our illustrious leader over there Baack gestured toward Marquis’s tent, then went inside his own.

Bond found Marquis throwing his ice ax at a solid boulder of ice. He seemed to be in a trance. He threw the ax, walked over and retrieved it, returned to his position, and threw it again. And again.

Bond felt like joining him but decided not to bother.

Three hours later Hope Kendall emerged from the Gamow Bag and announced that she was going down to Camp Two for a couple of days. Bond offered to accompany her, but she said it wasn’t necessary. Marquis knew better than to volunteer, but he insisted that a Sherpa go with her.

Two days later Bond was in his own tent, having just completed reading the criminal profiling book, when Paul Baack stuck his head inside.

“I must show you something, James,” he said. Bond got up and followed the Dutchman back to his tent. There was a blurry photograph displayed on the monitor of his laptop.

“It’s a satellite photo,” he said. “It’s the north face of the mountain as seen from space, but magnified many times. Look, this is our camp here.” As he pointed to objects on the screen, Bond began to comprehend what he was looking at.

“Over here is something that wasn’t there yesterday.” He pointed to another mass of dark objects, slightly east of them. “Those are the Russians.”

“We knew they were close, but what is that, a thousand meters?” Bond asked.

“Less. Maybe eight hundred. They set up their equivalent of Camp Three there. To get there you would have to climb up and over the Bergschrund, see?” He pointed to a deep slit that delineated a glacier’s upper terminus. It was a phenomenon that formed as the body of ice slid away from the steeper wall immediately above, leaving a gap between glacier and rock.

Bond nodded. “We have to cross that to get to Camp Four,” he said.

“But then, to get to the Russians, you have to go down this way here. That’s quite a hike, at least an eight-hour journey. I don’t think we have to worry about them making a sneak attack on our camp.”

They’re probably waiting for us to make the next move, Bond thought.

“Thanks,” Bond said. “Keep an eye on them. If they show signs of activity, let me know.”

“Will do.” Bond started to leave, but Baack stopped him. “James?

“Yes?”

“What was Roland talking about the other day when he said you were on a secret mission? I mean, I know you’re on a secret mission I have known all along. They wouldn’t have given me all this stuff- Ministry of Defence . . . a Gurkha assistant . . . I mean, what’s going on? I have a right to know, I think.”