“Thank you.” Sam smiled at the crook. “If it’s all the same. I’ll have someone wire you anther million dollars in Bitcoins as a bonus.”
“Keep it,” Vincent replied.
“There’s going to be trouble here. A lot of people died. It’s going to be on the news everywhere. Someone’s going to want answers,” Sam said.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about me. I have deep pockets, and almost everyone from the ground up in this town owes me something. You go. I’ll fix it.”
“Okay, thanks,” Sam said, offering his hand.
Vincent took it and replied, “Oh, and another thing. You might want to know that we had strong interest from another buyer recently. He’d even offered to outbid you earlier today, but I told him it was already sold. Said he could double the pay if I got it back for him. Probably why some of my men worked with whoever these mercenaries are to steal it from you. Either way, the man seemed pretty determined. You might be in trouble. I’d hate for you to have another close call with an accident.”
“Thanks for the heads up. Did you happen to get his name?”
“Yes. Andrew Brandt.”
Sam had never heard of the man before, but the surname was too much of a coincidence to ignore. “Okay, thanks. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Andrew Brandt accepted his secure message.
“Did you get it?”
“No. They got to it first.”
“What about Jason? I thought he had a plan? After all, we paid him a big enough advance that he should have got the job done!”
“Jason’s dead.”
Andrew wanted to punch something. “He’s lucky. I don’t take well to failures. Especially two in the one day.”
“What do you want me to do, boss?”
“Stay with the good Dr. Swan, and see where they get to. If you find out anything more let me know.”
“Very good, Mr. Brandt. And where are you going to be?”
“I’m heading to Nepal, to fix up your fuckup.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The town of Lukla came into view as the Dornier Do 228 banked to the right and commenced its final approach into Tenzing-Hillary airport, Nepal. High above the steep-sided Dudh Khosi valley, snow-covered mountains appeared to surround the aircraft. The highest among them, Mount Everest, stood proud to the left of their horizon.
The twin-turboprop STOL, which stood for short takeoff and landing, had been specifically modified as one of four commercial aircraft currently in service capable of transporting climbers to the closest airport to Mount Everest base camp. Ahead of them, a single runway of just 1729 feet sloped in a not-so-gradual upwards direction, terminating in a near vertical rock wall dwarfed by a mountain, which made the prospect of a successful go around due to a short final impossible.
Sam Reilly nudged Tom, who snored loudly.
Despite being six foot four, Tom Bower had somehow managed to stretch his strong, lanky body out over the pile of climbing bags stowed in front of him, and remained sound asleep.
“Get up Tom, you’re about to miss it!”
Tom purposely rolled to his right, away from Sam, and replied, “Miss what?”
“We’re coming into land at Tenzing-Hillary airport!”
“That’s great, buddy,” he replied, and then pulled his climbing hood over his head and returned to his deep sleep.
“Don’t you want to watch the landing? This was once voted the most dangerous airport in the world!”
“I flew into here years ago when I did some high altitude training with the Corps.” Tom’s voice sounded almost bored. “It’s perfectly safe, so long as the pilots don’t screw it up.”
The plane jolted with the constant buffeting as they descended closer toward the town of Lukla. There were only two runways. Runway 06 for landings, and its reciprocal, 24, for takeoffs. One way in and one out. Sam watched with a mixture of respect and awe, as the two Nepalese pilots worked fastidiously in the cockpit to bring them safely toward the runway. This meant that, despite the strong crosswind, the pilots had no other option than to land the plane.
They brought the nose down at the last minute, and braked hard.
The aircraft came to a rolling stop with no more than 60 feet remaining before reaching the rock ending of the runway. The pilot then turned the plane to the small square of tarmac, where he came to a complete stop.
Sam nudged Tom again. “You missed it! Impressive landing. Nicely done.”
Tom rolled over. “We’re here are we? Damn. I just got back to sleep!”
Sam grabbed his climbing bag and two duffle bags’ worth of equipment. They weren’t travelling light, but they would have more than enough help to carry it all. At the bottom of the plane’s airsteps, a man in a pilot’s uniform stood holding a banner with the words, “Welcome Reilly Party.” The man had blond hair, pale white skin and blue eyes, making his appearance distinctly different than the local Nepalese pilots, or Sherpas.
“Hello. Mr. Reilly?”
“Please, call me Sam.” He offered his hand. “This is my friend, Tom.”
“Welcome to Nepal.” The man smiled warmly and accepted Sam’s handshake. “My name is Dmitry Grekov.”
“You’re Russian?” Sam noted, out of interest.
“Yes. Does that surprise you?”
“I thought Nepal was a little more parochial with those who they employ high up in the mountains?”
Dmitry picked up their duffle bags and began walking toward the chartered helicopter. “Yes, they like to support the employment of the local people first. But since the Eurocopter AS350 B3 came into operation, all that changed.”
“Really, how so?” Sam asked.
“The B3 is capable of operating above 23,000 feet, raising the mountain rescue ceiling to new heights. With good cellular reception now being maintained throughout the mountains, the opportunity of high altitude rescue has become a reality. Both search-and-rescue and commercialization in the region are taking another large, if lurching, step forward. B3s have been a fixture for decades in other mountain destinations, especially the Alps, where they have saved hundreds of lives. But in Nepal, B3s had until recently seen limited use. Consequently, they were short on high altitude pilots. And so I came here. I have been here nearly three years now, and I like it.”
“And you have plenty of experience flying at high altitude?” Sam asked.
“More than anyone else.” Dmitri smiled graciously. “That is, more than any other alpine pilot still alive. I have clocked more than 10 000 hours of high altitude flying. Nearly 3,000 of that is above 20,000 feet.”
“That’s impressive,” Sam agreed. “Good, because where we’re going we may need every bit of that experience.”
“And where would you like to go?” Dmitri raised his right eyebrow, out of curiosity more than apprehension. He hadn’t come to the Himalayas to be careful.
“I’m not sure yet. But for now, I need to have a good vantage point to view the Five Treasures of Snow.”
Tom appeared to lose interest in the story as he became distracted by an airplane taking off. A DHC-6 Twin Otter was picking up speed on the tiny runway. On its side, in large lettering were the words: Yeti Airlines. “Christ, almighty! Sam did you know that we landed on that runway?”
“I might have mentioned something about that Tom.”
“And here is your chartered helicopter,” Dmitri said. “As requested, I kept your climbing party small. You both said you were capable of carrying your own equipment while you climb?”
“Yes.”