He saw the hope die in Philby’s eyes as the import sank in, and Hale took a sip of his cooled tea to cover his frail relief: clearly the psychic sharing did have to be voluntary. Our father, Hale thought, loved you very much, Kim.
“Brotherly love,” echoed Philby emptily.
“-is not called for here, fortunately,” said Mammalian. “Plain professionalism will suffice. We are going to be ascending to the Abich I glacier today, and then traversing it to the top slope of the Parrot glacier. We may get snow, and the winds are constant, but no storm is expected. It will be dangerous nevertheless-the traverse will be across a convex snow surface at about a thirty-degree angle, so avalanches are a real possibility-and of course there are deep crevasses in the ice-but,” he said, rocking his head toward the other tent, “our Spetsnaz commandos were chosen because they have mountain-climbing experience, and we’ll all be roped in a line. It is what they call a static rope. Not much climbing should be required-simply follow the directions of the leader. If a man near you should fall into a crevasse, try to plunge your ice-axe into the surface near you, to moor yourself; and if you fall in, just hang there-don’t thrash or struggle, lest you pull the rest of us in after you.”
“Jesus,” said Philby.
“Prayer, I think,” said Mammalian judiciously, “would be contraindicated. We will all carry our automatic rifles, but it’s unlikely that we’ll encounter opposition at this point; nevertheless you will have a full magazine loaded and a live round in the chamber. Radios are not likely to work this close to the Ark and its inhabitants, but we have flare-guns, and since we are so close to the Soviet border a Mil helicopter will be here in less than ten minutes if we fire them.”
Mammalian paused and reached up to one of the hang-loops for his bottle; the liquid in it was cloudy, arak already mixed with water, and certainly it would be as cold as he could ask for. After he had uncorked it and taken a swig, he went on, exhaling licorice fumes, “In addition to the natural hazards of mountaineering, many climbing parties upon this mountain have been troubled by…irrational irritability and fear among the climbers, even abrupt insanity. Equipment has failed, inexplicably. These are evidences of resistance by the inhabitants of the peaks. We appear to have experienced nothing of the sort so far on this climb, which perhaps means that we are not unwelcome, but that condition may change when we get onto the higher glacier. So if you find yourself suddenly angry, or afraid, or disoriented, remind yourself that it is not a genuine, justified emotion! The Spetsnaz have been told this too, as clearly as seemed advisable. Simply stop, breathe deeply, recite the multiplication tables. And we have drugs that might help counter these effects.”
He looked beside him at Philby, then at Hale. “The Ark is on a ledge, over a lake,” Mammalian said. “It should be accessible, and we have enough men to dig it out if it is not. The two of you are to approach it, together. Don’t bother to try to walk in step or anything of that sort-it will be enough that you are side by side.” To Philby he said, “You have the rafiq jewel.”
“I contain it,” said Philby.
“As in 1948.” Mammalian took another sip of the arak and then corked the bottle and smiled. “As if that would stop us from taking it from you, if such was our purpose! The two of you may shout to the vessel, if there is no immediate response, but I think the Ark will open for you, at the mere approach of…the completed son.”
“And what,” asked Hale, not having to feign anxiety, “do we do then?”
Mammalian spread his hands and smiled. “Improvise.”
Hale nodded. That was what Hartsik had told him too. He remembered the djinn confined in the pool at Ain al’ Abd saying, This is the Nazrani son-and he remembered the king of Wabar telling him, The ghosts of my people could see that you have not the black drop in the human heart.
Prayer, I think, Mammalian had said here, would be contraindicated.
“Could I, er, have a bit of your arak?” Hale asked.
“I’ve got Scotch,” said Philby suddenly, “and gin. Both.” He was looking at the floor again.
Hale gave him an uncertain glance. He had seen Philby drinking from a steel water bottle that he had topped up last night from a bottle of Gordon’s gin, so Hale said, “Well, gin, actually.” He clenched his teeth, then made himself say, “Thanks.”
He was peripherally aware of Mammalian smiling ironically at him.
Improvise.
Hale had been improvising without cease ever since Mammalian had ordered him into the Bombard inflated motorboat in the storm surf below the Normandy Hotel on the rainy night of the twenty-third. And his calculations had become more complicated when he and his escorts had joined the rest of the team at the camp below Ararat last night.
Philby unsnapped a water bottle from a webbing harness on the floor, and Hale reached across to take it from him, willing his fingers not to tremble.
When the time came, Hale would shoot his derringer upward, into whatever form the djinn assumed; perhaps he could do it with the little gun held down by his belt, so that it would not be obvious that he had fired it, or even that the noise had been a gunshot. There might well be other, covering noises. But how wide would the shot spread, out of the gun’s short barrel?-widely enough to blow Hale’s face off? And then-the djinn would die? What ferocities might that involve? If he had to shoot more than twice, he would have to reload, and then aim. What would the Spetsnaz commandos make of that? Short work was what they’d make of him. And he had to save one round to fire into Philby’s back.
He took a big mouthful of Philby’s gin, and let it sting his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing it.
“Thanks,” he whispered more sincerely, handing the water bottle back to Philby.
“Up,” said Mammalian, slapping his hands onto his thighs. “Fuad and Umit will stay here-we take up our rifles and…ascend!”
The big Armenian was cheerful as he stood up again and began refastening the snaps of his parka; and Hale remembered coming to the conclusion, on the St. Georges Hotel terrace eighteen days ago, that Mammalian’s loyalties in this operation were to the djinn themselves, and not to the Rabkrin.
Hale got to his feet, glad that the climbing pants were so thick as to hide the shaking of his knees, and he pulled the snow-goggles down over his eye sockets and the bridge of his nose. His crampons were slung at his belt beside the head of his ice-axe, and he shuffled to the corner of the tent and picked up one of the white-painted Kalashnikovs. It weighed about ten pounds with the full thirty-round magazine attached in front of the trigger guard, but its weight was comfortable when he had slung it over his shoulder Bedu-style. Five spare magazines clicked in his pockets as he shifted to tug the leather mittens on over his liner gloves.
The tent had been cold, but he shivered when he had stepped out onto the snow and the icy wind found the gaps at his throat and wrists. Ice dust was sweeping down over the snowpack from the peak like the ghost of a fast, shallow stream, and he was glad that their route would not be taking them higher than the 14,000-foot level. Even under clouds the white glare of the snow field was dazzling, and the cornices of the Abich I glacier to the west glittered like diamonds.
He sat down on the trampled area of ice outside the tent to strap the steel-spiked crampons tightly onto the soles of his boots. Under the trampled snow the surface of the Cehennem Dere glacier was black, impregnated with lava dust-and he remembered the black glass beads he had found at Wabar, and then he thought of the oval shot pellets in his derringer.