An hour later, the helicopter landed at Tribhuvan International Airport, Kathmandu. Jack thanked the pilot and waved good-bye to the ground crew preparing to refuel the chopper.
He entered the small terminal building and wandered over to see what eastbound flights were available. He booked himself on a Nepal Royal Air flight leaving at 10:00 p.m. for Bangkok, Thailand. From there, he’d catch either a Cathay-Pacific flight or Air Singapore to Los Angeles.
He treated himself to an espresso and then wandered about the airport, people-watching as throngs of young trekkers and climbers traveled through the airport.
Several hours later he strolled up to the gate and quickly boarded the Boeing and settled back into the plush business-class seat. The Everest climb and his tortured relationship with Leah played over and over in his mind. He lay back and closed his eyes. His last conscious memory was the airliner’s jet turbine engines spooling up as the pilot aimed the huge aircraft down the runway for takeoff.
“Are you okay, sir?” asked the flight attendant.
Jack blinked and then smiled meekly. “Sorry, must have been dreaming.” He glanced at his watch. They were already an hour into the flight. All he remembered from the dream was being frozen in a bathtub full of ice, with the rotting corpse of Adeline Smith reaching out for him, her fleshless skull inches from his face, eye sockets pitch black, the mouth twisted into a wicked grin.
The flight attendant looked at his forehead then down at the folding dinner tray.
“You whacked your head good.”
Jack felt a small bump rising on the center of his forehead. He must have done it in response to the dream.
“Lucky I hit something I don’t use often.”
“Were you here on a trek or mountain climbing?”
“I just got down off Everest.”
She smiled. “We’ll be serving dinner after cocktails.”
Once the plane had landed, he breathed a sigh of relief and waited for the pilot to guide the airliner to the terminal building. Jack exited the aircraft, thanked the pilots, and strolled toward the business-class passenger lounge. He flashed his ticket to the receptionist and sat down in the lounge. His voice mail system said he had twenty-six messages. He buzzed through them quickly.
He probably had ten times that much e-mail, but when it was urgent, people still picked up the telephone or sent a text. Several clients wanted information on guided climbs, and one call was from television producer Steve Broadwin. He wanted a live remote from the top of Everest for next year’s program celebrating Sir Edmund Hillary’s historic first climb.
Jack saved the call from the network. They were a pain in the ass, but the pay and exposure were great. He also had several media requests for interviews regarding Paulson’s Mt. Everest story, including Time magazine requesting a cover story on the new risk-takers in the world of big business.
He let Paulson’s personal assistant Karen Miller handle this stuff. He’d been burned more than once by reporters obsessed by how they might feature the billionaire in a bad light.
Jack thought for a moment and then changed his outgoing message. “Thank you for calling. Mr. Paulson and I are safely off Mt. Everest after a successful climb. For additional information on the climb, please call Paulson Global, Inc. I have no further comment.”
That would redirect those calls to Karen, who dealt with such requests daily.
The next call was to Leah. He braced himself as the telephone rang and almost felt a sense of relief as it switched over to voice mail.
“I’m in Bangkok and will be flying into Los Angeles,” he said. “I’ll call you from LA. If you still need my help, maybe we can discuss it over the telephone.” Jack hung up and leaned against the wall.
That’s the way to handle it, he thought with satisfaction. No need to hop on a plane and come running every time she calls. Jack hesitated, and then the truth washed over him.
When she called, he always came running.
CHAPTER 8
The Southwest Airlines Boeing 737 touched down at Albuquerque International Airport in the early evening. Jack walked cautiously up the jet-way, through security, and looked around for Leah among the crowd of families searching for their loved ones.
He spotted her leaning against a railing. She wore her trademark faded jeans and a colored T-shirt with a denim jacket. Her long, thick auburn hair flowed down over the jacket and she brushed it back in a way that caused Jack to blink painfully with regret.
Christ, she hasn’t changed a bit. Jack suppressed the sudden and unexpected urge to take her up in hug.
“Good to see you, Climber.” Leah eyed him warily with soft brown eyes.
“You’re looking fit.” Jack felt the warmth spread over his face and hoped it didn’t show. He thought about offering a hug, but his body froze. “Well, it’s been a while,” he said, instantly regretting his casual tone.
She nodded, spun, and walked toward the baggage claim.
He hustled to keep up. “Where are we headed?”
“First to Maria’s Restaurant for dinner; Garrett’s meeting us there.”
“Then?”
“You’re climbing down into a cliff dwelling and taking a look at some pictographs.”
“In the Gila National Wilderness?” he asked. “I believe that qualifies as a felony with serious jail time attached if we’re caught.”
Leah stopped and turned around at the entrance to the airport, flashing her characteristic grin. “If you don’t have the balls, say so right now and you can get right back on the airplane.”
CHAPTER 9
Jack was sipping on his first margarita when he felt a tap on the shoulder.
Garrett Moon stood behind Jack, a wide smile on his face. “What are you two lovebirds doing?” He shook Jack’s hand with a firm shake. “Good to see you again. Leah hasn’t been the same since you left.”
Jack stood up. “You’re still letting her drag you through every cliff and cavern in the Southwest?”
“She’s one hell of an archeologist,” Garrett replied, “even if she is as stubborn as a canyon mule.”
“You guys haven’t matured a bit,” Leah said, unable to suppress the grin. She signaled to their waitress.
Jack waited until the waitress had taken their orders and walked away from the table before saying, “This granite’s not uncommon around the interior mountain ranges, but,” he looked to Garrett, “like I told Leah, it’s a big continent. Unless you know where the rock came from, you could spend a lifetime searching.” Jack glanced in Leah’s direction. “Any chance your relationship with the government might thaw?”
“Not likely.”
Once the waitress had delivered the steaming hot plates of spicy Mexican food and walked away, Jack said, “Pictographs?”
Leah stopped eating and set the fork down on the plate. “Nothing like I’ve ever seen before.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about it, and it occurred to me that the landmarks in the pictographs might not be local features.”
Jack looked at her in disbelief. “You mean…?”
She nodded. “And if I’m right, they could help us find the right part of Antarctica.”
Garrett pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet and placed it on the table. “Dinner is on me tonight.” He reached out and shook Jack’s hand. “Like I said, good to see you again.”
Jack stood slowly, still recovering from the implications of Leah’s bizarre claim. “It does kind of seem like old times — especially here at the restaurant.”
Leah lifted her jacket from the chair. “You two have plenty of time to get reacquainted. I need some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.” She spun and headed for the exit.