“Okay, partner, I’m giving it my—”
Blood and sputum suddenly splattered on the ice in front of Paulson’s boots. “I’ve got to sit down, just for a second.”
“You can’t do that.” Jack tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “You know you can’t sit down. You do and you die.”
The billionaire took three more steps and coughed up more blood.
“Come on, Al. We’re getting close,” he pleaded. “Don’t give up on us now.” Jack tried to encourage him between deep breaths. “I can see Camp Four. We’re not far away.”
Paulson leaned against his ice axe. Blood dripped from between his cracked, frostbitten lips, and his eyes didn’t appear to focus.
“Don’t kill you and me both,” Jack said, trying a different tack. “If you stop, I’m going to die, too.”
Just as the billionaire appeared he might manage a step forward, he collapsed in a heap on the ice.
We’re both dead, Jack thought. Oddly, he felt at peace. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad to sit down. Paulson had bagged his summit; that’s all he really wanted.
Jack blinked and then ripped off his wool face mask. The biting cold cut into his face. He sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.
Don’t let the mountain make you a permanent resident.
His mind raced through a list of psychological motivational tools, and he decided to use the hard-line approach. “I’ll tell the entire world what a pansy-ass quitter you were,” he said, summoning up his best sneer.
Was that a glimmer in Paulson’s eyes?
“Go ahead and die on the mountain like a worthless piece of shit.”
Knockout punch.
“I’ll miss sitting around your pool at Devil’s Key; just me and Candice sipping margaritas.” He paused. “Laughing about how you flew her down to propose and then got food poisoning.”
The billionaire sat on the ice in a stupor, bloody drool freezing on the front of his parka.
“You won’t mind if I fly down myself and give her my condolences,” Jack whispered in his ear. “You were a lucky man. She’s got some kind of body.”
Paulson’s jaw clenched tight. He reached up and grabbed Jack by the neck. “You touch my wife and I’ll kick your ass.”
“You’re fucking dead, my friend,” Jack said. He shoved Paulson down onto the ice. “There’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
Paulson suddenly lurched to his knees and struggled to his feet. “I know what you’re trying to do. Just lead the way,” he said weakly. “If a piece of shit like you can make it down, I sure as hell can.”
Less than an hour later, Jack pointed down toward two tents. “Camp Four,” he said softly. The billionaire nodded in recognition, and a narrow smile escaped through his cracked and bleeding lips.
Paulson pulled himself into a tent and crawled into his sleeping bag.
Jack lit the stove and heated up powdered soup. After each had consumed two cups of the hot, nourishing liquid, Jack attached the billionaire’s regulator to one of several oxygen bottles the Sherpa team had stashed at the tent. He adjusted the flow rate to three liters per hour.
Jack took another oxygen bottle for himself and set the flow rate at two liters per hour. He pulled the sleeping bag up over his clothed body and fell into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER 7
Jack blinked as cold air and sunny skies met his sleep-crusted eyes. “Thank God,” he said softly. Light from a new dawn streamed into the tent. He crawled to the opening and looked out at blue sky. He pushed himself back into the tent and watched as Paulson struggled to sit up.
Paulson winced and reached for his mid section. “My ribs are killing me.”
“You were hacking all night.”
The billionaire dropped back down on his sleeping bag. “They’re on fire.”
Jack felt around Paulson’s rib cage. “You might have cracked a rib while coughing last night. Do the best you can to suck it up.”
“What do you think happened to Kent and Alex?”
“I tried to raise them on the radio.” Jack put on an unconvincing smile. “Maybe they kicked our ass and ended up back at camp three.”
“They were behind us. How could they summit and climb safely down to camp three?”
“Stranger things have happened on Everest.” Jack tried to sound more confident than he felt.
Paulson attempted a smile, but the pain in his ribs turned it into a twisted grimace. “I’ll forget those comments you made about my wife.”
Jack nonchalantly packed his gear. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
“That’s just about the only part of yesterday I do remember besides standing on the summit.”
Jack nodded. “Time to get out of here and back to civilization; what do you say?”
“I’m right behind you,” Paulson said, grunting while wedging himself into a sitting position.
Jack pulled their gear together, leaving the tents and empty oxygen bottles in camp. He would arrange to have the Sherpa’s remove the remaining gear.
By late afternoon, they were passing the first of the Australian summit teams making their way up to camp three.
“You guys see Kent Nash and Alex Stein, by any chance?” Jack asked.
The leader of the Aussie summit crew looked somber. “Sorry, not a sign and nothing on the radio….”
In the late afternoon, they walked into camp two to the shouts and cheers of climbers and Sherpa teams preparing for a shot at the summit. One of the Aussies from the second team ran up, a piece of white paper flapping in his glove.
“Are you Jack Hobson?”
“I’m Hobson.”
“I have a note from base camp, Mate. Someone’s been trying to get in touch with you.” The Australian paused. “Don’t you pack along the sat-phone?”
Jack shook his head. “My client is a purist. Truth is, he doesn’t want to be bothered by his employees.”
The Aussie smiled. “Well, this Sheila’s persistent, if nothing else. She called two or three times.”
Jack looked up in surprise. A woman had called?
“The info’s on the paper.”
Jack unfolded the stained sheet. It read:
For: Jack Hobson (Hobson/Paulson)
Please contact Dr. Leah Andrews
Call/E-Mail ASAP
He vividly remembered his last conversation with Leah. The topic had been Alan Paulson.
Paulson walked over. “What’s up?”
Jack managed a weak smile. “A call from Leah….”
“Uh oh….” The billionaire grinned. “Got to give her credit, plenty of spunk for someone her size.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I remember you saying she was recently unemployed. Maybe she’s developed a sudden taste for climbing?”
Jack chuckled. “I doubt that.” He pointed down the mountain. “We should be able to climb down through the Khumbu Icefall and make it to base camp by tomorrow afternoon — if your ribs are up too it.”
Paulson’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Damn, I was having so much fun telling anyone who’d listen about my summit experience, I forgot all about them.”
“Then let’s get a move on.”
“What are you doing with all that expensive equipment I bought?”
“I thought we might just donate it to the cause,” Jack said. “The Sherpa teams are always looking for new gear.”
Paulson nodded. “Assuming we don’t get killed by a block of ice the size of an apartment tomorrow, I promise you a five-star dinner in Kathmandu.”
Jack grinned. “I didn’t know there were any five-star restaurants in Kathmandu.”
The next morning, Jack led the billionaire down through the collection of building-sized ice seracs known as the Khumbu Icefall. Every season, climbers died when these massive hunks of ancient ice arbitrarily shifted.