"One last thing," Angsley said, and I could see the man's energies were failing fast. "The Sherpas, the mountain people, are fantastic guides and mountaineers. Like all Nepalese, they are full of superstitions, but they stay open minded. Convince them, and you can win them over. I've been having most of my trouble with a countryman of mine, a journalist from England who tailed me here. You know that breed. When they smell something hot, they're bloody bird dogs. Publicity at this time would wreck everything."
"I'll handle it," I said grimly. "I'll stop by tomorrow before I leave. You lie back and take it easy now."
The visit had done nothing to erase my grim, angry mood. Danders Trading Store turned out to have little that could fit me. From bits and scraps, he rounded up enough in my size to outfit me. Yak-hide and fur-lined boots, a heavy fur-lined parka, gloves and snowshoes. He had one good gun left and I took it, a lever action Marlin 336.
"I'm getting in new stock next month," Danders said to me. "I'm about cleaned out now, as you can see. But if you're coming back this way next month I'll have anything you want."
"Not if I can help it," I answered, paying him and loading everything into the heavy bag he furnished. I was walking out the door when I collided with a figure in a bright green nylon parka, the kind one sees on the ski slopes of the Swiss Alps. From under a furred, Tibetan hat, two bright and active blue eyes met mine. Pink cheeks set off a straight, thin nose on a pretty, frank face.
"Hello, Yank," she said in a very British voice. "I've been looking for you. I just left our friend Harry Angsley. My name's Hilary Cobb, Manchester Journal and Record."
Angsley hadn't said his journalist nemesis was a girl and a damned attractive one, as much as I could see. She wore slacks, which can hide a multitude of sins, but her legs were long and her breasts swelled the parka, an accomplishment of sorts. I watched her eyes rove over the purchases I was lugging out of the store.
"Going mountaineering?" she smiled, falling into step beside me. "I think we'd best have a little talk, Yank. I'd like to help you if you cooperate with me."
She was, I quickly saw, one of those active, aggressive British girls who torpedo their attractiveness by their bulldog determination to be completely unfeminine. I was in no mood for anything bothersome, and I decided to set her straight fast.
"I would forget all about me, honey," I said. "Make like you never saw me."
"The name is Hilary," she said crisply.
"Okay, Hilary," I said. "See how agreeable I am. Now you be agreeable. If I get a story for you, I'll tell you when I pass back this way."
"Don't be childish," she said snappishly. "Your being here is a story already. Besides, I've been around too long to buy that land of put-off. Something big is going on here. We figured that when we learned Harry Angsley had been sent here. So don't put on that big, fierce bear routine, old boy. Hilary doesn't scare off."
There was a hostility about her that bugged me at once. I've always disliked hostile women. They were always fighting the war between the sexes, usually inventing imaginary slights to fight over.
"I strongly suggest you cooperate with me," she said, flashing a dazzling smile. She had a pretty face despite her annoying attitude.
"That sounds like a threat, doll," I commented, trudging on through the snow-covered streets.
"Advice," she smiled again. "I could get in your hair in lots of ways, and I will unless you let me in on the ground floor, as you Yanks say. I can be thoroughly disagreeable."
"You're proving that, already," I growled. "Now, I'll give you a bit of advice, doll. Get lost."
She stopped and I walked on, feeling the glare of her eyes at my back. I always felt a sense of waste when I met a girl with her face and her attitude. Under other conditions, I would have tried changing that hostility into something warmer. Here, I was too generally annoyed to bother with anything but getting a room at the local inn. Angsley had told them to have one ready and they did, a small cubby with a square window. The inn was not much more than a large, converted stable but it was warm and a place to eat as darkness fell. I put the gear in my room and went downstairs for a bite, stepping over two chickens squatting on the lower step of the wooden stairway.
A fire leaped in the large fireplace to one side of the room. I had yak steak, which left a lot to be desired, and some of the Nepalese staple, good old-fashioned potatoes. The local brew, a warmish beer called chang, did little to excite me, and I switched to tea which was at least strong. I was midway into dinner when I saw her come down the staircase and head toward me. There were about twelve rooms at the inn and I should have figured she'd be in one of them. She wore a light-blue, wool sweater which her breasts pushed up and outwards sharply, and her legs were full but well shaped. Her hair, previously hidden by the hood of the parka, was ash blonde and short. I watched her approach and let my glance take her in, unabashedly lingering on the full swell of her breasts as she halted at the table.
She waited, eyes narrowed, coolly watching me, lips pursed.
"Finished?" she finally said.
"Nice equipment" I commented, between bites of my yak steak. "Too bad it's not on some other girl."
"You mean on your kind of girl."
"What's that?" I asked, smiling up at her.
"The kind that wants to stare into your bright, blue eyes and feel your muscles and be impressed," she said. "The land that caters to your ego by being willing to fall into bed with you at the drop of a hat."
"Make that trousers," I said.
"Have you thought about what I said?" she asked coldly.
"Not for a second, Hilary, honey," I said-
"You're going to remain uncooperative, I take it."
"You take it right, sweetie," I answered.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, turning and striding off.
"Hilary," I called after her. She halted instantly and turned around. "Don't talk like that," I grinned. "It scares me so I tremble. Notice?"
Her lips tightened and she stalked off. She did have good equipment, I reflected, watching her rear wiggle off. I wondered if anyone ever used it. I struggled through the rest of my yak steak, and was just finishing tea when I saw a kid enter and walk to the desk. The Nepalese there pointed in my direction and the kid came over to me. He thrust a note at me. I flipped it open quickly.
"Unexpected developments. Please get here as quickly as you can. Angsley."
I handed the kid a quarter, bundled up, and went into the night. The wind tore into me at once, and I watched a line of Sherpas moving into the village, their snow-crusted clothes evidence that they'd just come down from the mountain passes. At the hospital, the English-trained Nepalese nurse told me that Harry Angsley was asleep. I showed her the note and she frowned.
"Impossible, sir," she said. "Mr. Angsley's been asleep for hours. He's had no one here to take a message for him. In fact, the medication we give him after dinner usually sedates him through the night"
Now I was frowning, and a sinking feeling had seized the pit of my stomach. I ran all the way back to the inn, my lungs burning from the cold air as I reached my room. I flung open the door and the sinking feeling Sunk deeper. All the equipment I'd purchased was gone. Heavy parka, snow gear, boots, rifle, everything. Without it, I wouldn't stand a chance getting through Tesi Pass, where I was to meet the guide from the Leeunghi family. Without it, I wouldn't be going anywhere. Harry Angsley's words leaped up in my head. Don't underrate the place, he'd said. It comes at you in a hundred different ways. It was neat, even clever. No rough stuff, just a neat job of fencing me in. I looked at the door to my room. It was such a simple latch that a child could pry it open. Through the square little window I saw that it had started to snow. Shoving a heavy chair against the door, I went to bed. I'd pay another visit to Danders' store in the morning, but it was extremely unlikely he'd have a thing I could use, and I had to be on my way into that pass by noon. Maybe Angsley would have an idea.