“Loud and clear, Chilton Two,” the radioman replied.
“Beginning descent and reconnaissance. Where is Captain Delaney?”
“Standing by with hand-held mike. On the porch. He can hear you.”
“Top of rock covered with snow. Higher mound in the middle. I guess that’s Blank. No movement. We’re going down.”
The men on the porch shielded their eyes from sun glare to stare upward. The ’copter, a noisy dragonfly, circled lower, then slowed, slipping sideways, hovered directly over the top of the rock.
“Chilton One from Chilton Two.”
“We’ve got you, Chilton Two.”
“No sign of life. No sign of anything. Our downdraft isn’t moving the snow cover. Probably frozen over. We’ll start the descent.”
“Roger.”
They watched the chopper hanging almost motionless in the air. They saw the wide cargo door open. It seemed a long time before a small figure appeared at the open door and stepped out into space, dangling from the cable, a padded leather horse collar around his chest, under his arms. The shotgun was held in his right hand; his left was on the radio strapped to his chest.
“Chilton One from Chilton Two. Chilton Three is now going down. We will stop at six feet for a radio check.”
“Chilton Two from Chilton One. Delaney here. We can see you. Any movement on top of the rock?”
“None at all, Captain. Just an outline of a body. He’s under the snow. Radio check now. Chilton Three from Chilton Two: How do you read?”
They watched the man dangling on the cable beneath the ’copter. He swung lazily in slow circles.
“Chilton Two from Chilton Three. I’m getting you loud and clear.” Farber’s voice was breathless, almost drowned in the rotor noise.
“Chilton Three from Chilton Two. Repeat, how do you read me?”
“Chilton Two, I said I was getting you loud and clear.”
“Chilton Three from Chilton Two. Repeat, are you receiving me?”
Captain Delaney swore softly, moved his hand-held mike closer to his lips.
“Chilton Three from Chilton One. Do you read me?”
“Christ, yes, Chilton One. Loud and clear. What the hell’s going on? Do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Chilton Three. I’ll get right back to you. Chilton Two from Chilton One.”
“Chilton Two here. Barnes speaking.”
“Delaney here. Major, we’re in communication with Chilton Three. He can read us and we’re reading him. He can hear you, but apparently you’re not getting him.”
“Son of a bitch,” Barnes said bitterly. “Let me try once more. Chilton Three from Chilton Two, do you read me? Acknowledge.”
“Yes, I read you, Chilton Two, and I’m getting fuckin’ cold.”
“Chilton Two from Chilton One. We heard Chilton Three acknowledge. Did you get it?”
“Not a word,” Barnes said grimly. “Well, we haven’t got time to pull him back up and check out the goddamn radios. I'll relay all orders through you. Understood?”
“Understood,” Delaney replied “Chilton Three from Chilton One. You are not being read by Chilton Two. But they read us. We’ll relay all orders through Chilton One. Understood?”
“Understood, Chilton One. Who's this?”
“Captain Delaney.”
“Captain, tell them to lower me down onto the fuckin’ rock. I’m freezing my ass off up here.”
“Chilton Two from Chilton One. Lower away.”
They watched the swinging figure hanging from the cable. Suddenly it dropped almost three feet, then brought up with a jerk, Farber swinging wildly.
“Goddamn it!” he screamed. “Tell ’em to take it fuckin’ easy up there. They almost jerked my fuckin’ arms off.” Delaney didn’t bother relaying that. He watched, and in a few minutes the cable began to run out slowly and smoothly. Farber came closer to the top of Devil’s Needle.
“Chilton Three from Chilton One. Any movement?”
“No. Not a thing. Just snow. Mound in the middle. Snow drifted up along one side. I’m coming down. About ten feet. Tell them to slow. Slow the fuckin’ winch, goddamn it!”
“Chilton Two from Chilton One. Farber is close. Slow the winch. Slow, slow.”
“Roger, Chilton One. We see him. He’s almost there. A little more. A little more…
“Chilton Three here. I’m down. Feet are down.”
“How much snow?”
“About an inch to three inches where it’s drifted. I need more fuckin’ cable slack to unshackle the horse collar.”
“Chilton Two, Farber needs more cable slack.”
“Roger.”
“Okay, Chilton One. I’ve got it unsnapped. Tell them to get the fuck out of here; they’re damn near blowing me off.”
“Chilton Two, collar unshackled. You can take off.”
The ’copter tilted and circled away, the cable slanting back beneath it. It began to make wide rings about Devil’s Needle.
“Chilton Three, you there?” Delaney asked.
“I’m here. Where else?”
“Any sign of life?”
“Nothing. He’s under the snow. Wait’ll I get this fuckin’ collar off.”
“Is he breathing? Is the snow over his mouth melted? Is there a hole?”
“Don’t see anything. He’s covered completely with the fuckin’ snow.”
“Brush it off.”
“What?”
“Brush the snow away. Brush all the snow off him.”
“With what, Captain? I got no gloves.”
“With your hands-what do you think? Use your hands. Scrape the snow and ice away.”
They heard Farber’s heavy breathing, the clang of shotgun on rock, some muffled curses.
“Chilton One from Chilton Two. What’s going on?”
“He’s brushing the snow away. Farber? Farber, how’s it coming?”
“Captain, he’s naked!”
Delaney took a deep breath and stared at Forrest and Sneed. But their eyes were on Devil’s Needle.
“Yes, he’s naked,” he spoke into the mike as patiently as he could. “You knew that; you saw the photos. Now clean him off.”
“Jesus, he’s cold. And hard. So fuckin’ hard. God, is he white.”
“You got him cleaned off?”
“I–I’m-”
“What the hell’s wrong?”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“So be sick, you shithead!” Delaney roared. “Haven’t you ever seen a dead man before?”
“Well…sure, Captain,” the shaky voice came hesitantly, “but I never touched one.”
“Well, touch him,” Delaney shouted. “He’s not going to bite you, for Chrissakes. Get his face cleaned off first.”
“Yeah…face…sure…Jesus Christ.”
“Now what?”
“His fuckin’ eyes are open. He’s looking right at me.”
“You stupid sonofabitch,” Delaney thundered into the mike. “Will you stop acting like an idiot slob and do your job like a man?”
“Chilton One from Chilton Two. Barnes here. What’s the problem?”
“Farber’s acting up,” Delaney growled. “He doesn’t enjoy touching the corpse.”
“Do you have to rough him?”
“No, I don’t,” Delaney said. “I could sing lullabies to him. Do you want that stiff down or don’t you?”
Silence.
“All right,” Barnes said finally. “Do it your way. When I get down, you and I will have a talk.”
“Any time, anywhere,” Delaney said loudly, and saw that Forrest and Sneed were staring at him. “Now get off my back and let me talk to this infant. Farber, are you there? Farber?”
“Here,” the voice came weakly.
“Have you got him brushed off?”
“Yes.”
“Put your fingers on his chest. Lightly. See if you can pick up a heartbeat or feel any breathing. Well…?”
After a moment: “No. Nothing, Captain.”
“Put your cheek close to his lips.”
“What?”
“Put. Your. Cheek. Close. To. His. Lips. Got that?”
“Well…sure…”
“See if you can feel any breath coming out.”
“Jesus…”
“Well?”
“Nothing. Captain, this guy is dead, he’s fuckin’ dead.”
“All right. Get the horse collar on him, up around his chest, under his arms. Make sure the shackle connection is upward.”
They waited, all of them on the porch now straining their eyes to the top of Devil’s Needle. So were all the men in the compound, sentries, snipers, reporters. Still and TV cameras were trained on the rock. There was remarkably little noise, Delaney noted, and little movement. Everyone was caught in the moment, waiting…