"I suppose."
Jonathan dropped the apple back into the basket. It had been a gift from Ben. "Tell me. Why did you come up and get me off the face? If I had died with the others, you would have been home free."
Ben smiled and shook his head. "Don't imagine for a minute I didn't consider it, ol' buddy."
"But you're not the killer type?"
"That, and I owed you one for the time you walked me down off the Aconcagua." Ben turned squarely to Jonathan. "What happens now?"
"Nothing."
"You wouldn't bullshit an old buddy, would you?"
"The CII people are satisfied that they have their man. And I don't see any reason to disabuse them. Especially since I've already been paid."
"What about you? I know how you are about friends who let you down."
"I don't have any friends who have let me down."
Ben thought that over. "I see. Tell me, ol' buddy. Do you have any friends at all?"
"Your solicitude is touching, Ben. When do you catch your plane?"
"I've got to get going right now."
"Fine."
Ben paused at the door. "Take care of yourself, ol' buddy."
"Thanks for the fruit."
Jonathan stared at the door for several minutes after it closed behind Ben. He felt hollow inside. For several days he had known that he would never climb again. He had lost his nerve. And Ben was gone. And Jemima was gone. And he was tired of counting holes in the ceiling.
He turned the light off and the blue of late evening filled the room. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
What the hell. He didn't need them. He didn't need any of it. When he got back to the States, he was going to sell the goddam church.
But not the paintings!
Copyright © 1972 by Trevanian. Published by Avon books. ISBN: 0-380-00176-4