lovely face was lined with sorrow. He could see that it hurt her to
have to speak to him so bluntly. She came across the room, put one hand
to his face. "You've surrendered your dignity and your selfrespect.
Piece by piece." Her voice was low, almost a whisper; it wavered.
"I'm afraid for you, afraid that if you don't stop throwing it away,
you'll have nothing left. Nothing."
"Connie . . ." He wanted to cry.
But he had no tears for Graham Harris. He knew precisely what he had
done to himself. He had no pity; he despised the man he'd become.
He felt that, deep inside, he had always been a coward, and that his
fall on Mount Everest had given him an excuse to retreat into fear.
Why else had he resisted going to a psychiatrist? Every one of his
doctors had suggested psychoanalysis. He suspected that he was
comfortable in his fear; and that possibility sickened him. "I'm afraid
of my own shadow.
I'd be no good to you out there.
Dem P- Koontr "You're not so frightened today as you were yesterday,"
she said tenderly. "Tonight, you've coped damned well.
What about ' the elevator shaft? This morning, the thought of going
down that ladder would have overwhelmed you."
He was trembling.
"This is your chance," she said. "You can overcome the fear. I know
you can."
He licked his lips nervously. He went to the pile of gear in front of
the photographic backdrop. "I wish I could be half as sure of me as you
are."
Following him, she said, "I understand what I'm asking of you. I know
it'll be the hardest thing you've ever done."
He remembered the fall vividly. He could close his eyes any time-even
in a crowded room-and experience it again: his foot slipping, pain in
the chest as the safety harness tightened around him, pain abruptly
relieved as the rope snapped, breath caught like an unchewed lump of
meat in his throat, then floating and floating and floating.
The fall was only three hundred feet, and it had ended in a thick
cushion of snow; it had seemed a mile.
She said, "If you stay here, you'll die; but it'll be an easier death.
The instant Bollinger sees you, he'll shoot to kill. He won't hesitate.
It'll be over within a second for you." She took hold of his hand. "But
it won't be like that for me."
He looked up from the equipment. Her gray eyes radiated a fear as
primal and paralyzing as his own.
"Bollinger will use me," she said.
He was unable to speak.
"He'll cut me," she said.
Unbidden, an image of Edna Mowry came to him. She had been holding her
own bloody navel in her hand.
"He'll disfigure me."
"Maybe-"
"He's the Butcher. Don't forget. Don't forget who he is.
What he is."
"God help me," he said.
"I don't want to die. But if I have to die, I don't want it to be like
that." She shuddered. "If we're not going to make the climb, if we're
just going to wait for him here, then I want you to kill me. Hit me
across the back of the head with something. Hit me very hard."
Amazed, he said, "What are you talking about?"
"Kill me before Bollinger can get to me. Graham, you owe me that much.
You've got to do it."
"I love you," he said weakly. "You're everything. There's nothing else
for me." She was somber, a mourner at her own execution.
"If you love me, then you understand why you've got to kill me."
"I couldn't do it."
"We don't have much time," she said. "Either we get ready for the climb
right nowr you kill me. Bollinger will be here any minute."
Glancing at the main entrance to see if anyone was trying to get in,
Bollinger crossed the marble floor and opened the white door. He stood
at the bottom of the north stairs and listened for footsteps. There were
none. No footsteps, no voices no noise at all. He peered up the
narrow, open core of the shaft, but he didn't see anyone moving
alongside the switchback railing.
He went to the south stairs. Those too were deserted.
He looked at his watch. 10:38.
Running some of Blake's verses through his mind to calm himself, he went
to the elevator. 31 Well-made boots are essential to a serious climber.
They should be five to seven inches high, crafted from the best grade of
leather, lined with leather, preferably hand-sewn, with foam-padded
tongues. Most important of all, the soles should be hard and stiff,
with tough lugs made of Vibram.
Graham was wearing just such a pair of boots. They were a perfect fit,
more like gloves than footwear. Although putting them on and lacing
them up brought him closer to the act that he regarded with terror, he
found the boots strangely comforting, reassuring. His familiarity with
them, with climbing gear in general, seemed like a touchstone against
which he could test for the old Graham Harris, test for a trace of the
courage he'd once shown.
Both pairs of boots in the pile of equipment were four sizes too large
for Connie. She couldn't wear either of them. If she stuffed paper
into the toes and along the " sides, she would feel as if she were
wearing blocks of concrete; and she would surely misstep at some crucial
point in the climb.
Fortunately, they found a pair of klettershoes that fitted well enough.
The klettershoe-an anglicization of Kletterschuh, German for "climbing
shoe"-was lighter, tighter, more flexible, and not so high as standard
climbing boots. The sole was of rubber, and the welt did not protrude,
making it possible for the wearer to gain toeholds on even the narrowest
ledges.
Although they would have to serve for want of something better, the
klettershoes weren't suited for the climb that lay ahead. Because they
were made of suede and were not waterproof, they should be used'only in
the fairest weather, never in a snowstorm.
To protect her feet from becoming wet and from the inevitable frostbite,
Connie wore both socks and plastic binding. The socks were thick, gray,
woolen; they came to mid-calf. The plastic was ordinarily used to seal
up the dry food that a climber carried in his rucksack.
Graham had wrapped her feet in two sheets of plastic, securing the
waterproof material at her ankles with rubber bands.
They were both wearing heavy, bright red nylon parkas with hoods that
tied under the chin. Between the outer nylon surface and the inner
nylon lining, his jacket was fitted with man-made insulation, sufficient
for autumn climbing but not for the cold that awaited them tonight. Her
parka was much better-although he hadn't explained that to her for fear
she would insist that he wear it-because it was insulated with one him
EL dred percent goose down. That made it the warmest garment, for its
size and weight, that she could have worn.
over the parka, each of them was wearing a Klettergiirtel, a climbing
harness, for protection in the event of a fall. This piece of equipment
was a great improvement over the waistband that climbers had once used,
for in a fall the band sometimes jerked so tight that it damaged the
heart and lungs. The simple leather harness distributed the pressure
over the entire body trunk, reducing the risk of a severe injury and
virtually guaranteeing the climber that he would not turn upside down.
Connie was impressed by the Klettergiirtel. As he strapped her into it,
she said, "It's perfect insurance, isn't it? Even if you fall, it
brings you up short."
Of course, if she didn't just slip or misplace her foot, if instead the
rope broke, and if she was on a single line, the harness would not stop
her fall. However, Connie didn't have to worry about that, for he was