Part 46 (2/2)

The youngest girl added solemnly, ”But, Daddy-you should have heard the naughty things they said when they opened a keg and saw what they'd bought.”

VEIKKO: Hagen.

HAGEN: Right here, keed. Hold on a sec while I freshen my drink.

VEIKKO: Lucky sod. The only liquor we have left here is designated medicinal.

HAGEN: Stick to herb tea or you'll end like your old man.

VEIKKO: Better like mine than like yours, a.s.shole.

HAGEN: All right, all right, you win that one hands down. Now cool it and report. It's been too long.

VEIKKO: [Edited replay.] HAGEN: [Laugher.] I hope Irena's well fixed for escargot recipes.

VEIKKO: Listen, given a choice of climbing that mountain or staying here in base camp eating naked snails, I'll take the creepies a la mode every time. You should eyeball this Monte Rosa monster! It's not an isolated peak, it's a whole b.l.o.o.d.y range-like the wall of the world's edge, dripping glaciers.

Who would've thought there'd be so much snow in the Pliocene? And it just shoots up out of the Po Valley flats: instant Alps-below sea level to nine thousand high inside of sixty kilometres.

HAGEN: Give me a firm position on your camp.

VEIKKO: 45-50-31 north, 7-48-13 east, 4322.3 metres up. We must be six kloms from the main summit as the crow flies.

Too friggerty bad we're not crows! I'm gasping like a beached porpoise from alt.i.tude sickness. Andre fainted three times this afternoon, and some of the King's Men look like they'd like to. I think their torcs keep 'em going. But the Tanu seem to feel fine, and Basil's b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are downright perky.

Wimborne calls this place Camp Bettaforca. There's snow but we're cosy enough in the decamole huts except for the anoxia.

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d quacks say we'll probably get acclimatized in a few days.

HAGEN: Any fresh info on plans for the actual climb?

VEIKKO: The big conference is tomorrow. The climbing party doesn't actually have to reach the top of the sucker, you understand. Just kind of circle around to the other side where the aircraft are parked. The idea is to melt one out, fly it back here, then ferry up the rest of the folks and shuttle off to Goriah. It shouldn't be too tough getting the birds operational. After all, they haven't been on the mountain all that long-just since the end of July. The hard part is reaching the aircraft with the first a.s.sault team. Wimborne will use a kind of relay operation with support groups to get the princ.i.p.al climbing party over the top.

HAGEN: None of our people are involved in the climbing, are they?

VEIKKO: Well, Buckmaster and Collins volunteered. You know them.

HAGEN: G.o.ddam dips.h.i.+ts! Tell 'em to forget it! None of our people risk their lives unless there's no alternative.

VEIKKO: Amen.

HAGEN: Who's slated for the princ.i.p.al a.s.sault team?

VEIKKO: Not sure. But they'll all be b.a.s.t.a.r.ds except for the boss Tanu, Bleyn, and one of his exotic underlings. Going along to make sure the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds don't nip off with the birds. You should see the boots this guy Nirupam whipped up for the climbing high pocketers: big enough to boil a chicken in! G.o.d, I wish we had some chicken ...

HAGEN: While this climbing is going on, the rest of you just sit tight and wait?

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