Contracts, Matt Rogers [phonics reading books TXT] 📗

it wouldn’t faze him. He’d head further up the trail with Raya and the porter in tow. He’d use his tactical awareness as a trained combatant to make it as difficult as possible for a rescue to be attempted. That meant altitude. It was difficult enough to pull sick trekkers off the trail via helicopter — if King and Slater got themselves dropped closer to Gokyo Ri in an attempt to intercept the party coming down, word would spread quick, and Perry would disappear.

No, they needed to do it this way — posing as legitimate hikers, fooling the eyes that could very well be on them at any moment.

So that was the plan, but it could change at any moment. They still hadn’t met Parker, and King wanted to have a long chat to him about—

The jeep slowed and branched off onto a narrow path, tearing King away from his thoughts. His situational awareness heightened, and he glanced across to see Slater similarly concerned.

The sun disappeared behind the low cloud passing over the mountain.

Everything turned grey.

King realised, with sudden clarity, that they were in the cloud.

And the cold intensified.

He shrugged on a jacket as the jeep slowed at the mouth of a small cluster of buildings. Some were half-finished, mere construction projects in progress, but most were intact, made of stone and wood and surrounded by fields teeming with crops. It was a tiny commune in the mountains, but King couldn’t see a soul in sight, which made the whole place feel like a museum exhibit. Mostly because of the ethereal fog drifting through the village, obscuring their vision to only a few dozen feet in front of them. Driving in the cloud would be a nightmare.

The jeep pulled to a halt in the grey fog and the driver killed the engine.

In the sudden quiet, King said, ‘What are we doing here?’

Utsav peered over his shoulder. ‘Lunch.’

‘Right,’ Slater said, but he was similarly tense.

Utsav laughed. ‘You two are serious men. You relax, hey? We eat here. Then we go.’

‘We have to be serious,’ King said. ‘It’s our job.’

‘Now it is job to eat.’

With another hollow laugh, Utsav pushed the passenger door open and dropped out into the dewy grass.

The driver followed a step behind. He missed his door handle on the first go, and reached for it again. In the interim, he threw a glance over his shoulder with a half-smile of indifference.

When his hand clasped the door handle again, it was shaking.

King sat deathly still.

Watching.

Analysing.

Weighing it all up.

He said, ‘You got something to tell us?’

It was loud in the sudden silence of the cabin. The driver looked over his shoulder, flashed a sheepish grin, and shrugged.

‘No English,’ Slater said.

The driver pointed to him, and half-nodded.

King muttered, ‘Right. No English.’

The driver flashed a thumbs up.

He was definitely nervous.

Could be a coincidence. Could be because of the presence of American operatives, who weren’t your ordinary run-of-the-mill trekkers. They were cold hard men with cold hard gazes, and they meant business. Maybe that was enough to throw the guy off. Maybe he could subliminally sense that he was no longer in the civilian sphere.

Or maybe not.

King had survived half his career based on “maybe not.”

The driver’s instincts seemed to kick in, and he paused with his palm on the handle, looking expectantly over his shoulder. He seemed to think it might be courteous for his guests to get out first.

King gestured to the driver’s door. ‘Please. After you.’

The driver got out. He opened the door and pivoted and stepped down into the fog. He stretched his limbs. He nodded to Utsav.

Nothing happened.

King and Slater sat there, saying nothing, listening to everything.

Finally Slater said, ‘You okay?’

‘Just a hunch.’

‘We do need to eat…’

‘Where is everybody?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It’s too rundown. Too … empty.’

‘Have you looked out the window at all over the last six hours?’

King hesitated, then relented. ‘Just keep your guard up.’

‘You don’t need to tell me to do that.’

King popped the door and slid out of the jeep. The grass squelched underfoot, and the chill bit into his chest. He shivered involuntarily. On the other side of the car, he heard Slater mirroring his actions.

Utsav watched them from a distance. He said, ‘Okay?’

King nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘This way. Time to eat. Dal bhat sound good.’

Dal bhat. The dish of rice, lentils and vegetables favoured by all the Nepali guides and porters. They called it “twenty-four-hour-power,” and ate it for practically every meal on the trail. It hit all the nutritional requirements they needed.

King remembered those details from a brief conversation the night before.

He started to wonder if he really was paranoid after all.

Utsav and the driver led them past the rundown houses draped in fog. They didn’t see a soul. Up the back of the village, they found a long low building, mostly intact, with an empty shopfront skewered into one side. There were Cokes and Sprites and Mars bars and packets of crisps on display.

Trail food.

King said, ‘Where is everybody?’

‘Inside,’ Utsav said. ‘Cold out here.’

Sure enough, soft yellow light glowed in a couple of the windows. The building had the same aura as a mess hall, and King thought he could smell food.

He nodded. ‘Okay.’

Utsav ushered him toward an open doorway. There was no light emanating from that particular entrance. It was a dark gaping maw.

King said, ‘You first.’

Beside him, Slater rolled his eyes.

‘Relax, would you?’ Slater said. ‘We won’t get anywhere if you spend the whole trek like this.’

‘We haven’t started trekking yet.’

‘You know what I mean.’

Utsav smiled and gestured to Slater. ‘Please. It is customary for guest to go first.’

Slater nodded and turned to King. ‘See?’

Then he strode forward and disappeared inside the building.

Ustav followed.

Then it was just King and the driver, alone outside.

It was murky, and cold, and silent.

King said, ‘You first. I insist.’

The driver shrugged, and turned, and made for the entrance.

Then he paused, too quickly, too suspiciously, and looked left.

King followed the trajectory and saw the flicker of a silhouette against the corner of the building.

He took off at