The picnic-style lunch wasn't bad. It turned out that several of the guys were pretty good cooks and they whipped up potato salad and sandwiches. The banter was what you would expect from young men, ribald jokes, talk about sex. I got the impression that most of them were straight, sexually speaking. It shouldn't be too bad rooming with one of them. They joked about James, too, but they all seemed to respect his business acumen.
I had about decided that I should fit into this group without much of a problem. After lunch we did two more climbs, with about the same difficulty level as the second one we had done in the morning. We were resting in the shade and watching others climb when Stan appeared.
"Karl," he said, heartily, slapping me on the back, "I hear you're a natural rock climber, a regular mountain goat."
"Not quite," I said. "I think I'm a bit too big to make this a career. The more compact guys seem to have an advantage."
Stan, who qualified as one of the more compact guys, said, "In some ways, yes. Perhaps in balance, as an example. But with your long arms and legs you have an advantage in reaching for handholds and footholds. I know an interesting climb I'd like you to try. Come with me; I'll be your partner."
"I'm not sure I'm up for another one," I said. "I'm discovering muscles I never knew I had. And they are rebelling against having to support my weight with my knees constantly bent and my body in awkward positions I've never been in before."
"Not even when having sex? Well, just let me show it to you. If you don't feel up to it you don't have to do it."
Stan said this with enough of an edge in his voice so that if I refused it might be interpreted as weakness on my part. Since I was the new guy I had to be careful. I got up slowly-I did have sore muscles-and followed him along the stony path that led between the rocky pinnacles that gave the monument its name.
After ten minutes of ups and downs and having to watch my step, I said, "You must know this place pretty well."
"Well enough," Stan replied. "This is my fifth trip. But take heart. We're almost there."
Something had been bothering me about Stan for several days, but it had remained fuzzy. The uneasy feeling came back to me now that I was alone with him. It had started on the street in San Francisco-when he had picked me up in his BMW. That was it. It had to do with the knowledge that Stan had made a lot of money with Tartan stock options.
The cliff he stopped in front of was higher than anything I'd tackled so far. The slope at the bottom wasn't so bad, but it became almost vertical at the top. As I mentally gauged the difficulty I felt tired just thinking about doing it.
"It isn't as bad as it looks," Stan said. "In fact, the bottom part is no harder than anything you've already done. If you don't want to do the top part, just tell me and I'll lower you back down."
If anybody else had suggested I attempt this I probably would have refused, but for some reason with Stan I thought I had to prove something. Maybe it would give me an edge over him if I made it to the top. Maybe it was his suggestion that I couldn't do it that gave me determination. I decided to prove him wrong.
As with some of the other rocks, there was an easy walking route to the top. Stan followed that and lowered the rope to me. By now I was an expert at tying bowlines. I pulled the loop snug around my waist and called, "On belay."
If anything, the first part proved to be easier than the rocks I had already climbed. I temporarily forgot my aches and went about the business of climbing. I didn't have to worry because Stan was belaying me from above.
I saw another mental picture of Stan: talking about how much James had liked Ned. Stan had acted-what? Jealous? Could Stan have been jealous of Ned? Jealous of the fact that James and Ned had known each other all their lives. That Ned might again assume a major role in the life of James?
I concentrated on my climbing and made it to the vertical pitch in just a few minutes. But there I got stuck.
I stood on a narrow ledge, with two decent handholds, so I wasn't in immediate danger. I searched the rock wall with my eyes, looking for additional handholds and footholds. Letting go with one hand at a time, I carefully felt along the rough surface, trying to detect cracks that I couldn't see because I had to keep my head close to the cliff face for balance.
A rock projected out from the face above me and just within my reach, but it was below an overhang. Even if I had been strong enough to pull myself up onto it I couldn't have kept my balance.
I also couldn't climb down. The irony of rock climbing is that you can climb up pitches that you could never climb down.
"How are you doing down there? You haven't moved for a while."
Stan's voice wasn't far above me. We were close enough to converse easily, even though I couldn't see him. Another picture came to me, the picture of the gangbanger called Rabbit giving me Stan's name. It all fit together now. I had thought James had ordered Ned's murder, but I had been wrong. Stan had paid to have Ned killed, not James. Stan had the money and he had the motive.
"I can't move. You'd better lower me down." I tried to keep any hint of panic out of my voice.
"You've almost made it. It would be a shame to stop now. I know the holds are there. You stay where you are. I'll go back down and spot the holds for you. I have a small pair of binoculars."
"Stan, don't go off belay. I can't stand here much longer." The palms of my hands were suddenly wet with sweat. I couldn't hold onto the rock with slippery hands.
"It'll just take me a minute to get to the bottom. Belay off."
I pressed my body against the face of the rock. One small shift of my weight would throw me off balance. That hadn't bothered me when I felt secure, but now my body became my enemy. My left leg started to tremble from having to support my weight in an awkward position. I tried to picture myself glued to the rock and to wipe out all other thoughts.
It was probably no more than a minute, although it seemed much longer, when I heard Stan's voice below me. I very cautiously bent my head and looked down. A wave of vertigo made me quickly raise my head. It was a long way to the bottom and there were jagged rocks below me.
"Karl," Stan called, "I'm looking for holds. Don't see too many. I guess you're right about that. The route you should have followed is more to the left, away from the overhang."
"Too late now," I said. "Please get the hell back up here and lower me down."
"I don't think so."
"What!"
"This is part of your initiation. You have to find your own way down."
"Bullshit! That's fucking bullshit! Get your ass up here."
"Relax, Karl. You don't want to panic. I'm sure you can do it. At least I'm giving you a chance. That's more than Ned had."
"What does Ned have to do with it? Get up here!"
"I couldn't give Ned a chance. He was moving in on my territory. He and James were too buddy-buddy; they went back too far together."
"You paid to have Ned killed." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Of course. What better way to utilize my stock-option gains than to ensure that I'll remain top dog with James."
"Stan, you're sick. We can get help for you."
"Not too sick to know that you're also trying to horn in on my territory. Horn in, get it? Even staying in the house with James. I was going to shoot you the other night when I followed you, but I decided that was too desperate; I would have been caught. But an accident…that could happen to anybody."
"You can't get away with it."
"Of course I can. I'm going back to the campsite now. I'll say that we got separated, but that you are an experienced outdoor person and can find your way back. When it's time to leave and you haven't shown up I'll volunteer to stay behind and look for you-along with a couple of others for witnesses. We'll locate your body before dark. You tried to climb a cliff by yourself and fell."