Ben was missing most of the rhetoric. He couldn’t seem to get past the part about the Greatest Physical Challenge You Have Ever Faced.
Crichton lowered his voice and adopted a sepulchral tone. “Our office has been visited with great sadness this week. One of our own, Howard Hamel, a trusted, faithful colleague, has been taken from us for reasons that remain unclear. And yet, there is always a balance in the universe. For every day, a night. For every birth, a death. For every yin, a yang. And just as we are grieved to lose Howard Hamel, we are blessed to gain Benjamin Kincaid. Ben, stand up for a moment.”
Ben’s throat went dry. Mortified, he pushed himself to his feet. A rather tepid round of applause followed.
“Now hit the sack tonight, as early as possible. You’ll need your strength tomorrow, and your wits, so don’t stay up all night telling dirty jokes. Tomorrow morning, at six A.M. sharp, you will have your chance to be all that you can be, as you make your proactive assault on the High Course. God, I envy you. Good luck.”
16
BEN LEANED AGAINST a tree trunk, strips of thin neon webbing wrapped every which way around his pelvis and backside.
“How do I look?” Ben asked.
“Like a chic mountain climber,” Christina answered.
“Very macho. But I think you got the Swiss seat wrong.”
The Swiss seat was the name given to the particular manner in which the webbing was wound around a belayer so he could be linked relatively painlessly to the belay line. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ben said. “It’s very complicated.”
“True,” Christina replied. “And Crichton only went over it about fifteen times. Here, let me.” She bent down in front of Ben and started retying his seat.
“Thanks. By the way, you look sharp in those cutoffs. But I know at least one gentleman who will be crushed that you’re not wearing skintight spandex.”
“I wonder who that would be,” Christina muttered. “So what do you think of DARE so far?”
“Well, as macho outdoor get-in-touch-with-yourself retreats go, I suppose it’s better than a bunch of naked men beating drums in the forest.”
She relooped the main cord around Ben’s waist. “There, you’re fixed.”
“And just in time.” Ben pointed at Crichton, who was crossing the top of the hill with some belaying equipment. He and Chuck were engaged in a serious-looking conversation. Probably another violation of the no-work-weekend rule, Ben thought.
“All right, DARErs,” Crichton said, stepping into their midst, “assemble front and center.”
Doug, Herb, and Candice disassembled their conversational huddle and looked raptly his way. Shelly, predictably enough, had been given lunch duty. She was spreading mayonnaise on sandwich bread, but when Crichton gave out the call to arms, she wrapped everything up and joined the rest of the group.
“It’s time to confront the High Course,” Crichton announced. “Follow me.” Ben, Christina, and the rest of the Apollo legal crew followed Crichton across the top of the hill and down toward a nearby valley surrounded by tall oak trees.
“Boy, just look at him,” Herb whispered to Ben. “He says march and just assumes everyone will march. Doesn’t even look behind to see if we’re following. How arrogant.”
“Still stinging from last night, Herb?”
“I don’t like my career being threatened.”
Ben nodded. He saw Rob marching alongside. “Have you ever done this before?” Ben asked.
“Oh, sure,” Rob replied.
“And?”
“Not to worry. Piece of cake. You’ll do fine. Unless, of course, you have a problem with heights.”
“A problem with heights?” Ben whispered. “I’m terrified of heights. I can’t ride an escalator without getting sick. I had a panic attack once in a stairwell!”
“In that case, I predict you’re in big trouble.”
They descended into the valley. The trees formed an almost perfect circle, closing off the central meadow. Ben saw various wires and poles stretching between trees about sixty feet up in the air, and something that looked like a gigantic ladder hanging almost to me ground.
“Surely we’re not going up where all those wires and other gizmos are?” Ben asked nervously.
Rob smiled, but didn’t answer.
“This is the High Course,” Crichton announced, for the benefit of those who hadn’t managed to figure it out for themselves. “The general principles of belaying should be clear to you from yesterday’s exercises. Remember, you must overcome that me-against-them mentality. Teamwork is critical. One partner, the captain, remains on the ground, holding tight to your belay line. The line reaches up to the high wire, cycles through the wheel lock for support, then descends to me carabiner on your Swiss seat. It’s like a gigantic pulley system. As long as you’re harnessed to the line, and your captain doesn’t let go, you’re perfectly safe, whether you’re sixty feet in the air or six hundred feet in the air.”
“But what if you’re afraid of heights?” Ben asked quietly.
“Get over it.” Crichton walked to the large wood-and-wire ladder and pointed like a game show model. “This is the giant’s ladder. It is the initial means of assault. Standing on this tree stump, you grab the bottom rung of the ladder.” Crichton demonstrated, looping his hands around the four-by-four wooden plank he called the bottom rung. Then, leaping into the air, he swung his legs around the plank and pulled himself on top. Balancing himself by one of the two wires connecting the planks, he pulled himself upright. “Easy, isn’t it? And all you have to do is repeat that nine more times, and you’ll be sixty feet in the air.”
“Nine more times?” Ben felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. “I don’t think I could do that once.”
“If you simply can’t pull yourself up by your arms,” Crichton said, narrating as he climbed, “you can brace one foot against the connecting bolts on the wires. But that’s strictly for wimps and over-seventies.”
Ben grimaced. “Seventy months, I hope he means.”
Christina smiled. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m never gonna make it up that thing.”
“I’m inclined to agree. By the way, Ben, have I mentioned recently what a brilliant idea this new job was?”
“Cheap, Christina. Very cheap.”
At the top of the giant’s ladder, Crichton pulled himself upright between two taut wires and sidestepped to a nearby tree. Crawling sideways down the tree, he lowered himself onto a small wooden ledge. “From here you can attack the Burma bridge. Three ropes stretched between two trees—the simplest bridge known to man—yet perfectly effective. If you have the strength to make the crossing. Remember, push out with your arms against the two higher ropes, and step toe-to-toe on the low rope.”
“I’ll remember,” Ben murmured. “I’ll remember.”
“After you cross the Burma bridge, the next step is to walk across a telephone pole connecting one tree to another. A simple balancing trick. If it were on the ground, it would be easy. Sixty feet in the air, less so.” He smiled at his own witticism.
“The final step is the easiest of all—two wires, one high, one low. Hold one with your hands, keep your feet on the other. Sidestep from tree to tree. If you don’t lose your balance, you’ll do fine. If you do lose your balance, well, we’ll get to see if your captain is paying attention.”
“What a humorist. Regular Mark Twain.” Ben looked grimly at Christina. “I think I’m sick already.”