“I want Skin 17 before anyone else gets it,” he said. Now his voice was controlled and even, but it was laced with venom. “We have learned that there are at least three expeditions being organized to climb Kangchenjunga and retrieve that specification. One is from England and is, of course, the one that is our most formidable adversary. Another is from Russia, manned by our friends in the Russian Mafia. The Chinese are mounting an expedition as well, with the hopes of retrieving the formula before we do—thereby giving them a reason to never pay us for the work we’ve already done for them. There may be more.”
Le Gérant pulled another cigarette from his case and lit it. He inhaled, pausing for calculated dramatic effect. “Plans are now under way for the Union to accompany one of these expeditions to the great mountain. We will be the first to retrieve Skin 17. It could be the most important venture we undertake this year. Many of you will be called on to help arrange this. There will be no failure. Is that clear?”
Everyone nodded, but Le Gérant couldn’t see them. Several of them turned back to look at the disgusting pool of red liquid dripping off the end of the table. A few felt physically ill.
“IS THAT CLEAR?” he shouted.
They quickly turned back to him and cried, “Yes, Le Gérant!”
Le Gérant smiled. “Good. Then let’s have lunch. Is everybody hungry?”
FOURTEEN
WELCOMING RECEPTION
AFTER SPENDING ALL DAY climbing up and down staircases while wearing heavy backpacks with Marquis and other members of the team on an officer’s training course near Oakhanger, James Bond drove to SIS headquarters for a late meeting with Major Boothroyd in Q Branch.
“I want you to know that I postponed a very important dinner date to be here this evening,” Boothroyd said, punching in the security code to let Bond into the laboratory. “With a very beautiful woman, I might add.”
“Really?”
Don’t act so surprised, Double-O Seven. I may be an old man, but I’m still very healthy in that regard.”
“I didn’t say a word, Major,” Bond said, smiling. “She is a very lucky woman.”
I should say so,” Boothroyd replied. “We’ve been married twenty-eight years. Its our anniversary, and here I am, spending the evening with you.”
“Well, let’s make it brief, shall we?”
“Quite. Now, pay attention, Double-O Seven.” He led Bond to a metal table that was covered with various items. “I pulled these out of st0rage this afternoon after I learned the nature of your assignment. We’re also working with the Ministry in supplying some sophisticated communications equipment to the expedition. The Dutchman, what’s-his-name, he’ll have all that.”
“Paul Baack?”
“That’s right.”
Boothroyd went on, handing him a small tube with a mouthpiece on it. “This is similar to our underwater emergency breather, except it’s for use at high altitudes. It holds about fifteen minutes of oxygen and fits into a pocket of your parka. Again, it’s only for emergencies.”
The major indicated a pair of boots. “These are the best One Sport ‘Everest’ boots with alveolite liners and built-in supergaiters. They’re ultra light, and I think you’ll find them quite comfortable. The unique thing about them is that they’ve been designed with our special field compartments in the heels. In the right boot you’ll find medical and first aid equipment. In the left one you’ll find a set of small tools. Screwdriver, pliers, wrench . . . they might come in useful.”
Bond examined the bivouac sack made by North Face. “Ah, that,” the major said. “It’s a bivouac sack for when you’re caught outside of camp at night. We’ve installed a special battery-operated power pack that will heat it up like an electric blanket. It also expands to allow room for a second person.”
“How convenient,” Bond said.
“You have your P99 on you?”
“Yes.”
“Let me have it.”
Bond handed him the Walther P99 and Boothroyd put it in what Bond hadn’t realized was a fur-lined holster.
“I could just imagine you attempting to draw your gun out from under all those layers of clothing and the down parka you’ll most likely be wearing. By the time you got it out, you’d be a dead man. I think this outer holster should solve that little problem. It can be worn on top of your parka, but it’s still disguised to look like another pocket.”
Boothroyd removed the gun and handed it back to Bond. “We’ll have your own gear sent to you in Kathmandu. We’ve ordered all the clothing and tools you’ll need, and we’ve spared no expense. Apparently M feels that this mission is important enough to spend a few hundred pounds on a sleeping bag. If you have any questions regarding any of it when you get there, send me a fax.”
“What if I have a question in the middle of the Himalayas?”
“You can still send a fax. Paul Baack will have direct satellite linkup to the Internet, fax, and telephone. You can send me a digital snapshot from the summit of Mount Everest if you’d like.”
“I’m not climbing Everest.”
Boothroyd shrugged. “It’s much the same thing, isn’t it?”
Finally, the major opened a box and pulled out a package of plastic. “Inside this is an inflatable, portable seven-kilogram Gamow Bag. As you know, a Gamow Bag is a hyperbaric chamber used in an emergency to treat altitude sickness. This one is special because it’s got its own air pump and generator, eliminating the need for another person to use bellows on it.”
Bond picked up a strange contraption that looked like an oxygen regulator, but it had two mouthpieces on it.
Boothroyd smiled. “Ah, it figures that you would be attracted to that particular item.”
“What is it?”
“It’s an oxygen regulator, of course.”
“Why two mouthpieces?”
Boothroyd shook his head. “I know you all too well, Double-O Seven. It’s a two-person regulator. You both can share the same oxygen at a pinch.”
Seeing that most of the other members of the team are men, I resent that remark,” Bond said.
The flight to Delhi was horrendous, and the overnight stay in the hotel closest to the airport was even worse. Even though the team arrived in the city at nearly midnight, the streets were heavily con-gested with traffic, pedestrians, and cows.
Symbols of India’s religions were everywhere—Hindu images of Shiva, Ganesh, and Krishna, Buddhist statues, Sikh turbans, and even crucifixes. Nepal, though, would be completely Hindu and Buddhist. In fact, Nepal officially designated itself as the “only Hindu country in the world.”
Not normally a religious person, Bond respected Eastern beliefs. Even so, he had fitful dreams of these various religious icons and woke up irritable and stiff. Sergeant Chandra, with whom he shared a room, seemed to take it all in his stride. Gurkhas are typically good-natured, no matter how unpleasant conditions may be, and Chandra was no exception. When Bond awoke, the Gurkha was humming to himself, standing at the counter dressed only in boxer shorts, making coffee with a ten-year-old Mr. Coffee machine that, surprisingly, came with the room.
“Good morning, sir,” Chandra said, a large grin spread over his face. “Coffee?”
Bond groaned and pulled himself out of bed. “Please. Black. Strong. Hot. I’m going to take a cold shower.”
“That’s all there is,” Chandra said. “Apparently the hotel lost its hot water last night.”
Bond told himself that he must get used to these little inconveniences. Once they had embarked on the trek to the Himalayas and set about ascending Kangch, all remnants of a civilized world would be long gone.