He was past caring.
Hope pulled Barlow’s and Leaud’s bodies out of their tent so that they could be buried. Bond went into Paul Baack’s tent, looked at the bright yellow and green parka covering the body, and sighed. It was too bad. He had liked the Dutchman. Before pulling him out, though, Bond decided to get a message to London on Baack’s satellite phone.
Reception was surprisingly good. He got Tanner, who put him through to M herself. She agreed with Bond’s plan to descend the following day if the missing climbers failed to show up. As for Roland Marquis, an all-points warrant was issued for his arrest. If he dared to show his face at any western airport, he would be nabbed.
“Don’t worry, Double-O Seven,” M said. “I’ve explained to the Minister what has happened. He was furious, but he’ll get over it. You did your best.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t, ma’am,” Bond said. “I feel as if I let you down. I’m also very concerned about Sergeant Gurung. If he died up here, I would—”
“If he died up there,” she interrupted, “he died for Britain. That was his job. He knew the risks. Now put it behind you. That’s an order, Double-O Seven.”
“Yes, ma’am. Uhm, any news on Miss Marksbury?”
“Nothing. Not a trace of her. Now, finish your own job and get home safely.”
He rang off and sat there a moment. Had he tried hard enough? Had he pushed himself to the limit? Had he gone the distance? And what about Helena? Had there been a clue of her betrayal—some sign that he may have missed? Bond suddenly experienced a crushing feeling of guilt and anger. What could he have done better?
He stood and prepared to drag Baack’s body out of the tent but then decided to let it go. He would do it later. At that moment he felt like taking a good look at the Himalayan range and cursing the gods.
He emerged from the tent and called for Hope. There was no answer.
He walked back to his own tent, calling her name.
“Over here!” she yelled. She was busy digging out the snow from the front of the plane fuselage. Bond joined her, took another shovel, and began to help.
“We should have buried the plane passengers in the first place instead of trying to haul them down the mountain,” he said. “How- many are still in the plane?”
“I don’t know, five or six,” she said. They would have to make do with giving the victims crevasse burials, which meant that they would simply haul the bodies to the nearest crevasse and throw them in. This avoided having to dig in the ice and snow, which was a major expenditure of energy.
They worked hard for several minutes, then stopped to take a break. They sat on rocks, breathed oxygen, and drank from their water bottles.
“I’m hungry,” she said. “How about I boil up some freeze-dried?”
“Why, I haven’t had a dish like that in such a long time. By all means!”
She laughed and started to get up, but he surprised her by standing quickly, shoving her out of the way, drawing the P99 from his outer holster, and firing into the distance. She screamed.
“Stop right there!” Bond shouted, holding the gun level. Hope turned to look and was shocked by what she saw.
Roland Marquis was fifty feet away, his hands raised.
TWENTY-FOUR
A BETTER WAY TO DIE
MARQUIS STOOD HIS GROUND, not moving. Bond walked toward him, the Walther still in hand. Hope stood spellbound, watching the two of them.
“Put the gun away Bond,” Marquis said. “I’m not the bad guy.”
“How do I know that’s true?” Bond asked.
“I saved your miserable life, you fool. It was Carl Glass and Otto Schrenk. They were working together. They tried to kill you and take the pacemaker.”
“What happened to the pacemaker? Where have you been?”
“I saw Schrenk and Glass enter your tent. It was a good thing I was watching with a CWS. I didn’t like the look of it, so I went over to the tent but stood outside. I heard a gunshot and rushed in. They had already hit you on the head, and Glass had just shot Schrenk. I don’t know why Glass turned on Schrenk. I suppose he got greedy Anyway, I surprised him, and Glass panicked. He knocked me down running out of the tent. I chased him over the north ridge.’’
The story was plausible but something wasn’t right. “Go on.”
“Not much else to tell except that Glass fell. I never did catch up with him. He was near a precipice and lost his footing. He saw that was behind him and he got careless. The weather was bloody horrific. I was mad to go after him, but I thought you would appreciate it if someone did.”
“So the pacemaker .. . ?”
“It went down with Glass. It’s gone forever. Can I put down my hands now?”
“I’d feel better if you empty your pockets and throw down any weapons you might be carrying,” Bond said.
“I assure you that I’ve lost my Browning. I tried to shoot Glass, but I dropped the bloody thing. Couldn’t find it.”
Bond approached him and patted the pockets on his parka. He looked through the goggles into Marquis’s eyes, attempting to judge whether or not something there would betray him. All Bond saw, though, was the familiar hatred emanating from his old school rival.
“All right, Roland, but don’t try any sudden moves. I’ve got an itchy-trigger finger.”
Marquis lowered his hands. He looked around and said, “Where’s everyone else?”
“They’re dead,” Hope said, walking up to them with an ice ax in hand. “Everyone is accounted for now that you’re back and you’ve confirmed why Glass is missing. Except for Chandra.”
Bond said, “We don’t know where he is. Do you?”
Marquis shook his head. “No. I haven’t seen him since we brought up Lee Ming’s body. Everyone else is dead? The Sherpas, too?”
“Yes,” Hope said. “They were all murdered in their tents. We think Schrenk did it.”
“So you’re burying people? That’s what you’re doing now?”
“Yeah,” Hope said. “We were going to stay here tonight, sit through the storm, and go home tomorrow.”
“Well, then,” Marquis said. “I’ll help you. I’d like to go home, too. I daresay we’d be safer traveling together, don’t you think?”
“You’re no longer our leader, though,” Bond said. “I take no more orders from you, Roland.”
“Fine, Bond. If it makes you feel victorious or something, then you be the leader.”
Bond didn’t comment. He lowered the gun and said, “We had better hurry and finish the job with these corpses. The storm is coming. He put away the Walther but was still wary. There was something about Marquis’s story he didn’t like.
They walked back to the hole that Hope had begun to dig. She asked, “Have you had food? Do you need something before we get to work?”
“That would be very nice,” Marquis said. “Some hot tea would be quite welcome indeed, Hope.’’
Bond stopped her and said, “Wait. Roland, did you happen to run into the Russians?”
Marquis replied, “As a matter of fact, yes. Just saw their campsite, is all. It was over on the other side of the ridge. We steered clear of it.”
Bond’s eyes narrowed. “We?”
Marquis flinched. He knew he had said the wrong thing. Without a moment’s hesitation he lashed out at Hope, grabbed her ice ax and swung it at Bond. The point buried itself in Bond’s right shoulder. He cried out in pain as Hope screamed. Marquis pulled the ax out, turned, and ran the way he had come. Bond fell to his knees and clutched his arm. Blood was pouring out of the wound. Hope squatted beside him and tried to examine the injury.