The Edge Page 6

  “We will see who is in control,” Zopa said. “The climbers or the climb master.”

  They pushed off at the exact same moment. Apparently Mom was in control. Synchronized. Which is not that easy, because the cliff routes are all different, even though the climbers are only strung twenty feet apart. They have to pay attention not only to their route but to the rate of descent of the person next to them. Mom was in the middle, two climbers on her right, two on her left. She was controlling the descent with fifteen- to twenty-foot pitches. At first the line was a little ragged, but by midcliff everyone seemed to have caught the rhythm. Push off. Drop twenty. Push off. I’d done synchronized rappels many times, but I’d never seen it from the ground. It was an impressive thing to watch. They all touched down at the exact same moment.

  “Nice job!” Mom congratulated them as they unhooked their harnesses and retrieved their ropes.

  The climbers were drenched in sweat. They took their helmets off. Three guys and a . . .

  My breath caught in my throat. The girl shook out her long, damp black hair and smiled at me. Her eyes were pale blue. Her copper-colored arms were bare and chiseled. My legs went weak, and it wasn’t from crab walking across the scree with two packs.

  She stripped off her climbing gloves and put her long-fingered hand out. “Bonjour. You must be Peak. I am Alessia Charbonneau.”

  I took her hand. Speechless. This had never happened to me before. I thought I might have had a minor stroke.

  “I am a very big admirer of your father and your mother,” Alessia said.

  She was still holding my hand. Or maybe I wasn’t letting go. I hadn’t even glanced in the direction of the other climbers since I laid eyes on Alessia, but I could hear them chugging water and murmuring in the background like Alessia and I weren’t standing on the same slope, or in the same country. That’s when I realized I hadn’t said one word to Alessia.

  Say something!

  “Nice rappel.”

  Are you kidding me? Nice rappel? That’s what comes out of my mouth?

  “Your mother insisted,” Alessia said. “She wanted to test our control after the difficult climb through the chimney. I thought I would get some rest when we arrived at camp. I did not sleep well last night because of my excitement, but Zopa”—she released my hand; it felt like someone had just cut my rope—“is, how do you say, a task maestro.”

  “Master. Taskmaster.”

  “Ah, oui, my English is . . .”

  “Your English is excellent. My French is, well, nonexistent.”

  “You know Zopa?”

  “Yes.” But of course no one really knew Zopa. “I was on Everest with him.”

  “You were on Everest?”

  Her blue eyes got that look. It was like I had just said I’d met God. I immediately regretted telling her because—

  “You reached the summit?”

  I shook my head. I almost met God.

  She looked sympathetic, but not in the you-loser-if-I-had-been-on-Everest-I-would-have-made-it-to-the-top sense, which I appreciated.

  “Just to be on Everest,” she said, wistfully.

  “It was great,” I said, but in truth, it wasn’t that great. It was cold, and there wasn’t much air to breathe.

  “Zopa was the climbing”—she had to think about the word—“master.”

  “Technically my dad was in charge of the climb. Zopa was kind of the lead Sherpa. He’s reached the summit many times.”

  “He did not tell us this. In fact, he did not say anything about his climbing experience.”

  I wished I’d followed his lead.

  “Why did he not have you climb the chimney?”

  I wanted to shrug. If any of the other climbers had asked this, I would have shrugged. But I kept my shoulders where they were and said, “He needed help with the gear.”

  Alessia laughed. “So you were Zopa’s Sherpa.”

  “Who’s a Sherpa, mate?”

  This came from another climber. He was a little older than me. Australian, by his accent. Apparently Alessia and I were not alone on the mountain. There were other climbers. The spell was broken.

  “Peak was on Everest this year too,” Alessia informed everyone.

  Now I really regretted saying the E word.

  The Aussie stuck out his huge hand. “The name is Rafe. Rafe Rounder. Why didn’t you climb the chimney?”

  I shrugged.

  “I’ve been to Everest,” Rafe continued, loud enough to be heard in Uzbekistan. “Topped it a few weeks ago. You’re Peak, right? Met your dad at base camp. Righteous dude.”

  “South side?” Mom asked.

  He nodded. “Fifteenth to summit.”

  Mom can spot a liar from ten miles away. There are basically two routes up Everest. The southern route, which is in Nepal, and the northern route, which is in Tibet. We had climbed the northern route. There was no possible way Rafe could have met my dad in base camp on the south side, in a different country.

  “Didn’t see you in base camp,” Rafe said suspiciously, glancing at Alessia with a slight grin.

  There were so many things I could have said . . . That’s because we were on the northern route. You have to be at least sixteen to climb the southern route, and I was fourteen at the time. Or, That’s because we weren’t on the Nepal side, and neither were you. If we’d had a cell or satellite signal, I could have proved this in about thirty seconds. Everyone who summits Everest is listed, with the time and date of their summit, their climbing group, and their age. I’ve checked this list every year since I was seven years old. I didn’t remember a Rafe Rounder on the list. And it was a short list.

  “Base camp was crowded,” I said. “A lot of climbers this year.”

  Mom gave me a smile. Zopa smiled too. Climbers are evaluated by their climbing skills, not by their mouths or past climbs.

  “I’ll say,” Rafe said. “It was like a shopping mall at Christmas. But I’m still surprised I didn’t bump into you.” He gave Alessia a sly look. It was obvious that Rafe had a crush on her and he was trying to crush me.

  I wondered if what Zopa had smelled was Rafe Rounder.

  “Enough talk of Everest,” Alessia said, to my relief, and introduced me to the other two climbers, Aki and Choma. I don’t think they had any idea what had just been said during the exchange about Everest. Aki was from Japan. Choma was from Ukraine. They didn’t appear to understand or speak much English, but they had bright, enthusiastic smiles. They were both fifteen or sixteen years old.

  “We go now,” Zopa says. “Dark soon.”

  This made me smile. Zopa’s English was a lot better than that. Who was he trying to fool? Cagey monk.

  We started down the treacherous scree with Zopa and Mom in the lead. Behind them were Elham, Aki, and Choma, followed by Rafe and Alessia, who were walking side by side—not easy on the loose rocks. I suspected, actually I hoped, that Rafe was trying to keep abreast of Alessia and that Alessia was not trying to stay next to Rafe. I followed behind. I’m not sure why, but it seemed like the most comfortable place. At least on this trip. I wasn’t feeling the drive that I usually feel during a climb. The scramble. The push to be first. To lead. When you climb alone, you are always in front. And to be truthful, I wasn’t feeling my best. I was either exhausted or else I was coming down with something.

  Halfway down, we all turned on our headlamps. Two-thirds of the way down, it was pitch-dark. I stopped to readjust my pack and get a drink of water. There was no moon. A million stars hung in the black sky. Seven headlamps bobbed down the scree in front of me. I turned around and looked back at the cliff. I wondered if the shen was watching us. When I turned back around, I saw that one of the headlamps had stopped. I’d lost track of which light belonged to who (or is that whom, Vincent?). I figured the light belonged to Mom. I was sure she had plenty to say about Rafe and the other climbers, and we wouldn’t really be able to talk at base camp. Tents have thin walls. I made my way toward her light slowly so we’d ha
ve plenty of space between us and the others. But it wasn’t Mom.

  “Is all okay with you?” Alessia asked.

  “Yeah. Fine. Just hanging back. Thinking.”

  “About Rafe?”

  “Who?” I joked.

  “The climber from Australia.”

  “It was a joke.”

  “Oh,” she said uncertainly.

  I guessed the joke didn’t translate from English to French. Or maybe people were more literal in France. Or maybe Alessia was simply nice and didn’t understand sarcasm.

  “I wasn’t thinking about Rafe,” I told her, which wasn’t entirely true.

  “He is an oaf.”

  “He’s okay.” Now, this was a complete lie, because he was an oaf, but I wanted her to think that I was nice. I was finding it a lot easier to talk to her in the dark, picking my way across the scree, without having to look at her blue eyes.

  “You have been climbing a long time?” Alessia asked.

  “Since I could walk. And you?”

  “Ten years.”

  “Your parents didn’t mind you coming all the way to Afghanistan to climb?”

  “It is only my mother and I now, and this was not far for me to come. We live in Kabul. And I’m not alone out here.” She pointed toward the lights. “You know Elham, but did you meet Ebadullah in camp?”

  “Yes.”

  “They were sent to keep an eye on me and provide security for the climb.”

  “I thought they were locals.”

  “I’m certain they are, or were at one time, but they’ve been working for my mother since she arrived here.”

  “What does your mother do in Kabul?”

  “She is the French ambassador.”

  I’d never met an ambassador, or an ambassador’s daughter. What do you say to this? I said, “No kidding.” Which I guess was marginally better than wow.

  “She has had this posting for two years now,” Alessia continued. “Before this, we were in Argentina. It was there that I really learned to climb.”

  “Aconcagua?”

  “Yes. The Stone Sentinel.”

  Aconcagua is one of the seven summits, the tallest mountain on each continent. At one time, I wanted to top all seven, but after Everest, I wasn’t sure about this goal.

  “It is a simple climb,” Alessia said. “A walk up, really.”

  “Twenty-two thousand eight hundred and forty-one feet is a dangerous climb even if it is a walk up,” I said.

  “Breaking your ankle is the only real danger. It is like this.” She pointed at the scree.

  She was moving across the loose rocks remarkably well, with a light step. Not unlike a shen.

  “I saw a snow leopard today when I got here.” I couldn’t seem to stop myself from trying to impress her, which made me feel a little more sympathetic toward Rafe. She must have thought that all guys were idiots.

  “No!” she exclaimed.

  “On the cliff face. It was a long ways off. Zopa saw it too.” I’m not sure why I added this last part, but I suspect it was because I wasn’t sure if she actually believed me about Everest after Rafe’s comments.

  “I have never seen one in the wild. They are very rare here, but I’ve heard their population has increased because of the war.”

  “Why would that be?”

  “The war did not touch the Pamirs. The hunters were fighting, leaving the mountains in peace.”

  “Then I guess this is a good place for a Peace Climb.”

  “You are very lucky to have seen one. I am climbing next to you, with your luck. If you do not mind.”

  “I do not mind at all,” I said.

  Search and Rescue

  RAFE GAVE ME the stink-eye as Alessia and I arrived at camp fifteen minutes behind everyone else. It was all I could do not to shoot him a victorious she-walked-with-me-not-you-big-jerk grin. There were now two campfires burning. One of them had a water kettle hanging over the flames. Most of the tents were lit from inside, looking like colorful lanterns against the darkness.

  “Gather round,” Phillip shouted, which was ridiculous because we were all standing within twenty feet of him and Cindy. “Now that we have all the climbers, I thought it would be a good idea to have a meeting to work out what we’re going to do.”

  “But before we begin,” Cindy said, “do any of you have a cell signal?”

  Phillip tried to hide his irritation—not very successfully. Several people fished their cells out. All of them shook their heads.

  “I can’t believe this!” Cindy stamped away to their tent and disappeared inside.

  “All right, then,” Phillip said. “Back to the meeting. This shoot is pretty simple. In a few days, I will be filming your group climb in the Pamirs. The spot will be determined by your collective climbing skills, weather, and other factors. This is not a climbing competition per se, but in another sense it is a competition. There are teams all over the world climbing on the same day that we are. All of the climbs will be filmed. All of them will get airtime in Plank’s two-hour special, but some will get more airtime than others. I want our team to be that team that gets the extra airtime. We’ve all traveled a long way to be here. It would be a shame to see our climb, or most of it, on the cutting room floor.”

  “How do we control that?” Rafe asked.

  “By stunning filming, interesting interviews, and incredible set shots. You’ll notice I have two campfires burning. One is for cooking; the other is for interviews. Beautiful light. We’ll start the interviews tonight.” He looked at Alessia. “How much airtime you get in the final cut will in large part depend on how well you interview. It’s all about story.”

  It was actually all about how you looked and what you sounded like. I’d been up that wall before, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to climb it again.

  “What is a set shot?” Alessia asked.

  I was wondering the same thing.

  “It’s a video sequence that may have nothing to do with your primary climb. We’ll insert it because it looks good.”

  “In other words, it’s fake,” I said. It was out of my mouth almost before I thought it.

  “Not at all. You’ll actually be climbing. It’s just that where you’re climbing may not have anything to do with the real climb. And believe me, I know most of the other directors on this project. They are all going to be shooting raw set shots, hoping to get them into the final cut. It’s the difference between a minute or a minute and a half of airtime and five or even seven minutes of airtime.”

  Phillip was obviously shooting for the seven-minute side of this equation.

  “Before we left, I managed to get ahold of some top-secret drone images of the area.” Phillip gave us a conspiratorial grin. “Don’t ask me how, but I have some friends in the Pentagon from some of the films I’ve directed. And I’ve found the perfect spot for our first set piece. I’ve sent my film crew out to scout the location.”

  I looked around and realized that JR and the crew were not in camp.

  “Where are they?” Mom asked.

  “Obviously they aren’t back yet,” Phillip answered.

  “How far away was this place?”

  “Five or six miles. I expected them back by now, but I’m sure they’ll be along soon. No need to panic.”

  Mom did not look panicked; she looked irritated. With good reason. The Wakhan Corridor was no place to be wandering around at night. Five or six miles on this terrain in the dark could be lethal. The film crew were all fit, but the only one with any substantial climbing experience was Ethan. I wasn’t sure how good his navigation skills were in the dark in a place he had never been before.

  “Do you have the secret drone images?” Mom asked.

  This was a test question. I knew my mom well.

  “In my tent, but I don’t see how—”

  Wrong answer.

  “Get them,” Mom said.

  Phillip gave her a dazzling smile. “You are not going after them.”

  Mom d
id not return the smile.

  Phillip pointed the smile at us, ignoring her completely. “I guess I should clarify who’s in charge of this expedition. That would be me. As the director, I’m calling the shots here. It’s not necessarily the job I want, but I’m the most experienced and very good at it. I’m not going to have my climbers running around in the dark like decapitated chickens. We can’t afford to have our climbers injured before the climb.”

  “And if something happens to the film crew before the climb, you will have no video.” This little bit of wisdom was from Zopa. “Get the photographs and the topography maps.”

  No trouble with Zopa’s English now.

  Phillip attempted to stare him down, which was like trying to win a staring contest with a statue of the Buddha. Phillip lost. He very coolly walked over to his tent and went inside. We heard Cindy screech a few choice words at him. There is no privacy in a camp. Phillip returned a moment later with a stack of photos and a roll of topo maps. We all gathered around him.

  “I still think we should just wait,” Phillip said, finding the right photo. “Here’s the river.” He pointed. “Here’s our camp. And here’s where I sent them.”

  Mom and Zopa stared at the grainy photo.

  “Show me the spot on the map,” Mom said.

  Phillip impatiently unrolled the maps, found the one he was looking for, and pointed again. “Right here.”

  “Point out the camp again,” Mom said.

  Phillip stabbed a manicured finger at the spot.

  Zopa shook his head. “No. We are here.” He pointed to a spot about three miles upriver from where Phillip was pointing.

  “I think you’re mistake—”

  “I am correct.” Zopa cut him off. “I have been here for several days. I will take Teri and Peak with me to find them.”

  “Whatever,” Phillip said. “But you’re wasting your time. They’ll probably be back here before you get back.” He looked at me. “You may want to stick around. I was just about to go through my parameters for the interviews.”

  “Parameters?”

  “Yeah. You’re all free to say whatever you want, but there are certain things I’m looking for. It would be unfair not to tell all of you what I need to level the playing field.”