shaped lattice, and gently eased the bent nail into a gap. The rubber bands around the nail were to eliminate noise, but I'd deliberately left the bend itself exposed: When I heard and felt metal on metal, I'd know it was correctly in position. Otherwise, if weight was applied with the hook badly positioned, there was a possibility of the nail straightening under the strain. That was why we both had a spare device. If there was a drama and one of these things started straightening while we climbed, the other loop and hook would have to hold our weight while the broken one was replaced.
The bend in the nail engaged the fencing with the gentlest of scrapes, the bottom of the strapping loop hanging about a foot above the wheel rut. I inserted the left hook about six inches higher, and a shoulder width apart.
It was pointless at this stage worrying about being so exposed to view from the house. All we could do was just get on with it, hoping they didn't see us. There was no other way. If I'd tried the previous night to find somewhere to cross on the side or rear of the building, I would have left tracks everywhere for someone to spot this morning, and my boot prints sure didn't look like reindeer hooves. Even if I'd been able to recce all the way around, I would still face the problem of sign inside the compound. At least the front of the house was crisscrossed by footprints and tire tracks.
Gripping both chunks of wood so the hooks took my body weight, I placed my right foot in the right loop and, using my right leg muscles to push my body upward and pulling up with my hands and arms, I slowly rose above the ground. As the loop began to take the strain I could hear the nylon creaking, stretching just a few millimeters as the fibers sorted themselves out.
The gate and chains rattled as the structure moved under my weight; I'd expected this to happen, but not so loudly. I froze for a few seconds and watched the house.
Satisfied that the right loop was supporting me, I lifted my left into the bottom of the one about six inches higher. I was now a foot off the ground, only about another forty-four to go.
I didn't bother looking at Tom again. From now on I was going to concentrate on what I was doing, knowing that he would be watching me closely and that he knew what was required of him.
I shifted my body weight again until all the pressure was on my left foot and hand; now it was this loop's turn to protest as it stretched that few millimeters for the first time. Lifting out the right hook, but keeping my foot in the loop, I reached up and put it back into the fence six inches above the level of the left one, again a shoulder width apart. Tom was right, it was like Spiderman climbing a wall, only instead of suction pads my hands had hooks and my feet had loops of nylon strapping.
I repeated the process twice more, trying to control my breathing through my nose as my body demanded more oxygen to feed the muscles. I checked below me. Tom was looking up, his head angled against the wind.
I wanted first to gain height and clear the snow drifts in the gap, then traverse left over them and continue climbing near a support post.
I didn't want us to climb directly above the wheel rut, not only because a vehicle or people might appear at the gate, but also because the higher we climbed, the more noise the fence would make as our weight moved it about. I was aiming for the first of the steel poles that the lattice sections were fixed to. If we climbed with our hooks each side of it, it would stop the fence from buckling and lessen the noise.
I now moved vertically to the left six inches at a time. After three more moves I was off the gate and onto the fence proper, and halfway up the first of the three sections that gave the fence its height. The smooth, unmarked snow was a couple of yards below me. There was still a few feet to go before I reached the support, but I didn't want to get too far away from Tom.
Stopping, I looked down at him and nodded. It was his turn to play now and follow my route. He took his time; there was a slight grunt as he took the weight on his right leg, and I hoped he remembered what I'd said, that it was all in the leg muscles, even though that was a lie. He'd need quite a bit of upper-body strength as well, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I didn't want to put him off before he'd even started.
The gate moved and the chains raided far too loudly for comfort.
Thankfully the wind was blowing from left to right, carrying some of our noise away from the building.
Tom hadn't quite got the hang of how to balance himself. As he went to insert his left foot in the loop he started to swivel to the right, forcing himself round to the left so he was flat against the fence once again. I could hear clown music playing in my head already. As I looked down at him under my right armpit, I thought of all the other times I'd had to climb over obstacles or move along roofs with people like Tom, experts in their field but simply unused to anything that demanded more physical coordination than boarding a bus or getting up from a chair. It nearly always ended up in a gang fuck He looked so ridiculous that I couldn't help smiling, even though his incompetence was the last thing I needed right now. For a moment I thought I'd have to go back down to him, but he eventually got his left foot into the loop and made his first ascent. Unfortunately he was so jittery that he started to swing over to the left as he released the right hook from the fence.
Tom worked hard at it, huffing and grunting as he struggled to sort himself out, then, strangely, he found the traverse a bit easier. He still looked a bag of shit, but he was making progress. I kept my eyes on target while he made his way toward me.
Moving up and across a few more times, my hooks were soon on each side of the first support. The massive steel pole was maybe a foot in diameter. I waited again for Tom, who was generating less noise now that he'd traversed onto the more rigid fence. The wind burned my exposed flesh as I forced myself to look around and check. The snot from my runny nose felt as if it was freezing on my top lip.
Ages later, Tom's head was less than a yard below my boots. Beneath us lay a deep drift of snow which extended back fifteen feet to the treeline.
Now that we both had a hook on each side of the support, the going was good and firm. All we had to do from here was climb vertically and get over the top. Pulling one hook away at a time I checked the nails.
They were standing up to the strain.
Tom was going at it like this was Everest, great clouds of vapor billowing round him as he panted for breath, his head moving up and down with the effort of sucking in more oxygen. He'd be sweating big time under his clothes, as much from the pressure he was under as from the huge amounts of physical energy he was needlessly exerting.
I moved another six inches, then another, edging my way upward, wishing we were going a bit quicker. About two-thirds of the way up, I looked down again to check on Tom.
He hadn't moved an inch since I'd last done so, his body shape flat against the fence, holding on for dear life. I couldn't tell what had happened and there was no silent way of attracting his attention. I willed him to look up at me.
He'd completely frozen, a common occurrence when people climb or rappel for the first time. It certainly has nothing to do with lack of strength-even a child has enough muscle to climb-but some people's legs just give out on them. It's a mental thing; they have the strength and know the technique, but they lack the confidence.
At last he looked up. I couldn't make out his expression, but his head was shaking from side to side. From this distance there was no way I could reason with him or offer assurance. Fuck it, I'd have to go down to him. Extracting the right hook, I began descending and traversing to the left. This was turning into a Ringling Brothers Circus act.
Getting level with him, I leaned across until my mouth was against his left ear. The wind picked up more and I had to whisper louder than I wanted. 'What's the matter, mate?' I moved my head round to present an ear for his reply, watching the house as I waited.
'I can't do it, Nick. I'm fucked.' It came out somewhere between a sob and a whimper. 'I hate heights. I should have told you. I was going to say, but? you know.'
It was pointless showing him how pissed off I was. That's just the way some people are; it's no good shaking them or telling them to get a grip. If he could, he would. I knew he wanted to get over the fence just as much as I did.
'Not a problem.'
Moving his head away from mine, he looked at me, half nodding, half hoping I was going to call it a day.
I got my mouth into his ear again. 'I'll stay alongside you all the time, just like I am now. Just watch what I do and follow, okay?'
As I checked the house I heard him sniffing. I looked back; it wasn't just snot; he was in tears.
No point rushing him; not only did we have to get over, but we had to do it again once we'd done the job. If it
