It just was.
He was sure King felt the same. Together they’d been through enough war and suffering to fill the lives of dozens of elite soldiers. Nothing would surprise them on the trail, and Slater wasn’t sure whether to be wary of that or take it in his stride. The last thing he wanted was to take his skillset for granted and drop his guard when the fear didn’t arise. It only took a half-second of carelessness in the heat of battle to lose your life.
He wasn’t about to let that happen.
Someone knocked on the door. He swivelled off the bed and opened it to find King standing there, pensive, the satellite phone lowered in one hand.
King swept a hand over his short hair. ‘You doing okay?’
‘Yeah,’ Slater said.
Neither of them said anything.
Slater folded his arms over his chest. ‘You babysitting me now?’
‘I think this might be more intense than we think.’
‘We’ll adapt to it. We always do.’
‘Violetta didn’t seem confident that we’d be able to make the time she wants. It’s going to be a hell of a lot of miles tomorrow.’
‘I’m in shape. You are too. This is what we train for.’
‘That’s what I told her.’
‘And yet you still have your doubts?’
‘What if the altitude gets us? What if we grind ourselves into the dirt to catch up to Raya, and then we’re crippled by headaches and nausea the moment we come into contact with the enemy.’
‘Then we’ll fight through it.’
King didn’t respond.
Slater said, ‘Really? Really? You’re having doubts? What do you want me to say?’
‘Nothing. Neither of us are babysitting each other. We’re big boys. I just think we should both be prepared if this is harder than we think.’
‘Can it really be worse than what we’ve been through?’ Slater said.
King took a step back, and nodded. ‘It can always be worse.’
Then he set off down the hallway.
Slater called after him, ‘Any updates from Violetta?’
King turned back. ‘Yeah.’
‘What’d she say?’
‘To get a good night’s sleep.’
‘Noted.’
‘We’ll need it.’
‘I don’t doubt that.’
‘You can order dinner downstairs whenever you want. I’m told it’ll take about an hour to cook.’
‘I’ll be right there.’
‘Did you take your Diamox?’
‘Yes Dad.’
‘Are you hurt from earlier today?’
Slater flexed his shoulders and arms and wrists, rolling out the aches and pains. ‘The usual.’
King half-smiled. ‘It’s a strange life we live.’
‘Always has been.’
‘I’ll see you downstairs.’
He disappeared into his own room down the hall.
27
The next morning, they both rose at the crack of dawn.
King’s alarm ruptured the pre-dawn silence, and he growled as he stabbed a finger down on the touchscreen, cancelling it. He swung out of bed and stretched out and went through a gruelling twenty-minute series of yoga vinyasas, opening his hips and his shoulders, contributing to the ongoing fight to make his body as supple and limber as possible. He credited the endless stretching and the fight to maintain positions as the main reason he was able to live this sort of lifestyle and avoid serious career-ending injury. But as he wiped fog off the window and stared out at Phaplu and the ominous towering mountains in the distance, he wondered if this operation would push him further than he’d ever gone before.
Something in the back of his head told him it might.
He dressed in a long-sleeved compression top and leggings, then threw a pair of athletic shorts and a loose hiking shirt over the top and stuffed his sleeping bag back into his pack. He slung the whole thing over one shoulder — it was heavy, but he’d trained his whole life to make hard tasks easy — and went downstairs.
Slater was already there, gorging on momos and vegetable fried rice. King ordered the same. The communal area was quiet at this hour — there were a couple of Germans across the room, but they kept to themselves, allowing King and Slater to talk in private.
Slater said, ‘You been in touch with Violetta since we last spoke?’
‘No.’
‘So same plan?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why can’t we take the plane again?’
‘Briefcase in Kharikhola.’
‘Right. That little thing.’
‘Could be a big thing if it’s empty.’
Slater stared at him as if he was stupid. ‘It’ll be empty.’
‘You seem sure of that.’
‘Either Perry got it open himself, or the porter put a gun to Raya’s head when he refused to open it. Either way, the laptop’s gone. The fact that it’s locked doesn’t mean a thing.’
‘So Parker’s career is probably over.’
‘I don’t care. What I care about is getting Raya back.’
‘I know. I’m in the same boat.’
‘Speak of the devil…’ Slater muttered under his breath.
Aidan Parker materialised in the doorway. He had dark bags under his eyes and his thinning hair was skewered out at all angles. He spotted King and Slater, nodded brusquely to them, and joined them at their table.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘how are we?’
‘About the same as usual,’ Slater said.
‘When are you heading off?’
‘Right now.’
‘Oh. Well…’
‘You don’t need to wish us good luck,’ King said. ‘We’ll get your daughter back. I promise.’
Parker didn’t immediately respond. He soaked the words in. They seemed to mean a lot to him.
Then he said, ‘Thank you. Thank you both. Truth is, I’ve never been through this much turmoil before.’
Slater nodded his understanding. ‘Now, Aidan, if you don’t mind…’
‘Right, yes, of course,’ Parker said, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you both to it. I wouldn’t want to throw you off this close to the action.’
He said it like he’d never experienced it first-hand. There was no weight behind the word action, no understanding of what exactly that might entail. King knew immediately that Parker had never seen violence up close, never heard a bone crack or a head bounce off concrete or a bullet spray out the back of a man’s head through the exit wound.
King said, ‘Lay low here. We’ll see you when
