Sybilla stared at him open-mouthed and then slowly looked around, breaking into a smile. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
“Tiny, you are a genius. Mind you,” she said, rising to her feet, “I never did agree with the others who said you were a halfwit.”
“Oh thanks, Billa, that’s really sweet, you’re such a comfort!”
They enacted Tiny’s plan, which worked to perfection, allowing them to descend the slope in fifty- to eighty-foot intervals, securing the sled each time the rope nearly reached its end, dismantling the belay point and starting further down the slope.
At the end of the second leg, Tiny decided with Sybilla’s help to change his position so he was facing down the sled and hence down the slope. In this position he was able to provide steerage using his good arm and ski pole, thus avoiding trees and speeding up the descent. He had abandoned his single ski, which was simply getting in the way now.
After six legs they stopped for a rest and a brew.
“How far now, Tiny?”
“Difficult to be certain. Last time I visited I was walking, travelling de-luxe like this gives a different perspective. I’d say about two hundred yards—should see it soon. It’s in a clearing.”
“In that case, let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can have a proper rest and check your leg,” said Sybilla rising and discarding the dregs of her coffee.
After five further legs, they spotted the cabin not more than thirty yards away. A man was impatiently stalking backwards and forwards, in front of it.
“Recognise him?” asked Sybilla in a hushed voice.
“Looks like Jarib Morales, but I can’t be sure, he’s well muffled up,” Tiny whispered. “Still have Weber’s Luger?”
“Here, in my jacket pocket.”
Take it out and cock it, but keep it hidden,” Tiny said, still keeping his voice low. “I have my magnum in my jacket. We’ll try to bring him to us, that way if he’s ‘unfriendly’ we’ll out-gun him and have the drop on him. Hail him, Billa.”
Stepping out from behind the tree she had been using for cover, Sybilla waved her arms. “Jarib! Here Jarib, it’s Tiny and Billa, up here!”
She watched as the man stopped in his tracks, staring up towards her. He hesitated for a while then started towards them, clambering up the slope as fast as he could. When he was within fifteen yards, Tiny visibly relaxed.
“It’s Jarib,” he breathed.
When Jarib spotted Tiny on the sled bandaged and bloody, he became almost hysterical, beating his head with his hands and babbling incoherently in Chilean Spanish.
“Relax, Jarib, relax,” admonished Tiny. “I’ve got a couple of holes in me, courtesy of one of our Nazi friends over the ridge, but Nurse Thorstaadt here says I’ll live.”
It was now Sybilla’s turn to receive attention from the Chilean as he stood in front of her gazing into her eyes, his face creased with concern and his hands together as if in prayer, but speaking far too fast for Sybilla to understand fully. The gist of it seemed to be that he was thanking her for looking after Tiny and imploring her to continue to do so.
“It’s fine, Jarib, it’s fine,” said Sybilla, placing her hands on his shoulders in reassurance.
Jarib stood no more than five and a half feet and was slight, but his face was hard and careworn. A sense of toughness belied his small stature, and there was more than a hint of Amerindian about him. After he had calmed down somewhat, Tiny attempted introductions.
“Billa, as you’ve probably guessed, this fine man is Jarib Morales, a locally recruited CIA employee who once saved my life. That said, I also once saved his life, so I suppose that makes us even, but it doesn’t work quite like that, eh Jarib?”
“Eh, no, Tiny!” said the little man, breaking into a form of English. “Never forget. We stay big friends always.”
“Jarib, we need to get Tiny to the hut, pronto! Okay?” said Sybilla.
“Si, okay, no problem.” Jarib retied the rope so that the middle section was attached to the rear of the sled at two corners, leaving two free ends for Sybilla and himself. The slope was much shallower now, and required little effort on the part of Sybilla and Jarib to steer the sled to the hut. Together they manhandled Tiny onto the lower bunk bed inside.
The hut was a replica of the one by the lake, including a first aid box which Sybilla immediately raided. She was relieved to find two first field dressings which she applied to Tiny’s leg wound after discarding the old ones. The wound had bled slightly on their journey from the previous cabin but appeared to be stable at present.
Jarib then broke out rations from his pack. He had brought bread, cold meat and a type of sausage that proved rather peppery, but both Sybilla and Tiny devoured it gratefully.
As they sat drinking hot coffee, Sybilla looked at her watch. It was just before three. “Do we stay here overnight, Jarib?”
“No! Need to get Tiny to doctor, plenty quick. I know doctor who don’t ask questions. Only short distance to logger camp, my pickup there.”
Jarib’s short distance turned out to be about a mile, but with the shallower slope of the valley as it made its way towards the glacier, the going was relatively easy. Sybilla spoke to the little man in Spanish, as her ability in the language appeared to be somewhat better than his limited command of English. He explained that the chief at the logger camp was a personal friend, therefore when he came to the area to climb—apparently his passion—he always parked there.
They arrived at the camp just as the sun was thinking about making its way down behind the mountain. Seeing that they had a casualty, Eduardo,
