Seventeen

Our agent shouted for us to run as she pulled out her FN P90. She had it on semi-auto, and once she threw herself flat in the snow she opened up with a steady stream of aimed shots, none of that mindless spraying of bullets you see in movies.

The rest of us ran after Fowl, back the way we’d come, away from the action. I passed one body, reached down to twist the face out of the snow, and saw it was a porter, dead. There was another body shortly after, a Secret Service agent with an exploded head. I kept moving up the route as fast as I could, thinking now of Diana and the president.

The guides and porters had dropped their loads and were moving fast back the way we’d descended. Several took time to help climbers along, to lift anyone up who fell. It was a mad scramble, and because of the raging storm we quickly lost all sound from the gunfight taking place behind us.

At one point I ran past the bodies of Onesphory and his killer. Five minutes later our ragtag group began to slow, then stop as climbers sucked air. Agents moved along the line, ordering us all to keep moving. Four of them dropped back as a rear guard, with looks of grim determination.

I set off, searching for Diana along the way. Finally, I came on a cluster of climbers and guides gathered into a rough circle at the start of a pitch. Cavendish looked as though he was about to collapse. Tarja was beside him, wearing her poker face. Stern started to record, but an agent quickly and forcefully placed his hand over the camera and told him to put it away.

I eased my way around the edge until I spotted Diana with the tight group around the president. Tony Salcito was barking orders, organizing everyone. After a few minutes he shouted to be heard above the wind.

“Listen up! We’ve had some casualties, but the president’s just fine. There’s an Army Ranger team moving toward us, and they’ll be in contact with those who attacked us shortly. We need to move back to High Camp, where we’ll be safe until we know how to proceed. Communications are still spotty, so I don’t have details for you. You all saw the helicopter crash and know we are under attack. We’re going to move a bit more quickly than in the past, so be careful. There’s no cause for heightened concern. I have excellent people covering us, and we still have a strong security team with us.”

“What if they ambush us?” someone called out.

“We have no reason to believe there are combatants above us,” Tony said.

“But you have no reason to believe there aren’t, either!” The same voice.

“This is a situation that calls for action. We’re moving up because that’s the safest course. My team is highly trained. You are in the best of hands.”

“Where’s the Tanzanian army?” Stern demanded. “They were supposed to keep this mountain clear, yet they let those terrorists through. And I didn’t see any of them helping us out just now in that firefight.”

“We lost contact with the Tanzanian army yesterday,” Tony said.

“How do we know they aren’t in with those people?” Tarja shouted.

“Listen! This is no time for a debate or speculation. You’ll have plenty of opportunity for that once we’re safe. For now, we need to get moving. Anyone who wants to stay behind is welcome to, but those of us able to protect you are returning to High Camp. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Don’t straggle.”

The pep talk had done nothing of the sort. Climbers complained and looked about suspiciously. Watching closely it seemed to me that those closest to the president were concerned about something more than the attack and retreat back up the mountain. Calvin was surely there, but I couldn’t make him out. Stern saddled up beside me.

“It’s happened again,” he said.

“What?”

“People getting killed, gunfights, storms, general mayhem and misery. This is the last time I’m going on one of these with you. You’re bad luck, I swear you are.”

“I didn’t invite you. I’ve never invited you.” Stern glared. “Anyway, you used to think I was good press, remember? How much money have you made because of these climbs?”

“It’s not worth it if you get killed. This is looking really bad. And I never even got to see the president.”

“You might get your chance yet.”

“Not with Tarja along. She’s been keeping me away.”

Just then climbers and guides began peeling away, setting out back the way we’d come. I waited for my time then joined the line. If anything, the storm was worse, and over the next exhausting hour, as we rose in elevation, our retreat turned into a freezing nightmare.

It was growing dark by the time we staggered into High Camp. During the long hours of the climb back up the mountain we’d stopped repeatedly, enough that I was concerned for the health of someone important on the climb. Anyone else and we’d have moved on, leaving them behind with a few porters and possible a Secret Service guard. No, someone important was struggling. It might have been Cavendish, even the president. There was no way to know.

The last hour before camp, all cohesion broke down despite our slow pace, reminding me of a defeated army in retreat. We separated, first into two groups, then into more. Tom’s hamstring was giving him hell and he hobbled like a cripple along the route. It turned out that several of our porters were wounded, and during our stops Calvin and the medical team tended to them.

I could tell that Tony was concerned with balancing his first priority, which was the well-being and protection of the president, against his second priority, which was the safety of everyone on the climb. I didn’t envy him the decisions he was being forced to make. When the human body freezes to death it slowly retreats from the extremities, leaving the limbs to die in order to preserve whatever strength remains to support the core of life. Tony was in much the same situation. There could very well come a point when he’d be compelled to stop protecting everyone and pull his agents back to preserve the life of the president alone. It hadn’t happened as yet, but I could see the time coming.

The storm showed us no mercy. The higher we climbed, the worse it had become. Snowfall remained heavy, and the wind was relentless, easing to gale force, then gusting to velocities making it difficult to remain on our feet. More than one of us was swept off the route and toppled into the snow.

The guides performed yeoman work, keeping up spirits, cautioning us, lifting climbers from falls, assisting them at difficult points. It had always been my experience that for all the summit victories claimed by Western climbers, it was the local guides and porters that made it possible. Our Chagga helpers were just another example of that hearty, outstanding breed of men.

The snow made our passage even more difficult. It was piled in banks, and our guides were slowed to force their way through, clearing the way for us. All the while the president and those about him kept to the fore, as far from the danger pursuing us as possible.

I heard no more gunshots, but that really meant nothing in these conditions. The four agents I’d watched drop back had not returned, nor had they been reinforced. We knew nothing about whatever was taking place behind us.

We were all exhausted as we staggered into High Camp. We’d gone most of the distance down the mountain in extreme weather, been in a firefight, then fled back up the mountain, retracing our steps to where we’d left that morning. All of this in the midst of a blizzard and under enormous stress. It had taken a toll on us all. I could see it in the movement of the climbers, in their body language. Even the guides and porters had this last hour become more distant from us.

I wasn’t the first to arrive and spotted Hooker engaged in heated conversation with Tony. As promised, he’d remained here rather than move off the mountain. Someone more suspicious than me might have thought he knew something. As I understood it, he’d been informed that his tent was being requisitioned for the night.

Understandably, the porters had cast aside their loads when fleeing the gunfight. It would have been foolhardy to do anything else. But what that meant was we had no cover for the night, no shelter other than what we could contrive—and no food except what we carried with us.

High Camp stood at just over 15,000 feet. It was hilly and exposed, interlaced with boulders. There was no meaningful shelter of any kind, which meant that unless this storm blew over we were in for a miserable, and for some, a deadly night.

The storm and our lack of cover wasn’t the only concern. Pilots are required to use oxygen above 12,500 feet, and any commercial airplane that was not pressurized is required to provide oxygen to all passengers at 15,000 feet. Air density is only 60% of sea level concentration. Oxygen intake where we were was only about 80%, when we need at least 87% for normal functioning. Hypoxia was almost certainly going to strike some while we were here, as we’d been at or above this elevation for the greater part of two days—and under exhausting conditions. Moreover, there was no way to know who would be struck. The fittest, most experienced mountaineer can come down with high altitude sickness without warning, while the greenest, not especially fit novice, can be immune. There are no advance indicators, no tests to foretell the future.

After some minutes, the climbers were told to gather for a meeting. We moved into a tight group as the porters gathered amongst themselves a distance away, the guides remaining with us.

It was Grant, with a booming voice, who spoke. “Listen up! I don’t need to tell you all that until the Rangers arrive we’re in a fix here. As long as this blizzard holds its strength we are cut off from help. As you know, most of our supplies and equipment were left behind, but we have a few things to see to the president. Unfortunately, we have no food, so you are limited to what you carry. Share with those who have nothing, and don’t forget the guides. They’re just as hungry as you are. We’re going to hunker down here for the night, and I’m sorry to say that there are no spare tents. It will be very dark shortly, and we couldn’t keep going even if we were physically able to. Let me anticipate your questions. We have no communication. Our failsafe system ended with the destruction of our communications airplane. Sat phones aren’t functioning, and for now we can’t reach the carrier offshore. We’ll keep trying. As soon is this storm clears, you can be certain of help. We’ll be flooded with it, I assure you. The resources are at hand.

“As for the attackers, an Army Ranger team is pursuing them and has surely engaged by now. We have no way of knowing for certain, but that’s their job, and they are well trained and motivated. We also have skilled, motivated and trained professionals with us. They’re throwing up a protective ring.”

“What about tomorrow?” someone called out.

“Tomorrow will take care of itself. We’ll make decisions in the morning about how to proceed. Those will be largely dependent on the storm. I’m told it can’t keep this up. It’s unseasonal and will blow itself out as quickly as it started.”

“It’s the monsoon!” another voice shouted.

“Yes, we’ll be cold, but we’ll have communication and help.”

“Why didn’t you make plans for this possibility?” That was Hooker. “How can you place the president in such a dangerous situation without thinking the consequences through?”

“That’s enough of that!” Tony shouted. “This is no time for a press conference or recriminations. Everything’s going to be fine. For now, just focus on getting through tonight.”

With that, the meeting broke up. I saw Hooker trying to get at Tony to press his questions, but a Secret Service agent was keeping him at bay. The guides moved the climbers in small groups to the spare shelter of the largest boulders. These scarcely offered any protection but at least served to break the wind a bit. They urged us into small clusters and told us to huddle closely to trap what warmth we could.

I made a point to find Diana and eased her away from the president’s group to join Tom, Fowl, Stern and me. This was the merry little group Magumbo organized. I’d been very glad to see him among the living.

“What about tents?” she asked.

“Kubwa Moja has a tent,” Magumbo answered, “and there is one other for his friend, Mr. Aleister, and his woman, but there are no others. You must cover yourselves as best you can. We will all suffer tonight.”

“How many did we lose?” Fowl asked, ever the pragmatist.

Magumbo’s smile faded. “I do not know for certain. A few. There are faces I cannot find. I will be with my people tonight. I will see you in the morning.”

We moved Diana to the most protected spot against the boulder, then moved ourselves around her in a sort of circle, more like a cocoon. It was agreed that during the night we’d rotate positions every hour or two so no one was forced to keep the same side facing the cold all night.

We made an inventory of our food supplies and found we were in better shape than we might have been. Each of us was carrying chocolate, candy bars, or protein bars, in some cases all three. Fowl had a half tube of salami and a can of biscuits. Diana had a large, unopened bag of peanut M&Ms, while I produced my mother lode of beef jerky. In fact, we had more food than we could reasonably consume for our immediate meal, which meant there’d be more the next day.

But before we could divvy up the supplies a bobbing light approached us out of the dark and storm and a voice called out, “Is Devlon here?”

It was Grant. “Here.”

“Sorry to take you away from such a cozy spot, but Tony wants to brief you. I’ll bring you back when he’s finished.”

I disengaged from the jumble and followed him. I’d been cold in my huddle, but only now, exposed like this, did I realize it had offered a measure of respite. The president’s group was gathered in a tight pack about a series of boulders, but they were no less exposed than the rest of us. They’d not remained in the high altitude jumpsuits they’d used on summit day for the descent, and those now lay abandoned on the ground in the area of the firefight. They were just as cold and miserable as the rest of us.

I was taken to Tony, who was hunkered down beside a snow crested boulder talking with two Secret Service agents. They moved off as Grant and I joined them. “Tea?” Tony asked. “We’ve got a small heating unit and a bit of tea. Not much else.”

“Tea would be heavenly.” Tony nodded at Grant, who went off to get it. “Our situation is such that you need to be informed. I know your background, and I’m depending on you to once again step up in service for your country. Word about what I’m going to tell you will spread at some point, but I’d just as soon delay it as long as I can. All right?”

“I understand.”

“Communication is all but non-existent, but the blackout has not been as total as we’ve let on. Shortly after arriving here we were able to receive an encrypted message from offshore, but there was no confirmation that our message got out.” He hesitated, then said, “The vice president has been sworn in and is now functioning as president.”

I was stunned. “How is that possible?”

“He believes the president is dead. The cabinet is persuaded, as well. I’ll get back to that in a minute. The consequence is that he has issued a number of national security directives. He’s placed the U.S. military on its highest alert short of war. He’s suspended all non-vital airline traffic in the U.S.”

“That seems extreme.”

“The attack on the president, the destruction of the airplanes at Kilimanjaro Airport, and reports of terrorist attacks across the United States has led to what I think is an overreaction.”

“What terrorist attacks?”

“The message was short and didn’t include details.”

“So none may have actually taken place.”

“Let me say, Scott, that the vice president has a tendency to overreact and leave it at that. It’s vital that we get word out that the president is alive as soon as we can. There have never been two sworn presidents at the same time in our history, but I can’t imagine it will be a problem once it is known the real president is alive. It is essential to communicate the reality and get the president back into the decision loop. There’s more. At the vice president’s request, Israel has inserted teams on the north side of Kilimanjaro. You may know that Israel has long had interests in East Africa. Al-Qaeda has a presence here, and they are almost certainly behind the attack on our airplanes and us earlier today. For all their expertise, it goes without saying that involving Israel has made things very difficult internationally.

“If you’ve looked at a map, you’ll have seen that there are five routes up the mountain from the south to where we currently are. This depends on how you count them, but from a security position there are five routes to be covered. In the event of trouble, the plan called for a Seal team and the Rangers to advance up each of those routes to secure them. I believe that is what is taking place. We can be certain that, despite this storm, military assets are flooding the area about us. At the first break in this storm they’ll be here.”

Grant returned and handed each of us a large mug of hot tea. I’ve never tasted anything so good. “What about those who attacked us? You really think they’re al-Qaeda?”

“They are certainly backed by al-Qaeda. This is one of the scenarios that made this climb so unwise and why we opposed it so strongly, but other considerations dictated events. Our estimate is that the al-Qaeda team is not well prepared for this storm. They were intending to intercept us below and kill or capture the president if they could. The storm changed all that. They shot down the Blackhawk, all right, but we don’t think they intended to climb up the mountain after us. The agents who brought up the rear had enough contact with them to confirm that is what they’re doing. But they also report they appeared lightly dressed for these conditions. They may break off but are more likely to press on as long as they can. We doubt they’ll move against us tonight, given these conditions, but if they are as determined as we think they are, they’ll move against us as soon as daylight and circumstances allow them to.”

“Have you any extra weapons?”

“Right now the best I can do is offer you a sidearm. But rather than that, I’d like you to keep close to the fighting. If we take casualties, a weapon will present itself and we can use you. But there’s more.”

Tony finished his tea and handed the cup to Grant. He hadn’t shaved in two days and looked exhausted. He was running on adrenaline and determination.

“Now I need to tell you the bad news.” I braced myself. What could be worse than what he’d just told me? “The reason the vice president and cabinet believe the president is dead is that his life implant has failed. This is a device implanted in every president in the event of kidnapping. It’s one of the most closely guarded secrets relating to the president’s life, but you need to know. This device is designed to communicate under virtually any conditions. It’s connected to his biology and receives power from his body, so it’s not battery dependent. The signal was interrupted yesterday for the first time since its use was adopted. That’s the reason for the rumors that the president might be dead. But it soon re-established contact. Dr. Seaver now confirms, however, that the device is no longer operational.”

“I see, but why did it fail again?”

Tony clearly didn’t want to tell me the rest. “Scott, the president had a heart attack earlier. We’ve had to resuscitate him with a defibrillator twice, and we think that’s what knocked out the device for good.”

That explained the delays. “How is he?”

“Resting, stable. He’s a healthy, relatively young man. But he needs to be in a hospital, and no matter what takes place here, he’s in no condition to be moved. You understand?”

I nodded. “Once word gets out, this could be a problem. Doesn’t the Constitution call for the vice president to take over if he’s incapacitated? And since the vice president has already been sworn in, he might not want to give up control; the Cabinet might not want him to.”

“That’s tomorrow. For now we’ve got to get there.”

“So we make a stand until help arrives.”

“That’s it. We have no choice given his condition.” He sighed and for a moment I could see the full weight of responsibility that rested with him. “Grant will take you back to your people,” he continued. “I’ll see you at first light, when events will most likely play out.” He extended his hand. “Thank you for your help.”

As Grant led me back, my mind flashed through a series of scenarios. ‘Last stand’ came to me more than once. I hoped this didn’t turn into an Alamo.