LATE THAT EVENING THE POLICE IN MORTEN telephoned Val at the Chateau Nicholas, with a message about Cherry. He came reluctantly to tell her, as she stood at the open entrance looking at the night sky.
“The police advise you not to go with the rescue party, Cherry. They think the trip will be excessively hard for a girl. Besides, they say you have no experience in mountain climbing.”
Cherry was disappointed and a little indignant.
“I’d like to have you along,” Val said. “You know that, Cherry. I’ll do what I can, but—” He shrugged.
“Can the police prevent me from going?”
“No, but they can refuse to assume any responsibility for your safety if you go in spite of their warning.” Val’s voice grew softer. “You see, they’re trying to protect you. But I think I could protect you.”
Val gave her a long gentle look, and then a quick kiss. “I like you. I like you very, very much, Cherry.”
“Ah—well—I like you, too, Val.” His kiss had taken her by surprise. She moved lightly out of the circle of his arm. “What will it be like up on Spirit Mountain?”
He laughed. “You certainly have courage! It will be beautiful and rugged.”
“Try to take me along,” she begged.
“I will. Now what are you up to?” he asked as Cherry glanced at her wristwatch.
Cherry hesitated. Should she tell Val what was worrying her? She didn’t know what to do about it, except wait for Toni to come home. She’d seen him go out earlier this evening.
“Val, you remember we saw Toni and Marco swap ski poles?” Val nodded and his face lost its merry look. Cherry said, “Well, we’d better have a look at those poles.”
“We have no right to enter Toni’s room,” Val objected.
“I know that. But, Val, what are we going to do? We know something special must be going on with those ski poles! We’d better find out what.”
The police reluctantly had decided to send Toni with the rescue party, for this reason: the farmer and his wife, who guarded the prisoner, knew Toni. They were under orders not to admit anyone to the hut except Toni. The only way the rescuers could enter the hut was to go in with Toni.
Cherry murmured, “Having Toni along might turn out to be risky.”
Val’s face tightened. “I thought of that, too. So did the police—Toni may lead us into a trap. Why don’t I ask Eric to look at those ski poles?” Eric was the undercover police agent posing as a waiter. He had begun his double job serving dinner this evening. “No, his job is to watch Madame Sully.”
They stood there wondering how to get a look at Toni’s ski poles. The ticking of the enormous grandfather clock in the hall sounded loud in the quiet house. Most of the guests and staff were sleeping.
It was late when Toni came tripping into the house at a quick, jerky gait like a puppet. Cherry wondered where he had been. Just with friends? Val stiffened with distrust.
Toni sensed their feelings. He looked toward Cherry in an embarrassed way, avoiding Val’s stern eyes.
“Cherry, have you a minute to spare?” Toni asked. “I’d like to show you something. It’s in my room, if you don’t mind waiting while I get it?”
She caught her breath, then said calmly, “I’d like to see it, whatever it is.”
Val said in a distant manner, “Why don’t we both come with you, Toni?” It was the first time he’d spoken to Toni since yesterday.
“Oh—sure, sure,” Toni floundered. “Glad to have you come.”
The three walked self-consciously to Toni’s room. He took his key out of his ski pants pocket and unlocked the door. As he switched on the light, Cherry saw two slim metal poles standing in a corner against the wall, with skis upright beside them.
What Toni wanted to show Cherry was a scrapbook containing a few dog-eared articles about Toni Peter’s skill on skis. Two years ago he had won prizes during winter festivals in small towns. Toni eagerly showed these notices to Cherry and Val, as if now, in disgrace, he might in this way regain some reputation.
“Very nice. Good for you, Toni,” Cherry said, rather painfully. Val remained silent.
“I guess a few prizes don’t cancel out the bad things I’ve done,” Toni stammered.
He was so hurt by Val’s contempt that he walked right into a small wooden chair. It fell over backwards and struck the ski poles, which clattered to the floor. They made a light, tinkling sound, being lightweight and hollow like all metal ski poles. In falling, the top was knocked loose from one pole.
Cherry and Val stared down at the floor. Ski-pole tops with their attached straps were not ordinarily removable! Not only had the top been dislodged from the pole, but it was a screw top! Toni, always negligent, had failed to screw the top firmly on the ski pole.
Toni talked fast in his confusion. He did not make much sense. Val cut him short, demanding:
“What are these special ski poles all about?” When Toni hedged, Val pressed him. “Don’t you want to clear yourself?”
“Of course I want to!” Toni cried. “Only you don’t realize what—what danger I’ve gotten myself into!”
“Is this how you did the smuggling?” Val asked.
“Yes,” Toni admitted. “I forgot a couple of details when I told the police in Morten. But I told them and you everything important. Honestly!”
Val was dissatisfied. “Well, I hope you’ll really do the right thing, sooner or later. Good night, Toni.” He took Cherry’s arm and walked out.
The next day the weather was rough. Although mountaintop rescues sometimes were made by helicopters or by a small, single-engine airplane, a police check of the weather reports, relayed to Joe Wardi, showed “there is too much wind up there today. At least forty knots.” Ten knots was the maximum wind for landing a small plane on skis on a glacier. They would have to go on foot.
So that morning Joe Wardi, using a telescope, studied Le Solitaire Mountain across the valley. Le Solitaire formed the far, east wall of the valley and half hid the more distant Spirit Mountain.
“I believe I’ve spotted a safe route across Le Solitaire,” the mountain guide reported. “I can’t make out much on Spirit Mountain in the overcast, though.”
That morning Val had notified the police about Toni’s ski poles with screw tops. Then he went off to help Joe Wardi gather equipment and gear for the rescue trip. It would be a dangerous journey and required the most careful preparations.
Cherry, meanwhile, had reported to work at the small hospital, to find two patients in the ward beds. Yesterday afternoon while she and Dr. Portman had been in Morten, Mrs. Barth had admitted two new fracture patients, foolhardy skiers. Dr. Portman, after setting the bones, had had the women stay there overnight. Then, during the night, a seven-year-old boy in the village had developed pneumonia. Dr. Portman wanted to treat the boy at home with his family rather than send him to a hospital.
Besides his being overtired, Dr. Portman could not be spared to make the long, risky trip up Spirit Mountain. Farm communities in this valley and many skiers relied on him and his hospital.
Still, the man being held prisoner needed medical care. Someone qualified must go. His nurse would have to substitute. Cherry ignored the police warning and volunteered. At noon the police telephoned back accepting her.
“Cherry go along?” Mama Nicholas was horrified.
“A girl? It will be difficult for her,” said Joe Wardi. Papa Nicholas looked worried.
“I’ll take good care of Cherry,” Val said, in a tone that left no room for argument.
That evening after dinner, Mama Nicholas said anxiously to Cherry and Val, “I wish Toni was not going with you. I don’t trust him.”
“Don’t worry, Mama,” Val said.
But Mama Nicholas only sighed.
Val smiled at Cherry. “Our business now is to wax our skis, then go to bed early for a good, long night’s sleep. We’re starting at five tomorrow morning.”
Toni had warned the police that Jack Lenk might go to the remote hut on this same day. He wanted an additional handwritten letter from the kidnapped man. Toni did not know what for. The police would stay in hiding in two or three key areas near the hut in order not to scare Lenk off. They would approach Spirit Mountain from a different direction than the rescue party.
Val yawned. “It’s going to be five tomorrow morning before we know it!”
The snow was firm and thick, and the weather was good, Joe Wardi reported early the next morning. Night still darkened the west; the rest of the sky was opalescent through the windows of the chateau’s dining room as Val, Cherry, Joe Wardi, and Toni sat having breakfast. They were all too excited to eat much, despite Papa Nicholas’s urging. He had risen early, too, to see them off.
“Come back safe!” Val’s father called. He waved goodbye from the chateau’s doorway as they climbed into a neighbor’s car.
By full daybreak the neighbor had driven them across the valley, to the base of Le Solitaire Mountain. Here an old cable lift was still in use. They said goodbye and thanks to the neighbor. Joe, Val, and Toni fastened their packs of gear and supplies on their backs; Joe hung an ice ax onto his belt, and an iron hook for clutching ice in case they had to climb.
Up they went in the cable car, creaking and swinging, looking down on Eagle’s Peak easternmost houses, until the car rose above cloud level. Now they could look southeast and see the icy, glittering peak of Spirit Mountain. It rose high above the other great snowy peaks.
They crossed the snowy top of Le Solitaire Mountain on skis, pushing lightly with their poles in order to keep gliding ahead. Their skis whispered against the snow. Now they were schussing downhill, steeply, and over low, small, rocky ridges. Getting over meant making small jumps. Both Val and Toni glided nearer to assist Cherry. Was Toni trying to do his part? To prove himself? Val called:
“Approach the dip, then crouch down, tuck in your knees, then up. Insert the poles in the snow the instant before you jump. Now! Jump!”
Cherry tucked in her knees on the down motion, pushed out with her poles, and allowed herself to be carried in the air with her body stretched out, as if flying. She came down gently into running position.
“Bravo, Cherry!” Val called, soaring himself.
“Watch for crevasses!” Joe shouted back from his lead position. “Cherry, that means watch for gray, sagging snow—it stretches over an open pit—don’t fall into it!”
Joe Wardi picked the snow and the piste, or trail—a more or less straight, steep, downhill course. Once they passed a small, bare lodge that Cherry knew was sparsely furnished with bunks, chairs, table, fireplace, and a crude stove for emergency use by stranded skiers. Joe guided them past treacherous rock areas masked by a thin snow cover, then past some stunted trees.
Skiing down the southeastern slope of Le Solitaire Mountain to the bottom, they landed in a silent snow valley. Just ahead Spirit Mountain reared up, untracked, enormous.
Cherry stared up at the forbidding mountain. What a terrible place to hold the kidnapped man!
Joe Wardi was leading them across the snowfield, placing willow wands upright here and there as markers to help them find their way back. He stopped and gave them chocolate bars and oranges out of a rucksack, before making a start up Spirit Mountain. Taking a coil of rope from his shoulder, he said:
“You will be on one end, Toni. Cherry will be between Val and me.”
They took off their skis and stood in that order while the mountaineer tied the long rope from waist to waist, and finally tied the other end around himself. A distance of about twenty to thirty feet of slack rope separated each one of the party. Cherry realized that she, an amateur, could be included only because Joe, Val, and Toni were experienced climbers.
Val came over to her, bringing sealskins. “Hold still while I fasten these on your skis. The sealskins will let you all but walk right up the mountain.” He had enough for all their skis. “Give me your medical kit,” Val said. “I’d forgotten you had it strapped across your shoulder.”
She handed over the small, well-equipped kit that Dr. Portman had given her. As Val knelt to put the sealskins on her skis, his jacket fell open a little. Cherry saw he was wearing a piece of equipment slung over his shoulder.
“What’s that, Val? A radio? A walkie-talkie?” Cherry asked.
“A walkie-talkie so the police can hear what’s happening,” Val said. He looked closely at her. “Cherry, anything you want? If you need help, call me. Understood?” Val returned to his place in the rope line, and waved to her. “Ready!”
Cherry in turn swung around and waved to Toni. “Ready!” For the first time she noticed Toni was not wearing his red ski sweater, which resembled the jackets of certified ski instructors. As if chastened, or shrewd, Toni wore an old blue jacket. “Ready,” he called back. “Better put on your sunglasses.” The snow threw off a blinding glare as the sun rose higher.
They started up Spirit Mountain’s slope of snow and ice. The going was slow. Joe Wardi and Val, though, considered this fast climbing, almost 2,000 feet per hour. Spirit Mountain was about 5,900 feet above sea level, but fortunately they would not have to climb all the way to the summit. Toni said the hut was halfway up, at a small plateau. Joe Wardi led them, looking for settled snow that would not slide down and bury them, picking his way, keeping the rope belayed about the shaft of his ice ax.
Cherry, in this isolated world of ice and snow, was moved by the majestic, immense peaks and by the silence. Ahead of her, ahead of Val, she saw Joe Wardi cutting steps, one at a time, out of the snow and ice—steps to carry them up the slope.
“Cherry! Look higher up the mountain!” Val shouted over the whistling wind. Looming above them stood the round base and tumbled stones of an ancient tower. “Blue Castle! They say ghosts wafted the firewatcher away—”
Cherry nodded. Blue Castle was on the way, so they must be near the prisoner now. She was less interested in ghosts than in a flesh-and-blood racketeer and his captive. They climbed for a while, with difficulty. When they came to a protected hollow among some rocks, they rested.
Torn fragments of cloud drifted across them, obscuring, then revealing their faces. Toni’s face had lost its cocky air. Even his voice had grown small.
“Listen, I want to say something before we go in that hut. We’re almost there. Up behind that ledge, that’s where. Well, I—I—” Toni shook his head.
“Say it and be quick,” the mountaineer ordered him.
Toni looked Val straight in the eyes. “I’m no good. I’m sorry. I learned about decent people, living in your house. That’s all I have to say.”
They unroped. A trail of a few rocky yards brought them near a herdsman’s stone hut. A mud path led to its heavy wooden door. The few tiny windows were steamy. Toni motioned to them to keep out of sight among some stunted trees that sheltered the rear of the house.
Toni whispered that the hut was divided into three small rooms—a room entered by the front door; a kitchen entered by the back door; and a middle room. “They keep the prisoner in the middle room.”
As they silently circled the hut, hiding in the trees, Toni pointed out that the kitchen door was locked and barred from the outside. “To lock the sick man in. And the front door—the only one Otto uses—is locked from the inside. Don’t worry. Once I’m in, I’ll unlock the front door for you.”
“Wait for your best chance,” Val muttered to Toni.
They silently circled the hut, emerging on the south side of Spirit Mountain. Toni motioned; they ran and hid behind a woodshed. From there, they discovered that the hut stood on and commanded a broad, rolling snow pasture, looking southeast. The farmer would have seen them had they come that way instead of from the north.
On the mountain’s south face a river, now choked with snow, had cut downward so that the mountain sloped away—“to the Swiss-Italian border,” Val whispered to Cherry. “This is a strategic location for any illegal across-the-border operations.”
Joe Wardi used his binoculars. “I estimate we are less than five miles from Lake Lugano.” The lake lay far below, half in Switzerland, half in Italy.
Cherry eyed the hut. According to plan, Toni boldly went to the door and knocked. Val and Joe waited behind the small woodshed.
Only Cherry was to enter the hut when Toni did—not as a nurse. Because, Toni had warned, the farmer would not knowingly admit a nurse. He, like Toni, must have been instructed to give the sick man absolutely no medical aid.
A pretense of fatigue would get her into the hut. Then Val and Joe Wardi were to rush in while the door was still open, or Toni would unlock it for them.
Cherry did not know what the next move then would be. Her single purpose was to treat the sick man, whether or not a fight broke out.
Toni knocked again. A face appeared murkily at a window. Then the door opened and the farmer, a rawboned, sharp-faced man, scolded:
“What do you mean by coming here, Toni? You are not supposed to be here today.”
Toni rubbed his cold cheeks. “I didn’t come up here to see you. Or your wife or that poor joker, either. I’m around here skiing with my girl, see, and she’s got a chill, and tired. You know what a nuisance girls are. So just let us in to get warm.”
Cherry came limping into the farmer’s view, carrying her skis over her shoulder. She made her teeth chatter, and huddled near Toni, shivering. The farmer stared at her.
“All right, five, ten minutes,” the farmer said grudgingly. “Then out you go.”
“Don’t let anybody in, that’s what the boss said!” a woman grumbled. Over the farmer’s shoulder peered his wife’s squinting face.
A third voice, weak and frightened, called, “Who’s there? Somebody, help me!”