Late in the afternoon, I spotted the camp marker— Scottie’s scarf wrapped around a rock like a hobo’s bundle—and turned up the steep slope, then descended at an equally steep pitch through a stand of trees. The meadow Scottie had selected was beautiful and green, gently undulating, and the views of Kanji Roba’s walls were spectacular. There was even a creek where we could wash in freezing, clean water. Such a simple pleasure taken so for granted. This would be our home for three nights.
After my bath, I dressed in warm clothes, lay down on the closely cropped grass, and fell into a deep sleep. I was so exhausted by the exercise, even the altitude had stopped bothering me.
William woke me up, fear in his eyes.
“What?” I sat up instantly.
“Armand’s been arrested.”
“What?”
“I just talked to the office. Interpol came and arrested him yesterday afternoon.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“The secretary said they’re waiting for me, too. In Kathmandu. They have a warrant for my arrest.” William sat down heavily next to me. “I don’t know what to do.”
William motioned over his shoulder, and I spotted her lounging next to Patty, eating a Snickers bar, at least her fifth of the day. They were talking at the same time like ladies at a beauty parlor. “Don’t tell her, Nigel. I don’t want her to know.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
But it was too late. She’d seen that something was up.
“Oh, man,” she whistled after he’d broken the news. I prayed she wouldn’t add “bad karma,” or “bummer,” because I think William probably would have punched her. “What was he arrested for?”
“Grand theft. The Gardner works.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Armand didn’t steal the Gardner works, but now they’ll start digging. Our entire business will fall like a house of cards.”
The three of us discussed his options, which were few. William was a master of disguise, but his passport was his passport, and where and how could he go about getting false papers in Nepal? It took him under ten minutes to bite all his fingernails to the quick.
“Don’t worry, William,” Madam said, getting to her feet. “We’ll think of something.”
“I think she turned us in,” he said after she was out of earshot.
“Who?”
“Jackie. I think she turned Armand and me in to Interpol.”
“She would never do that.”
He looked at me like I was stupid.
“She wouldn’t,” I insisted, but deep down, I had a sinking feeling she had.
“I’d rather die than go to prison.”
Dinner that night was a subdued affair. Everyone was tired from the day’s exertions, our legs were like jelly, and something had gone wrong between Patty and Ryder, which made the already strained atmosphere even more uncomfortable. William took his plate and ate by himself outside the main tent, rebuffing all my efforts to draw him out and discuss the situation. After dinner, Patty and Madam sat and talked late into the evening.
The next morning we bid farewell to Jim and Eva King, who were going to cross deeper into Dolpo. We watched them, with eight yaks, four Sherpas, and a band of porters disappear into the fog on the other side of the pass, and then we all retreated into our own worlds. The group was silent and reflective. William was unreachable as he sat on the ground and fiddled with his camera, carefully sliding the heavy photographic plates into their individual pockets in his pack.
“William,” Madam said. “I’d like to talk to you.”
His face was a mask.
“I promise you, I did not turn in you and Armand. I would never do such a thing.”
“How did they find out?” His voice was hard and accusatory. “We’ve been in business for thirty years with no problems. Then we let you in on the process, and all of a sudden, we’re caught. I’ve lived a hard life, I’ve done time, and I’ll tell you, I don’t intend to do more. I resent the fact that you’ve turned me into a fugitive. You could have at least waited until I had a few more options instead of blowing the whistle when we’re at the end of the earth.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“I should have killed you when I had the chance.” He turned back to his plates. The conversation was over.
The next morning, not long after breakfast, the five of us set out, seemingly in five different directions.
I made it a point not to see anyone that day. We’d be back in the real world soon enough. I was up and down the cliffs like a mountain goat and was the first to the camp that afternoon. Madam wandered in not long after I did, and after a bath in the creek, modestly concealed behind a portable screen, she retired to her tent for a nap. As before, I bathed and then napped in the afternoon sun. About an hour later, I awoke to see Ryder leaning comfortably against a rock, reading a book and pouring brandy into his tea. The only sound was the snuffling of the yaks. It was idyllic. I fell back to sleep.