Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22 The yak cart creaked down the dirt lane on the outskirts of the village of Tingri in Xigaze Prefecture. It contained twigs for kindling, dried yak manure for heating fuel, and Dan Cahill. He got out of the cart and handed over his last few coins to the driver. He was puffing on the thin air; his legs were so stiff they would barely support him; and he was flat broke in the middle of nowhere. But he had made it! After a thirty-hour train ride, four hours on a smelly bus, and twenty minutes in the company of sticks and yak poop, he was actually at the helipad his grandmother had told him about. The hangar was just an old barn. Only the French flag that doubled as a windsock hinted that this remote field was the home of the Ecureuil/A-Star 350, the helicopter that had landed on top of

the world. Everest. The peak towered over Dan as he approached the barn. Here it was only one feature in a titanic skyline, but it was the mightiest, the lord and master. The sight of it took his breath away— and breath was hard to come by at this altitude. He peered in the window of the barn, knowing a brief moment of panic. What if it wasn't there? He'd come an awfully long way to find out that the helicopter was— God forbid— in the shop or something. But no— there it was, looking just like the pictures Grace had shown him, futuristic and spare. The bubble was up, and someone was peering in at the instrument panel. Why is it so dark in there? Why doesn't he just turn on a light? Dan was about to knock on the door when he spotted the smashed padlock dangling from the hasp. That guy's stealing my ultralight! Without a moment's hesitation, Dan burst into

the barn and brought down the intruder with a flying tackle. The two fell to the concrete floor in a struggling heap. A flailing elbow hit Dan in the mouth, and he tasted blood. Enraged, he reached around and pressed the heel of his hand into his opponent's face. He was encouraged to note that the intruder was not much bigger than he was, and about equal in strength. Suddenly, pain shot through his hand, and he howled in shock. He bit me! They wrestled, rolling one over the other, until Dan found his face pressed against a metal grill, eyes staring in at— "Saladin?" His opponent's grip disintegrated. "Dan?" "Amy?" "Oh, God!" Nellie dropped the crowbar she was just about to bring down on Dan's head. The two Cahills scrambled up, each one goggling as if the sight of the other was a mirage. Then they were together in an ecstatic bear hug.

"Cut it out!" Dan complained. "You're strangling me!" But he didn't loosen his grip on his sister. Amy had been so worried for so long that the sudden evaporation of tension left her boneless. If she let go, she probably would have collapsed in a heap. "I thought I'd lost you! Just like we lost Mom and Dad!" "Why didn't you look for me?" Dan babbled. "We did! We never stopped!" "Oh, yeah? Then what are you doing here?" "Well, it must have been exactly the right place!" Amy snapped. "You showed up, didn't you?" "I caught the Holts on TV!" Dan pulled away. "Stop yelling at me! I missed you so much! I thought I'd never see you again!" He scanned the hangar. "And if you lost my computer—" Amy struggled to regain her composure. "You look taller," she said finally, devouring him with her eyes. "Don't be an idiot. It was only five days."

"I know…" There was a tremor in her voice. "But it was a very long five days. Dan, I'm so sorry—" And then his words percolated down to her. "Wait a minute! The Holts were on TV?" "They're climbing Mount Everest!" Dan exclaimed. "Like, right now! There has to be a clue up there!" Amy turned back to the A-Star. "We can beat them to the top. Right, Nellie?" "Wrong," the au pair said sadly. "I'm sorry, you guys, but there's no way I can fly this thing. It looks more like a cat's cradle than an aircraft. I'd get us all killed for sure." Amy and Dan regarded each other with anguish. Had fate brought them to the same spot in this tiny village in Everest's shadow only to stymie them now? At that moment, the lights flashed on and a sharp voice rang out: "Que faites-vous ici? What are you doing here?" Startled, the three turned to face the newcomer, a short, gaunt, middle-aged man in pilot's coveralls.

Shy Amy was tongue-tied. Not so Dan. "We need to go up Mount Everest," he blurted. The man laughed out loud. "I do not run a tourist service. If it is pretty pictures you want, they sell postcards in the village." Amy found her voice. "No, he means we have to go to the summit. Right away." The man's eyes narrowed. "Ah, so you know what the A-Star is capable of. Alors, this is impossible. Leave the property at once." "We'll pay," said Nellie. The man scowled. "The A-Star is a piece of technology unique in all the world. You do not rent it like a Jet Ski for one hour at the beach." The Cahills' despair was palpable. Up until now, they'd succeeded by thinking on their feet, improvising, and overcoming obstacles. This was different. There was only one quick way up Mount Everest— one that avoided the months of training, provisioning, acclimatizing, and climbing. It was this helicopter, period. The laws of science and nature provided no plan B. If the pilot refused to take them, what then?