possible."
"We'll need five crossbows and at least ten arrows per man.
"That's impossible. The plutonium source I have doesn't handle that amount of material."
"How many then?"
"I can't say now."
Bradford broke through the emotional barrier that controlled him and embraced Carlos.
"You make them and we'll pay."
Carlos, for his part, was reluctant to let Bradford leave. After a dinner invitation to his estate in La Hoya had been declined, his attitude became almost paternal.
"You're not going after a man, are you?"
"No. That'd be easy."
"Well, Dan, if you ever decide to go in for conventional assassination, I can put you in touch with a South African group. They're offering a million dollars in any currency for Amin. I think it would be less dangerous than whatever you're going after."
When the party reached Los Angeles, Bradford noticed the enormous changes in the city during the years of his self-banishment. The smog was grittier and thicker, the freeways resembled giant snakes undulating with thousands of cars, and the sprawl of suburbia had manifested itself in cluster developments and high-rises. He had not missed much in the growth of civilization.
At Kelty's the men were fitted with Loewa double boots, thermal underwear, down parkas, sweaters, gloves, rain pants. Bradford selected mummy sleeping bags with ensolite pads because they were lighter than air mattresses. He and Pemba had always used Fritsch Himalaya ice axes and Mannut Swiss parallel 11mm nylon-strand-sheathed rope, the latter easy to follow or spot from the air because it was bright orange. Because the other men were not as experienced as they were, Bradford insisted, over Pemba's objections, on sixty-foot lengths, since they kinked less than the one twenty.
The tents and the rest of the heavy equipment were loaded on Monte's Lear jet. In late afternoon, when Bradford finally stepped aboard the plane, he was seized by a dizzying fit of anxiety. He was troubled by the possibility of what might happen to these men whom he liked; more than anything, he wanted them to be able to enjoy the money they were being paid.
There was still a good deal of grumbling about the weapon he and Carlos had devised. Would it actually work? When he explained why he had selected a bow, only Packard supported him. The others gave the impression that they might hold out until the last night
before abandoning him. Even Pemba and he were becoming tense and antagonistic toward each other; he wondered whether the Sherpa who had once saved his life had now become snow-shy.
He told himself it didn't matter. If it came to it, he would go alone.
Chapter Twelve
The plane banked steeply through a web of dense clouds. Bradford was transfixed. The snow . . . he had thought he would never see it again. Glistening and forbidding, it possessed a mystery for him as inscrutable as the sea's. The attraction was so profound that he was shaken. He was a man who had been in exile. Now he had come home.
From the air he saw frozen alkali lakes. The mountain was made up of minarets and volcanic domes. Cirques, mosaiclike amphitheater-shaped bowls, formed giant pocks in the range.
The landing seemed to take forever. When he finally left the plane and felt the chill wind gust over the tarmac into his face, he embraced it like a lover. He felt the snow with his bare hands. The sense of complete peace that had eluded him during his wandering slowly returned. He was back in his element.
Intoxicated by the air, Bradford drove the large equipment-loaded truck with the window open. The men in the rear grumbled, but Pemba's good spirits had returned, and he was shouting, " Sherpas Zindabad! " Long live the Sherpas! Even the crunch of the tire chains grating on the slick, icy road excited him.
As they approached the lodge the traffic increased, and they saw groups of colorfully dressed people carrying their skis along the steep embankment. Surrounding them were the high Sierras, their summit
"We'll need five crossbows and at least ten arrows per man.
"That's impossible. The plutonium source I have doesn't handle that amount of material."
"How many then?"
"I can't say now."
Bradford broke through the emotional barrier that controlled him and embraced Carlos.
"You make them and we'll pay."
Carlos, for his part, was reluctant to let Bradford leave. After a dinner invitation to his estate in La Hoya had been declined, his attitude became almost paternal.
"You're not going after a man, are you?"
"No. That'd be easy."
"Well, Dan, if you ever decide to go in for conventional assassination, I can put you in touch with a South African group. They're offering a million dollars in any currency for Amin. I think it would be less dangerous than whatever you're going after."
When the party reached Los Angeles, Bradford noticed the enormous changes in the city during the years of his self-banishment. The smog was grittier and thicker, the freeways resembled giant snakes undulating with thousands of cars, and the sprawl of suburbia had manifested itself in cluster developments and high-rises. He had not missed much in the growth of civilization.
At Kelty's the men were fitted with Loewa double boots, thermal underwear, down parkas, sweaters, gloves, rain pants. Bradford selected mummy sleeping bags with ensolite pads because they were lighter than air mattresses. He and Pemba had always used Fritsch Himalaya ice axes and Mannut Swiss parallel 11mm nylon-strand-sheathed rope, the latter easy to follow or spot from the air because it was bright orange. Because the other men were not as experienced as they were, Bradford insisted, over Pemba's objections, on sixty-foot lengths, since they kinked less than the one twenty.
The tents and the rest of the heavy equipment were loaded on Monte's Lear jet. In late afternoon, when Bradford finally stepped aboard the plane, he was seized by a dizzying fit of anxiety. He was troubled by the possibility of what might happen to these men whom he liked; more than anything, he wanted them to be able to enjoy the money they were being paid.
There was still a good deal of grumbling about the weapon he and Carlos had devised. Would it actually work? When he explained why he had selected a bow, only Packard supported him. The others gave the impression that they might hold out until the last night
before abandoning him. Even Pemba and he were becoming tense and antagonistic toward each other; he wondered whether the Sherpa who had once saved his life had now become snow-shy.
He told himself it didn't matter. If it came to it, he would go alone.
Chapter Twelve
The plane banked steeply through a web of dense clouds. Bradford was transfixed. The snow . . . he had thought he would never see it again. Glistening and forbidding, it possessed a mystery for him as inscrutable as the sea's. The attraction was so profound that he was shaken. He was a man who had been in exile. Now he had come home.
From the air he saw frozen alkali lakes. The mountain was made up of minarets and volcanic domes. Cirques, mosaiclike amphitheater-shaped bowls, formed giant pocks in the range.
The landing seemed to take forever. When he finally left the plane and felt the chill wind gust over the tarmac into his face, he embraced it like a lover. He felt the snow with his bare hands. The sense of complete peace that had eluded him during his wandering slowly returned. He was back in his element.
Intoxicated by the air, Bradford drove the large equipment-loaded truck with the window open. The men in the rear grumbled, but Pemba's good spirits had returned, and he was shouting, " Sherpas Zindabad! " Long live the Sherpas! Even the crunch of the tire chains grating on the slick, icy road excited him.
As they approached the lodge the traffic increased, and they saw groups of colorfully dressed people carrying their skis along the steep embankment. Surrounding them were the high Sierras, their summit
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