The Everest Files by Matt Dickinson Page B

room.
    â€˜Don’t take any notice of him,’ the frog man said with a sly laugh, ‘I’m not hustling you guys. I just wanted to ask you how things are going with Alex Brennan.’
    The three Sherpa lads exchanged a glance. The question seemed innocent enough.
    â€˜Things are going very well, sir,’ Nima replied earnestly. ‘He’s a great boss.’
    â€˜How about that journalist, Sasha? She fitting in OK?’
    â€˜No problems, sir,’ Kami told him, ‘a nice person.’
    â€˜That’s great. That’s all good news.’
    He drank again and poured some of the beer into a glass which he offered to them. Kami declined but Nima and Pemba took an enthusiastic swig.
    â€˜You think those two are an
item
?’ he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he winked lecherously at them. ‘You know what I mean by that, right? Maybe you’ve seen them sharing a tent in the night?’
    The three Sherpas looked at him in surprise. The question seemed bizarre to them. Kami felt the first stirrings of alarm. This character didn’t inspire much confidence.
    â€˜No sir,’ he said firmly. ‘Nothing like that.’
    â€˜You see Alex Brennan is engaged to a lovely lady back home. She’s rich and famous like him so people like to read about them in the newspapers. That’s why if there was a photo, for example, of that journalist Sasha coming out of Alex’s tent one morning then it might be worth a lot of money to you guys.’
    Pemba’s expression brightened at the mention of cash.
    â€˜How much money?’ he asked.
    Kami didn’t like the way the conversation was going and he kicked Pemba beneath the table to warn him to shut up. But Pemba just glared at him and kicked back harder.
    â€˜A couple of hundred dollars, maybe more.’ The frog man said. ‘But there would have to be a photo, you understand? The two of them together doing something … intimate.’
    Pemba whistled happily at the sound of all that cash. Nima gave an eager nod, downed the rest of his beer as Kami glared at him.
    â€˜Have you got a camera?’ the man asked.
    â€˜Kami’s got one,’ Nima said.
    â€˜Great.’
    The frog man reached into his pocket, extracting a wallet from which he pulled some business cards.
    â€˜Here’s my contact details. You guys know how to use email, right?’
    â€˜Yes, sir,’ Pemba replied eagerly. ‘There are internet cafes in almost all the villages now.’
    â€˜Great. OK, so I’ll look forward to hearing from you if you see anything like that.’
    Kami didn’t want to offend the man so – along with the other two – he put the card in the pocket of his fleece and left him to his beer.
    Back in the kitchen Kami rounded on the other two. ‘You shouldn’t get involved with that guy,’ he told them sharply.
    â€˜Why not?’ Nima shrugged. ‘Money is money, right?’
    â€˜Can’t you see he’s stirring things up? He’s a troublemaker.’
    Pemba turned on Kami. ‘So what? All he needs is one stupid photo. If we can make some honest money out of it then who cares?’
    â€˜But it’s not honest money,’ Kami insisted, ‘the boss is the boss. You’d be betraying him.’
    â€˜Anyway, maybe nothing’s going to happen,’ Nima said sulkily. ‘The boss will keep his hands off that girl and that’ll be the end of it.’
    â€˜Just forget about it,’ Kami told them.
    Back in the Sherpa tent, Kami found sleep was elusive. The row with Nima and Pemba had been upsetting and he was angry with Nima for siding against him.
    When he did manage to slip away he was plagued by unsettling dreams.
    The next day turned into something of a fiasco. The late night party had left the press guys groggy and their faces were a picture when they realised there was a brisk thirty-minute climb up a steep hill