Operation Snake Read online

  "Hello, Yank," she said in a very British voice. "I've been looking for you. I just left our friend Harry Angsley. My name's Hilary Cobb, Manchester Journal and Record."

  Angsley hadn't said his journalist nemesis was a girl and a damned attractive one, as much as I could see. She wore slacks, which can hide a multitude of sins, but her legs were long and her breasts swelled the parka, an accomplishment of sorts. I watched her eyes rove over the purchases I was lugging out of the store.

  "Going mountaineering?" she smiled, falling into step beside me. "I think we'd best have a little talk, Yank. I'd like to help you if you cooperate with me."

  She was, I quickly saw, one of those active, aggressive British girls who torpedo their attractiveness by their bulldog determination to be completely unfeminine. I was in no mood for anything bothersome, and I decided to set her straight fast.

  "I would forget all about me, honey," I said. "Make like you never saw me."

  "The name is Hilary," she said crisply.

  "Okay, Hilary," I said. "See how agreeable I am. Now you be agreeable. If I get a story for you, I'll tell you when I pass back this way."

  "Don't be childish," she said snappishly. "Your being here is a story already. Besides, I've been around too long to buy that land of put-off. Something big is going on here. We figured that when we learned Harry Angsley had been sent here. So don't put on that big, fierce bear routine, old boy. Hilary doesn't scare off."

  There was a hostility about her that bugged me at once. I've always disliked hostile women. They were always fighting the war between the sexes, usually inventing imaginary slights to fight over.

  "I strongly suggest you cooperate with me," she said, flashing a dazzling smile. She had a pretty face despite her annoying attitude.

  "That sounds like a threat, doll," I commented, trudging on through the snow-covered streets.

  "Advice," she smiled again. "I could get in your hair in lots of ways, and I will unless you let me in on the ground floor, as you Yanks say. I can be thoroughly disagreeable."

  "You're proving that, already," I growled. "Now, I'll give you a bit of advice, doll. Get lost."

  She stopped and I walked on, feeling the glare of her eyes at my back. I always felt a sense of waste when I met a girl with her face and her attitude. Under other conditions, I would have tried changing that hostility into something warmer. Here, I was too generally annoyed to bother with anything but getting a room at the local inn. Angsley had told them to have one ready and they did, a small cubby with a square window. The inn was not much more than a large, converted stable but it was warm and a place to eat as darkness fell. I put the gear in my room and went downstairs for a bite, stepping over two chickens squatting on the lower step of the wooden stairway.

  A fire leaped in the large fireplace to one side of the room. I had yak steak, which left a lot to be desired, and some of the Nepalese staple, good old-fashioned potatoes. The local brew, a warmish beer called chang, did little to excite me, and I switched to tea which was at least strong. I was midway into dinner when I saw her come down the staircase and head toward me. There were about twelve rooms at the inn and I should have figured she'd be in one of them. She wore a light-blue, wool sweater which her breasts pushed up and outwards sharply, and her legs were full but well shaped. Her hair, previously hidden by the hood of the parka, was ash blonde and short. I watched her approach and let my glance take her in, unabashedly lingering on the full swell of her breasts as she halted at the table.

  She waited, eyes narrowed, coolly watching me, lips pursed.

  "Finished?" she finally said.

  "Nice equipment" I commented, between bites of my yak steak. "Too bad it's not on some other girl."

  "You mean on your kind of girl."

  "What's that?" I asked, smiling up at her.

  "The kind that wants to stare into your bright, blue eyes and feel your muscles and be impressed," she said. "The land that caters to your ego by being willing to fall into bed with you at the drop of a hat."

  "Make that trousers," I said.

  "Have you thought about what I said?" she asked coldly.

  "Not for a second, Hilary, honey," I said-

  "You're going to remain uncooperative, I take it."

  "You take it right, sweetie," I answered.

  "Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, turning and striding off.

  "Hilary," I called after her. She halted instantly and turned around. "Don't talk like that," I grinned. "It scares me so I tremble. Notice?"

  Her lips tightened and she stalked off. She did have good equipment, I reflected, watching her rear wiggle off. I wondered if anyone ever used it. I struggled through the rest of my yak steak, and was just finishing tea when I saw a kid enter and walk to the desk. The Nepalese there pointed in my direction and the kid came over to me. He thrust a note at me. I flipped it open quickly.

  "Unexpected developments. Please get here as quickly as you can. Angsley."

  I handed the kid a quarter, bundled up, and went into the night. The wind tore into me at once, and I watched a line of Sherpas moving into the village, their snow-crusted clothes evidence that they'd just come down from the mountain passes. At the hospital, the English-trained Nepalese nurse told me that Harry Angsley was asleep. I showed her the note and she frowned.

  "Impossible, sir," she said. "Mr. Angsley's been asleep for hours. He's had no one here to take a message for him. In fact, the medication we give him after dinner usually sedates him through the night"

  Now I was frowning, and a sinking feeling had seized the pit of my stomach. I ran all the way back to the inn, my lungs burning from the cold air as I reached my room. I flung open the door and the sinking feeling Sunk deeper. All the equipment I'd purchased was gone. Heavy parka, snow gear, boots, rifle, everything. Without it, I wouldn't stand a chance getting through Tesi Pass, where I was to meet the guide from the Leeunghi family. Without it, I wouldn't be going anywhere. Harry Angsley's words leaped up in my head. Don't underrate the place, he'd said. It comes at you in a hundred different ways. It was neat, even clever. No rough stuff, just a neat job of fencing me in. I looked at the door to my room. It was such a simple latch that a child could pry it open. Through the square little window I saw that it had started to snow. Shoving a heavy chair against the door, I went to bed. I'd pay another visit to Danders' store in the morning, but it was extremely unlikely he'd have a thing I could use, and I had to be on my way into that pass by noon. Maybe Angsley would have an idea.

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep, which wasn't that hard. On the bed beside me I'd placed Wilhelmina, my 9mm Luger that was a part of me, always strapped into its shoulder holster. Hugo, my pencil-thin stiletto, lay in its sheath along my right forearm. I had taken no special equipment on this job. There hadn't been time, as Hawk had said. The call from the British was urgent and entirely unexpected. On this one there would be just Wilhelmina, Hugo and me. Maybe I wouldn't need either of them. One could always hope.

  I slept well. It was a trick I'd taught myself long ago. The morning sun was filtering coldly through the little window when I awakened, and I was at Danders Trading Store as he opened. As I feared, he hadn't a damned thing I could even make fit. I was on my way to the hospital to see Angsley when Hilary Cobb intercepted me. I was in no mood for more of her foolishness.

  "Buzz off," I growled, brushing past her.

  "Suppose I could help you," she said. "I heard you were robbed last night."

  I paused, turned and gave her a long look. I had told the desk clerk at the inn, and he could have relayed it to her, but suddenly my sixth sense told me that wasn't so.

  "How could you help me?" I asked quietly. She was very casual and self-controlled.

  "I might have some equipment that would fit you," she said airily.

  "Such as a heavy-weather parka?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said casually.

  "And boots that might fit me?"

  "They just might,"
she smiled.

  "Maybe you have a rifle, too?"

  "I just might," she said smugly. She didn't read the deadliness in my voice. She was too busy being smug and enjoying her own cleverness. "Of course, you'd have to cooperate with me," she added cutely.

  You little bitch, I said inwardly to myself. It was obvious what had happened. She'd sent the note, slipped into my room, and made off with my things. I looked at her and silently called her a host of names. Among them was the word "amateur." She was so pleased with her little caper. I decided to teach her a lesson.

  "I guess I'll have to cooperate with you," I smiled. "Where do you have my… this equipment you can let me have?"

  "In my room," she smiled smugly. I returned her smile and once again she failed to see the deadliness in it Amateur, I said to myself again. "Then you'll cooperate properly?" she questioned again. "Promise."

  I smiled, putting some sheepishness into it. "I'll cooperate properly, I promise," I said. "Let's get the stuff. I've got to be on my way."

  "We'll be on our way," she corrected, starting off for the inn. I wore a proper air of resignation mixed with reluctant admiration, and she went for it like a fish for a worm. "I guess I underestimated you," I said respectfully, watching her lap it up.

  As she opened the door to her room I quickly swept the place, seeing that my stuff was all there. It was neatly piled into a corner. On the bed there was an open traveling bag, and I watched her take off her parka. She was just turning toward me when I had her by the back of the neck, holding her with one big, angry hand. I slammed her face down on the bed, yanked her sweater up and off and tied the sleeves around her, pinning her arms behind her back. She tried to scream but I turned her over and slapped her once, just hard enough to make her teeth rattle. I yanked her to her feet and then slammed her down in a chair. With a stocking I snatched from her open traveling bag, I tied her to the chair and stepped back. Her breasts spilled over the brassiere and her eyes were no longer complacent and smug but full of terror.

  "What… what are you going to do?" she stammered. "Please, I… I was only trying to do my job."

  I unhooked the bra and whipped it from her. She gasped as though she'd been struck, and I saw tears well up in her eyes. Her breasts were beautifully peaked, full and taut with the flat nipples of the virgin.

  "You… you louse," she said through her tears, gasping out the word. "You promised you'd cooperate with me properly."

  "I'm cooperating with you properly," I said. "I'm fixing it so you won't have to trudge through all that ice and snow and maybe get into more trouble."

  I reached one hand down and cupped it around one breast, full and firm with smooth, youthful skin. She tried to shrink back and shivered. Tears filled her eyes again but her anger fought through them.

  "I'll fix you for this, I swear it," she breathed. "You leave me alone, do you hear?"

  "I hear," I said, running my thumb over her nipple. She gasped again and tried to pull away. "Now you hear. I could do anything I wanted to do with you," I said, stepping back. "I could teach you what it's like to be a girl or I could just embarrass the hell out of you. Or, I could drop you off a cliff and nobody'd much know or care here. In short, Hilary, honey, you're operating out of your league. You're playing and I'm serious. That's your first lesson. The second one is never trust anyone you've just zinged."

  "Give me my clothes," she said, defiance fighting through her fright.

  "No dice," I said. "You'll work yourself loose by late afternoon and you can get dressed then. All you'll have is a slight case of chillblains. And one last thing. You're lucky. I can be a much bigger louse'."

  I walked out and looked back at her. Her anger had taken over, now that she was sure I wasn't going to rape her. I enjoyed watching her turn different shades of red as I lingered to explore her breasts with my eyes.

  "As I said, nice equipment," I commented with a grin. "Go back to Manchester and try using it."

  I closed the door, taking my gear with me. Not more than ten minutes later I was suited up and on my way. I'd been given a rough map of the Tesi Pass through the glaciers. The rest was up to me. The cluster of houses grew smaller and more inviting as I struck out down a glacial slope, pack on my back, the Marlin 336 slung over one shoulder. "Hilary Cobb," I said into the wind. "You don't know it but I've done you a helluva favor."

  Chapter II

  I don't think I ever felt quite so small and alone and overpowered as I made my way through the winding, ice-slick paths of the Himalayan range. I'd quickly lost sight of the village and as I trudged on, the wind tore and whipped at me like some avenging, wrathful spirit bent on destroying the stranger in its land. Behind me, I could make out the towering peak of Everest, tallest of them all, with Lhotse close beside it. To the right of them, across a terrifying series of jagged peaks, stood Makelu and to the left the heaven-scraping Cho Oyu. As I descended deeper into the range, I was surrounded by sheets of ice and vast regions of snow. Gaping crevasses, large enough to lose an army in, loomed up on all sides, and glacial slopes cut through the precariously marked path I followed. The sharp sounds of shifting ice, cracking glaciers and the rumble of snowslides, gave me a feeling of helplessness in the face of nature's awesome strength. I paused to tighten a bootstrap. My fingers stiffened in the time it took me to tighten the laces. I felt the skin of my face grow hard as the wind and the cold combined to give a mask-like texture to my features. And I was descending into the Tesi Pass. I shuddered to think what it was like climbing up toward the tops of those frightening peaks.

  I paused at a cluster of ice-free rocks to take out the map and check my position. According to the simplified route traced out, I was in position. A sudden noise startled me and I swung the Marlin from my shoulder to see three tahrs, the Himalayan goats, bounding across the rocky terrain, their reddish, thick coats reflecting the rays of the setting afternoon sun. I watched them move effortlessly up the crags and started to hike on, envying them. The afternoon sun was now gone, hidden behind the towering peaks, and it would be dark very quickly. I hurried my pace and reached the mouth of the route known as Tesi Pass. It wound its way between the great mountains, a narrow ribbon amid the uncharted vastness of glacial ice, rock and snowdrifts. My instructions were to make camp anywhere within the pass and the guide, spotting my campfire, would find me. I picked a spot sheltered from the swirling wind and spent the remaining daylight hours gathering firewood. Amid the towering sentinels of unyielding rock, crowned by eternal snows, twisted, gnarled and mossy rhododendron trees somehow grew in defiance of all natural logic. As I gathered enough small twigs to start the fire and enough larger wood to keep it going, I saw musk deer and pheasant filtering through the trees. As I had enough dried meat in my pack I needed nothing further, and I lugged the wood back to the spot I'd chosen.

  It was getting dark and I was starting to light the fire, using my lighter, when I was suddenly aware that I was not alone. I dropped the Marlin into my hands and whirled to face the figure standing quietly some fifty yards away. The man began to advance slowly, raising one arm in greeting, and I lowered the gun. His face, all but hidden beneath the low, furred hood of his parka, revealed weathered skin, small eyes and the flat, wide cheekbones of the Nepalese people. His legs were encased in yards of cloth, and goatskin boots covered his feet. The man walked up to me and spoke in halting English.

  "You wait for guide," he said. My eyebrows went up.

  "You aren't due for hours," I said.

  "Me early," he answered. "You go to Leeunghi family?"

  I nodded, and he motioned with a wave of his arm to follow.

  "Long trip," he said. "Me come early. Make much time by night this way."

  I shrugged. It had been my understanding that night travel through the pass was especially dangerous, but I wasn't equipped to argue the point. Besides, I hadn't relished the idea of spending most of the night alone by the fire in the vast emptiness of the pass with only the howling wind to keep me company. Tha
t is, if I were lucky. There were no doubt wolves in this area. And, I smiled to myself, there was always the yeti, the abominable snowman. I cast a backward glance at my unlighted pyramid of wood and followed after my guide. He moved with the surefootedness of the tahrs and I found myself scrambling and slipping to stay a reasonable distance behind him. He set a path that took us out of the pass at the first cut and climbed upwards, scrambling over slippery ice-covered cliffsides and along narrow ledges. Night fell, and we continued upwards in the darkness and then, with a special magic of its own, the moon came up and reflected an ice-blue brilliance from the snow and glacial formations. The blackness of the rocks was a startling contrast to the snow, and as I looked out over the wildness it had the angularity and sharp, etched pattern of a Duchamps or a Mondrian canvas. I could see my guide clearly now, just ahead of me, and we had come to a fairly broad ledge of rock.

  "We rest here," he grunted, leaning back against the ice-covered wall of rock rising up from the one side of the ledge. I knelt, set down my pack, and gazed in awe at the magnificence of the sight stretching before my eyes, an awesome beauty that not even the bitter cold could dispel.

  Hawk was fond of saying that a top agent in this grim, nasty business had to have the experience of an octagenarian, the reflexes of a cat, the nerves of a trapeze artist and the psychic ability of a clairvoyant. If he wanted to stay alive, that is. The psychic part I'd always found especially true, and suddenly it came true again. The hair on the back of my neck was not too frozen to stand suddenly, and I felt it rise as I sat on my haunches looking out at the awesome panorama. I whirled just as he came at me, both arms outstretched to push me headlong over the edge. I had only one chance and I took it, diving to the ground and grabbing his leg. He toppled, falling over me, and we both narrowly missed rolling over the edge. I got one leg up enough to push myself forward and I slid out from under him. But he was, as I'd already seen, part mountain goat, and he was on his feet and atop me, driving me back with the force of his attack. I felt my footing go out from under me on a stretch of ice and I went down. His hands were reaching for my throat, strong hands with powerful arms. I got a heel into a crack in the rock and pushed. He rolled to one side as I threw him off. I crossed a right and felt it bounce harmlessly off the heavy fur edge of his hood.