Climbing High (3 page)

When brought into the loop, Gribbs, his head of security, narrowed his eyes, making it obvious he disapproved of Jake climbing with a bunch of strangers. That he couldn’t tell Gribbs a thing about them, assuming Suray, AKA mystery woman, would act as his threshold to information, made Jake even more irritable. He felt like a damn fool. Nonetheless, he growled at Gribbs to get used to the idea. He wanted this climb. His time constraints, now pushed to the max, meant he couldn’t afford to travel down the night before. He rode the edge of his temper when he thought of the lost time with Suray. Siree?
Dammit, Siree
. At least a Siree existed.

Finchley hammered away at her keyboard getting the proposal ready for the client and hunched her shoulders every time he even hinted about changing an appointment. Though she travelled with him everywhere business demanded, Finchley hated to be outside Canada. Generally, she’d set up headquarters in an executive suite and never stick her nose out the door. The longer they were in another country the more annoying she became. Usually his long time affection allowed Jake to put up with her complaining. This time he rode the grumpy bus with her. Raking his fingers through his hair, he decided to give them both a break. He instructed her to finish the proposal and get herself on the next flight home.

Chapter Two

Jake strode into the lobby of the Mount Blanc Chateau ten minutes ahead of schedule and found his mystery woman waiting for him. He and Gribbs had flown in by helicopter. Gribbs, still ticked off at Jake’s refusal to have him on the climb, ordered him to keep a low profile. Gribbs loitered just inside the lobby door, passing himself off as a businessman in his dark suit.

Siree greeted Jake with the same cordial smile she gave to the concierge. Before he could react to her disinterest she turned to acknowledge the call of one of her friends. If she wanted something from him, she couldn’t be playing him better. His hunting instinct kicked up a notch. Her climbing buddies tumbled out of the elevator like a litter of boisterous puppies. They wore coated nylon pants and soft shell hoodies to combat the cold in pre-dawn mountains, similar to his. Beneath he wore lighter clothing, knowing that by mid-day he’d be sweating and happy to shed a layer. From the quality of their backpacks and gear, he sorted out the experienced from the amateurs. It looked like a mixed bag.

Intros were fast and noisy. Jake met a German couple, Sig and Gretta. Lara and Frankie greeted him in French. They seemed to be close friends without a sexual connection. The final man, Ernst, seemed out of type with the others. He had a few years on them, limited wear on his gear and seemed more determined to stick to Siree than to climb.

They hopped into a seven seat minivan. Sig drove, inviting Jake to sit up front and go over the plan for the climb. It took forty minutes to wind their way to the base of the north face. Mont Blanc, the White Lady, towered above them. Though not their goal for the day, she made an impressive mark on the landscape. For this last climb of the summer they wanted a lesser peak, one that allowed for the free climbing they loved; with man and rock pitting themselves against each other.

From the back seat, Lara and Frankie noisily lobbied to head for the Argentierre basin, an easy day climb of only one thousand metres. Sig, Gretta, and Siree held out for the peak called La Verte, with just as much volume. After a moment’s hesitation, Ernst agreed with Siree.

“What’s your vote?” Sig asked Jake.

Silence filled the vehicle.

“La Verte. I came looking for a harder climb, but don’t know why it can’t serve both purposes. The early stage of either climb will be fairly easy and when the difficulty increases, those who want can turn back.”

Like disturbed bats streaming from a cave, a cacophony of agreement exploded the silence.

Dodging potholes and broken rock like a slalom skier, Sig drove the deteriorating road to the north side, parking the minivan in a scooped out lot at the base of the first incline. Darkness cloaked the valleys and fog draped the high peaks around them in silver veils. Inside the van they checked their maps, GPS, and went over the routes again. Then they clambered out to pull on their climbing shoes and spot check each other’s gear. A line of yellow outlined the awesome peaks to the east. They began to climb toward the sun.

Sig took lead threading the jumble of large rocks and scree patches that made up the lower slope. With a quick look over her shoulder at Jake, Siree moved out with Gretta and Ernst vying for position behind her. Ernst pushed himself past Gretta. Jake felt embarrassed for the guy. His obvious interest in Siree looked to be one-sided. The corner of his mouth kicked up. At least Ernst got a little attention, while all he’d seen of her so far was her slender back.

Fastening his helmet and securing his chalk bag to the strap of his pack, Jake took the rear behind Lara and Frankie and spent the next two hours of grey light helping them whenever possible, without making it obvious. Gutsy and determined, they moved methodically up the lower slopes. Their cautious approach relieved Jake, even though it forced a much slower pace on him. Switching to their native French, he asked casual questions that netted him a lot of information on Siree. She wouldn’t be able to hide from him at the end of the day, this time. It seemed she’d attended the University of Munich with Sig and Gretta to get her economics degree, taken her Master of Finance at the Sorbonne, where she’d become friends with Lara and Frankie; then finished her PhD in Finance at Rotman School in Toronto. He processed the fact she’d lived only miles from him for several years. Ernst, new to the group, just as he’d thought, had parleyed coffee with Siree at work into a request to join the climb. Lara grimaced when she made that comment. Jake winced inwardly, wondering if he’d been slotted in the same category and not liking the comparison.
Dammit, I just wanted a good climb
.

“Whenever Siree comes to France on business she arranges a few extra days and we meet up,” Frankie said.

“We started climbing together as students,” Lara explained. “Sig and Gretta live in Frankfurt, now. They took time off so we could do some climbing and reconnect. They climb all the time, and Siree loves this climbing a lot more than we do,” Lara added, “so she climbs wherever she goes and we only climb when she comes here.”

Which explained the different levels of expertise
.

“Ernst works for Siree’s client and has tagged along all week,” Lara complained. Her eyes rolled. “We’re not sure how much experience he has.”

Lara and Frankie both worked in the world of finance and knew Jake’s company and reputation.

“Knock it off. You make me feel like an old man you’re going to have to help off the mountain,” he joked when Lara answered yet another question with exquisite politeness. Their constraint vanished after that, and they included him in their teasing.

Once they’d broken out of the tree line and crossed the loose scree bridging it to the granite sheets rising above, Jake moved ahead so he could show Lara the best hand and foot holds. Above he could hear Siree directing Ernst in the same way. Free climbing meant no ropes or harnesses as safeguards, just plenty of nerve. Ernst seemed to be muscling through on more determination than skill. Siree’s patient instruction floated down to Jake, making him hunger for her to focus the same attention on him.

It took two hours to hit the three hundred metre mark, over twice the time for a good climber. The slower pace worked against those having to hold themselves back to allow Lara and Frankie to keep up. Experienced climbers often accommodated beginners, allowing them to gain experience in turn. Jake didn’t begrudge doing this for other climbers. But with the mountain changing from gentle slopes to straight verticals, Lara had reached the high point of ability and invited an accident if she pushed beyond. Frankie too struggled. Thirty meters above him, Jake noted a ledge stretched across the incline. He estimated it to be long enough to hold them all.

“Sig, we’re about ready for a rest,” he called up. “How about stopping on the ledge above you?”

Sig pulled himself on to the ledge and turned to wave. Siree pivoted herself over the edge then rolled and sat up. She moved over, making room for Gretta, who’d passed Ernst on the steeper face. Ernst thrust his head above the ledge and put out a hand for Siree to haul him over. Sig reached down and jerked Ernst over the edge. When Jake reached the lip below the ledge he moved horizontally on the steep cliff to let Lara take advantage of the best toeholds, and gave her a boost when she hung half on, half off, her legs flailing. Frankie hoisted himself over without too much trouble. Men had such an advantage in upper body strength when it came to climbing that Jake admired the courage of the women who did it. They had to depend on the strength in their legs, which didn’t always help in a tight spot. He gripped the lip of the rock and chinned himself up to a narrow gap between Siree and Gretta.

“Hi,” he said, settling his butt onto the rock, his legs dangling over the edge like the others.

“Hi yourself,” she said, so no one else heard. Her gaze rested on Lara and Frankie, their faces flushed, their breathing harsh. “You guys are doing great. Thanks for suggesting a break. I didn’t think Sig would ever let up.” Her gaze came back to Jake.
Thank you
, she mouthed. And without saying anything further he knew she’d been monitoring them the whole time, watching as he helped her friends get this far.

“They’re good sports and ballsy, but they’ve about had it.” He spoke next to her ear. She nodded acknowledgement. Then shrugged out of her daypack and reached back to get out a bottle of water and bag of trail mix. The others followed suit, creating a wobbly line along the ledge that looked like they were attempting the Wave. He pulled down the zipper on his hoodie and unzipped the legs of his coverts to turn them into shorts. When he turned back from stuffing his clothes into his pack, he caught Siree eyeing the bunched muscles on his thighs. He drank water and watched her shuffle back on the ledge to pull her pants over slender hips, and remove the hoodie covering her cropped T-shirt.

From the angle of the sun, they were well behind time. If they kept this pace, they wouldn’t be able to summit and get down before dark. She must have been thinking along the same line. Concern for her friends darkened her eyes, but didn’t sound in her voice. She leaned out to look at Lara. “It’s going to be straight up from here, kiddo.” She smiled. “
Comment ça va?
” “Like I’m ready to go straight down, and I’d rather do it under my own steam.” Lara grinned at Jake, then peered around him to question Frankie.
“Et toi?”

“I’m happy to turn around at this point and have plenty of time for a slow descent with a rest every time I can find a ledge,” he said, laughter coloring his voice. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without Jake.
Merci
,
mon ami
.” He extended a hand across Lara, Ernst and Gretta to reach Jake’s and almost tipped himself off the ledge in the attempt.

Laughing, Jake pulled him back. He liked the guy, could easily see why Siree had become friends with him. “
De rien
,” he replied. “I hope I get to climb with you and Lara again. You’re good people and good fun.” Lara beamed. Siree let out a whisper of sound that could’ve meant anything.

****

“I’m heading up.” Sig stood with a vigor that showed top cardio and a lot of experience. In his crisp Germanic English, he added, “I got to take a whiz, so give me a few minutes before you follow.”

His four friends groaned. Ernst’s face twisted in distain, and Siree laughed. “Sig, I swear you have a bladder the size of a parrot’s.” She blew him a kiss. “Why don’t you just wait till we vacate this ledge and do it in comfort?”

Sig looked hurt. “But then, my Desiree, I wouldn’t be lead climber.” He grinned, then his expression turned serious and his eyes flickered with remorse.

Jake felt Siree stiffen, her arm brushing his.
What’s going on here?

“
Du bist ein Idiot
.” Gretta stood and flicked her hands at Sig, her annoyance clear. Siree stood also, brushing her butt at Jake’s eye level, so that he lost the thread of conversation for a second. “Leave it,” she spoke softly, “no harm done.”

“That big
dummkopf
, he always forgets,” Gretta returned in a whisper so high-pitched Jake easily heard her.

He reviewed what Sig had said. He’d called Siree Desiree—pronounced Desiray in French, meaning the desirable one.
Hmm
. Once Lara had shared Siree’s education and work with him, he’d easily concluded Finchley had found the correct Siree Larain. However, he knew a protective reaction when he heard it, and all of Siree’s friends displayed one now.
Desiree Larain
. Given that new bit of info could he trust in her last name to be the correct one, or had he been skewered all the way through?

When he looked up her golden eyes met his. She knew he’d caught Sig’s slip. She shrugged on her backpack and chalked her hands without responding to his raised eyebrow.

He helped Lara follow Frankie off the slope. “Take it slow, test every hand and toe hold before you put weight on them, and pick that same path through the scree on the way down,” he advised. “You’ll be quite a climber in a few years, for a woman.” He winked just to get the scared look off her face.

“
Cochon
,” she puffed through a strand of hair falling over her laughing eyes. She started down.

Jake turned to find Gretta and Ernst stripping off their outer layers and stuffing them into daypacks that hung more heavily. They used a narrow chimney to lever themselves up the flat face. He pressed his feet and hands to either side of the long cutout, and started hitching himself up it. Tantalizing flashes of Siree’s toned thighs teased him each time he looked up to track his route. Above Siree, Ernst struggled, forcing Siree and Jake to hold position and wait for him to move on. It made it a lot more tiring than needed, and Jake could only guess at the toll it took on her lighter muscled frame. He’d speak to the issue when they got to a decent place to stop and hold a quorum. But no such advantage appeared and seventy-two minutes ticked by on Jake’s watch.
A slug could cover the distance faster than this.
His contempt for a guy who jeopardized the safety of a woman just to be with her, increased exponentially with the pace they moved. He dug deeper for patience. But damn it, at this pace, none of them would summit. Swiss born Pierre-Andre Gobet had ascended the same route and descended in just seconds over five hours, ten minutes, and here they were at the five hour mark still ascending with the summit hours away.