Iced!: The 2007 Journal of Nick Fitzmorgan (10 page)

I walked over to a Sherpa who was carrying a basket of potatoes across the small square. Using the vocabulary list in my guidebook,
I asked him, “Can you point me in the direction of the yak farm, please?” in Nepali.

I heard someone laugh behind me.

When I turned, I discovered a short blonde woman wearing a pith helmet and a khaki jacket with lots of pockets. She looked
as if she was going on safari. She was beaming at me. “Do you know that you are asking for a yak farm?” the woman said. She
had an English accent.

THE ENGLISHWOMAN

“Yes,” I said, a little put off by the fact that she was laughing at me. “I know it sounds strange, but I need to find a particular
yak farm.”

“How mysterious,” the woman said. “I’m leading a tour of young people from London. But apparently, they’ve decided to sleep
in. While I wait, it would be my pleasure to help you. Follow me”

The woman and I walked over to a nearby booth that was selling richly colored jackets. The woman spoke in rapid Nepali, and
the trader responded. They were speaking too quickly for me to look up any words in my phrasebook.

The woman translated for me. “The mice man says that there are two yak farms close by. Here, let me show you on your map.”

THE TRADER

I pulled out my map. And as I did, the hair sample and bit of cloth from my porch in Los Angeles fell to the ground. The trader
picked it up and, before I could take it back, he was examining the cloth through the clear plastic bag. He turned to the
Englishwoman and said something in Nepali.

The woman clapped her hands and smiled and nodded at the trader.

“What did he say?” I asked anxiously, taking back the cloth and hair sample.

“He says this cloth was made on a farm in Konar. I can show you where that is on your map.” She pointed to a settlement a
few miles away. “The hike will take about three or four hours.”

I fumbled for the map as she handed it back to me. The Englishwoman asked me if I was sure I was okay. “You look a bit wonky,
if you don’t mind me saying.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I told her. “Thank you for all your help.” I looked down at my guidebook, thanked the trader
in Nepali, and started off.

I made my way past Tengboche, home of a famous monastery. I was now 13,000 feet above sea level. The view of Mount Everest
was even more spectacular from here. It towered over its mountain neighbors, Nuptse and Lohtse.

In just under three hours, I reached the yak farm the woman had pointed out to me on the map. It sat on the side of a gently
sloping hill. A simple wire fence surrounded the property, where several dozen yaks grazed peacefully in the sun, their tails
twitching lazily at flies every now and then.

About a hundred feet away sat a two-story stone house. A man had just walked out the front door and held his hand up against
the sunlight. He was looking away from me.

THE MYSTERIOUS MAN FROM LOS ANGELES WAS HERE!

I quickly closed the distance between us before he could turn around.

“Hello?” I said when I was within a few feet of him.

He jumped slightly and whirled around. When he did, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I had found him!

Here was the man who had tossed the skull at me in Los Angeles. He was wearing the same coat—I could see where he had torn
it on the splinter—and he had the same birthmark under his right eye.

“You!” I shouted. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do now that I had found him. My head was spinning, and everything
seemed to be moving too fast.

The man eyed me suspiciously. He said something in Nepali. I consulted my guidebook and translated his words into, “Who are
you?”

“You know me!” I told him fiercely. “You came to my house in America!”

He shook his head and said something else in Nepali.

It’s one thing to detect that someone is lying when they are speaking English. But I wasn’t sure if my liar radar would work
properly when I couldn’t understand what the person was saying! Especially since my head hurt so bad I thought it might explode.

I did know one thing. I wasn’t leaving here until I got some answers.

“Where is my father?” I demanded. “What have you done with him?”

The man looked around and said something else. This time, his meaning was clear. He was inviting me inside.

“No way,” I said.

The man help up a finger as if to say, “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared inside.

I snuck over to the door, but I couldn’t hear sounds from inside. I went around to the side of the house and peered through
a window. I was looking into the living room. It was neat and tidy with shiny wooden furniture. A table, a chair, and—

Maura.

She was in the living room, talking with the Sherpa.

I must have made a noise without realizing it, because suddenly, Maura looked over at the window. When she saw me peering
through the glass, her face relaxed in genuine relief. She even smiled. Something I didn’t think Maura would be able to fake.

She rushed out of the house and came around the corner before I could even think about running. She grabbed me by the shoulders.
“Where did you go? Why did you run off on your own like that?”

MAURA WAS IN THE SHERPA’S HOUSE!

Even more freckles had popped up around her face, and they made her look even prettier. She seemed to have let down her guard,
and I could see the real person beneath her icy exterior.

But this wasn’t the right time for making new friends. The Sherpa had also left the house and stood next to us.

I took a step back and glared at them. “You two know each other? What have you done with my father?”

I moved toward the Sherpa. My body was stiffening and I felt my hands turning into fists. Maura stepped between us and pushed
me back. I stumbled a few steps but managed to keep my balance.

“Stop it,” Maura said and came toward me. “This man is one of your father’s best friends.”

“That’s a lie!” I shot back.

Before I could wriggle away, Maura placed her hands on my shoulders and put her face close to mine. She spoke very slowly.
“Nick, you’re suffering from hypoxia. You’ve got altitude sickness. You’re not thinking straight.”

“That’s crazy!” I cried.

“Is it?” Maura asked. “Think about the way you’ve been acting. You’ve got a huge headache, I bet, and feel really strange.
And would anyone in his right mind do what you did last night? Sneak out of the inn in the pitch-dark? You could have fallen
off a cliff! Not to mention you almost gave me a heart attack when I woke up this morning to find your room empty and your
bed still made.”

“You’ve been lying to me!” I shouted. “You’re trying to stop me from finding my dad.”

Maura shook her head. “That’s not true. And deep inside you know it. If I wanted to stop you, why would I have flown you all
the way to Nepal? I would have simply locked you up in Los Angeles. Or poisoned your food or done one of a million other things.
What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. You’re a good detective. Think about it.”

Part of me wanted to push her hands off and fight back. But what she was saving was starting to get through.

I took a long breath. “How did you get here?” I asked, trying desperately to clear my head.

“When I asked the airport official if anyone had arrived in the last day or so, he told me that only one private plane had
landed and it had been carrying a Sherpa. His description matched the Sherpa you described in Los Angeles. I dropped Judge
Pinkerton’s name, and the official gave me a name in return. All I had to do was call information and come here.”

It made sense. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” I demanded. “Why did you lie to me about what the airport official said to you?”

“Because of something else he said,” Maura explained. “I thought it was better not to tell you anything.”

“What did he say?”

Maura took a breath. “He told me that someone had died climbing Mount Everest right before we got here.”

“My dad!”

“No, it wasn’t your dad,” she said quickly, trying to keep me from panicking. “It wasn’t him. It was a man from Japan. But
I warded to make sure before I mentioned any of this to you and got you worried.” She shook her head. “Listen, I’m sorry I
didn’t tell you. I should have. Maybe I was a little sick with hypoxia, too. But you have to believe me. This man didn’t hurt
your dad. He wants to help him.”

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. “Wow …” was all I could say.

“Hey.” Maura gave me a smile. “It’s okay. It happens to the best of us. I was feeling really out of it myself last night.
Most people take at least a few days to go as high as we did. We went way too fast.”

She paused to let me catch my breath. Then she said, “Just talk to this man. Hear what he has to say.”

I glanced over at the Sherpa who stood a few feet away. He was watching us with a small smile on his face. He certainly didn’t
look like a criminal mastermind.