“No, that I know the random guy you’re talking about.”
“It happens a lot?”
“More than it should in a country this size.”
They fell silent, he in awe, as the landscape got wilder. Barely tamed farmland gave way to rainforest, and trees in turn succumbed to a desert of jagged rocks and brown tussock. Along the edge of the range, fresh landslides left plummeting scars of scoria. A country on the move, tossing and turning and refusing to settle into sleep.
Man, he felt alive. Anticipation churned in his stomach and his skin buzzed. Not a wired adrenaline, like the start of an operation, but a lightness, a freedom. Escape in T-minus ten.
“You have travel insurance, a will?” Tia asked.
Aaaand bubble burst.
CODY SHIFTED IN his seat. “Yeah, I got a will.” His father’s lawyers had insisted on a succession plan for the business, though if they were smart they’d skip him. “But you think any insurer’s gonna give a reasonable quote for this?” He could fund an evacuation anyway. Or the repatriation of his remains. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you’re well paid for the search and rescue.”
They cleared the seam of the range and turned south. The view switched to black and white, a rocky alpine plateau with fog filling the basins and dips. Farther into the mountains the ground snow thickened from tattered lace to a sheet to a blanket. In a valley between two craggy peaks spread a blue-tinted tongue of ice. The glacier. No sign of climbers.
He zipped his jacket higher. It was high-tech but lightweight, like most of the clothes he carried. Tia turned west and the sunlight bounced off the glacier, into his eyes. He shut them until the burn passed. Shame he wasn’t getting on the water until 0600. He needed to blast off the nerves in his belly. He felt a nudge on his thigh. Tia pointed down. Carving around massive boulders was a river of milky turquoise, so vivid it seemed to glow.
“Estupendo,” he whispered.
“Indeed. The Awatapu.”
“Hell. I thought the photos on the web were doctored.”
“Nope. Cool, eh?”
Tia followed the river’s winding path. Final approach to Nowhere. As the altitude dropped, rock and snow yielded to tussock and thick khaki scrub. The river narrowed into boulder-strewn white-water corridors, flared into blue pools lipped with beaches of ashen stones, narrowed, flared, narrowed, flared, growing faster and wilder as more streams washed in. Man, he wanted a piece of that.
Tia navigated down into a clearing beside a red-roofed hut along the river, blond tussock flattening under them. If he’d closed his eyes he wouldn’t have sensed the moment of contact. She radioed in as she shut down. He pulled off his headset. As the blades whined to a halt and the engine’s white noise ceased, silence washed in. She stared at the hut. Well, hut was ambitious. More of a shed with a couple small windows and a chimney. Under a corrugated tin awning, a gray dish towel slumped from a rope. Could’ve been there months. Tia screwed up her face as she removed her headset. No sign of any missing tourists.
He spent the next ten minutes trying to equalize his ears as he helped Tia stash the kayaks under the awning. He could be imagining the rush of water over stones, but the bell-like bird chatter was real. The biting stench of avgas lifted, leaving the scent of clean air and distant snow. No better perfume.
She nodded at a craggy white peak in the distance. A bird of prey was riding a thermal. “A cold front is blowing up from Antarctica. You should be out before it hits, but if the weather turns, ride it out in the hut or your tent and I’ll check on you when it clears.”
“Sure thing.” Like hell.
“Because that river’s going to get high and fast superquick.”
Even better. “Noted. Thanks.”
She sighed, like she knew he was a lost cause. “Camp well above the water level—it can change quickly this time of year. Your best launchpad is down that track.”
The “track” she pointed to was a slight gap between the prickly shrubs circling the clearing. “The river meanders for about a kilometer. Then you get your first challenge with a nasty, narrow little rapid. After that a big tributary joins and it really gets wild and pretty much stays that way. But the worst part, the part that makes it grade six, is the Auripo Falls, which you’ll reach about midday tomorrow. Eighteen-meter drop—that’s sixty feet to you—underwater whirlpool that’ll hold you forever—”
“Yeah, I’ve read up on it, asked around. You’ve kayaked this river?”
“God, no. Just rescued enough people to know where they get unstuck. Or rather, stuck. I know it mostly by air—and my brother runs canyoning trips in the lower reaches in summer.”
“Jumping off waterfalls? And you call me a risk taker?”
Almost a smile. “He’s very safety-conscious.”
“Like you.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“So your brother jumps off waterfalls—and throws other people off them—and you call him safety-conscious. And I put only my own life on the line, and I’m a risk taker.”
“He knows what he’s doing. But yeah, once was enough for me. I’m happy just being his taxi driver.”
“You canyoned? I thought you were scared of heights.”
“Not heights, just falling, as every human should be. And it confirmed I was right to be afraid.”
“So you just drop his victims to their fates instead?”
“I figure if you’re determined to kill yourself, you’ll find a way. It might as well benefit me.” Her tone dropped just on the side of teasing. She wiped her hands on her thighs, like she was absolving herself of responsibility. “Right. That’s me out.”
“Last chance to talk me ’round.”
She raised her chin. “You want me to talk you around?”
“No.”
“Good. I could use another search and rescue contract to pay off the last one. Just make sure you die in a place I can easily spot from the air. And keep an eye out for those tourists. I don’t like the idea of them lying...” She rubbed her eyes, as if trying to erase a mental image.
“I’ll do that.”
“Get off the river well before dark each day. When the light drops you can’t see the snags.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That was a bit ‘no shit, Sherlock,’ wasn’t it?”
Man, she was so close to a real smile. If he just worked a little harder... “It’s nice that you care.”
“You have someone waiting for word of when you reach Wairoimata? Who can raise the alarm when you don’t show?”
“No, ma’am.”
Was she asking if he was single?
In your dreams, numbskull. Not that he was looking to hook up, but she’d be a fun vacation distraction.
“Got a mobile?” she said.
“Yep.”
“It won’t work until Wairoimata. You have my number—call me when you get out. If I don’t hear by Wednesday, I’ll start asking around.”
“Will do.”
“Got a distress beacon?”