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Remi slowly moved off and began kneeling beside depressions in the ice. “Found some,” she called. “And here.”
Once she was done, they met back at the gondola. “How’d you do?” Sam asked, jogging in place. His pants were beginning to stiffen with ice.
Remi replied, “It’s about three-quarters full. The melted ice partially diluted it, though. We need to get you warmed up.”
Sam knelt by the pile of debris they’d collected from the Bell and began sifting through it. “I thought I saw . . . Here it is.” Sam held up a length of wire; at each end was a key ring. “Emergency chain saw,” he told Remi.
“That’s an overly optimistic name for it.”
Sam examined the gondola, walking down its length, then back again. “It’s half tipped into the crevasse, but I think I’ve found what we need.”
He knelt beside the near corner of the gondola, where a series of wicker stays had popped free. As though threading a needle, Sam slipped one end of the saw through the wicker, then out the other. He grasped both rings and began sawing. The first section took five minutes, but now Sam had an opening in which to work. He kept sawing chunks from the end of the gondola until he had a good-sized stack.
“We need flat rocks,” he told Remi.
These they found in short order; they fit the rocks together to form a hearth. On top of this went the wicker chunks, stacked in a pyramid. While Remi balled paper from the pilot’s kneeboard into kindling, Sam retrieved the lighter from the duffel. Soon they had a small fire going.
Arm in arm, they knelt before the flames. The warmth washed over them. Almost immediately they felt better, more hopeful.
“It’s the simple things in life,” Remi remarked.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Tell me your theory about the Chinese.”
“I don’t think the Z-9 showing up was a coincidence. One shadowed us the first day, then again today. Then one shows up here just minutes after we touch down.”
“We know King is smuggling artifacts over the border; it follows that he’s got a Chinese contact. Who would have that much freedom of movement, that much clout?”
“The PLA. And if Jack’s right, King probably guessed the general area in which we’ll be searching. With King’s reach, all he had to do is call his Chinese contact, then sit back and wait for us to show up.”
“The question is, what did this Z-9 have in mind? If Hosni hadn’t opened fire, what would they have done?”
“I’m only speculating, but this is the closest we’ve come to the border; it’s about two miles to the north. Maybe the opportunity was too good to pass up. They take us prisoner, slip across the border, and we’re never heard from again.”
Remi hugged Sam’s arm more tightly. “Not a happy thought.”
“Sadly, here’s another one: we need to assume they’re coming back—and sooner rather than later.”
“I saw the pistol in the duffel bag. You’re not thinking of trying to—”
“No. This time, it was mostly pure luck. Next time, we’d have no chance. When reinforcements arrive, we need to be gone.”
“How? You said yourself we can’t climb out.”
“I misspoke. We need to appear to be gone.”
Remi said, “Tell me.” Sam outlined his plan, and Remi nodded, smiling. “I like it. The Fargo version of the Trojan Horse.”
“Trojan Gondola.”
“Even better. And, with any luck, it’ll keep us from freezing to death tonight.”
Using the rope and the makeshift piton as a grappling hook, they slid the gondola a few feet from the crevasse, a task made easier by the ice. The tangled rigging Sam had spotted earlier trailed from beneath the gondola down in the crevasse. Sam and Remi looked over the edge but could see nothing beyond ten feet.
“Is that bamboo?” Remi said, pointing.
“I think so. There’s another one, that curved piece there. It would certainly make our job easier if we cut it all free, but something down there might be of use to us.”