"James Rollins - Black Order" - читать интересную книгу автора (Romeyn Henry)

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Josh warned. "The hotel is a full day's trek away, and the rooms
at the hotel have oxygen pumped into them, to stave off altitude sickness. It could weaken your current
acclimation and delay any ascent."
"Like we're not delayed enough already!" Boston Bob pressed.
Josh ignored him. Lisa knew her younger brother would not be pressured to do something as stupid as
risk an ascent against inclement weather. Though the skies were blue, she knew that could change in a
matter of minutes. She had grown up on the sea, off the Catalina coast. As had Josh. One learned to
read signs beyond the lack of clouds. Josh might not have developed a Sherpa's eye to read the weather
up at these heights, but he certainly knew to respect those who did.
Lisa stared up at the plume of snow blowing off the tip of Everest's peak. It marked the jet stream,
known to gust over two hundred miles an hour across the summit. The plume stretched impossibly long.
Though the storm had blown itself out, the pressure pattern still wreaked havoc above eight thousand
meters. The jet stream could blow a storm back over them at any moment.
"We could at least make for Camp One," Boston Bob persisted. "Bivouac there and see what the
weather brings."An irritating whine had entered the sports-store manager's voice, trying to wheedle some
concession. His face had reddened with frustration.
Lisa could not fathom her prior attraction to the man.
Before her brother could respond to the lout, a new noise intruded. A thump-thump like drums. All eyes
swung to the east. Out of the glare of the rising sun, a black helicopter appeared. A hornet-shaped B-2
Squirrel A-Star Ecuriel. The rescue chopper had been designed to climb to these heights.
A silence settled over the group.
A week ago, just before the recent storm broke, an expedition had gone up on the Nepal side. Radio
communication had put them up at Camp Two. Over twenty-one thousand feet in elevation.
Lisa shaded her eyes. Had something gone wrong?
She had visited the Himalayan Rescue Association's health clinic down in Pheriche. It was the point of
triage for all manner of illnesses that rolled down the mountainside to their doorstep: broken bones,
pulmonary and cerebral edema, frostbite, heart conditions, dysentery, snow blindness, and all sorts of
infections, including STDs. It seemed even chlamydia and gonorrhea were determined to summit Everest.
But what had gone wrong now? There had been no Mayday on the radio's emergency band. A
helicopter could only reach a little above Base Camp due to the thin air up here. That meant rescues from
air often required trekking down from the most severe heights. Above twenty-five thousand feet, the
dead were simply left where they fell, turning the upper slopes of Everest into an icy graveyard of
abandoned gear, empty oxygen containers, and frost-mummified corpses.
The beat of the rotors changed pitch.
"They're coming this way," Josh said and waved everyone back to the nests of four-season storm tents,
clearing the flat expanse that served as the camp's helipad.
The black helicopter dropped over them. Rotor wash swirled sand and bits of rock. A Snickers wrapper
blew past Lisa's nose. Prayer flags danced and twisted, and yaks scattered. After so many days of quiet
in the mountains, the noise was deafening.
The B-2 settled to its skids with a grace that belied its size. Doors swung open. Two men stepped out.
One wore a green camouflage uniform and shouldered an automatic weapon, a soldier of the Royal
Nepalese Army. The other stood taller, in a red robe and cloak sashed at the waist, head shaved bald. A
Buddhist monk.
The pair approached and spoke rapidly in a Nepalese dialect to a pair of Sherpas. There was a short
bout of gesturing, then an arm pointed.
At Lisa.
The monk led the way to her, flanked by the soldier. From the suncrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the
monk appeared to be in his midforties, skin the color of latte, eyes caramel brown.
The soldier's skin was darker, his eyes pinched closer together. His gaze was fixed below her neckline.
She had left her jacket unzipped, and the sports bra she was wearing beneath her fleece vest seemed to