They struggled up the high-pitched rocky slope. Above, a ridge of fir trees beckoned. Houston's knapsack weighed against him, cutting at his shoulders. He was sweating, eyebrows scrunched together from his effort. Knees ached. Thighs objected. Underneath his knapsack, his thick shirt and sweater clung against his back, their wetness chilling him although his face felt feverish.

"Then don't look back," he answered.

Behind and below them, a maze of wooded draws and ridges fell abruptly toward the chasm of the valley. From this distance, he could not see where they'd left the van beside a hidden boarded-up chalet a hundred meters off the road. Nor could he see the disused weed-grown lane that led up to the building. He could see the main road through the mountains, though, a ribbon from this height, a random slender blackness on which isolated dots of traffic inched like insects.

"Don't look back?" she told him. "Don't look back? The shock would kill me. At the least, I'd wet my pants."

He had to laugh, although he didn't want to. If he lost his concentration, he would make mistakes, and while the slope was not a sheer drop, it was steep enough so that if he fell he'd hurt himself. Here, even minor injuries were deadly. Sprains and bruises would restrict his movements, causing other accidents until . . .

"You think that's funny?"

"No," he said. "It isn't. None of this is funny."

"Anyway, I don't mean now. If I get dizzy, there are rocks I can grab. But I mean later, with the ropes. I don't think I can do it."

He climbed toward her, staying to the right, so that if she dislodged a rock it wouldn't hit him. "You're in shape. You jog. You used to do gymnastics."

"Physically I don't have any doubts. In principle I know I can use the ropes.

But I'm not trained for them."

"I'll teach you."

"In one day?"

He didn't answer. To avoid the truth, he pa.s.sed her, climbing higher.

"Even when I'm on a plane," she said, "I can't look out the window. I get sick."

Her voice was strained. He heard her boot soles sc.r.a.pe the rocks. "Besides, the sun is almost gone."

He squinted up. The sun was red and swollen, dipping low behind the mountains.

"That can help," he said.

"I don't know how."

"Well, in the dark you won't see what's below you."

His hand gripped a rock. He braced a boot on an outcrop of stone and heaved himself to the top. Relief spread through his muscles. Sweat dripped off his face. He quickly turned. Simone climbed near him. Offering his hand, he helped her up, and they peered past a narrow Alpine meadow toward a murky wall of fir trees and the craggy cliffs that soared beyond them.

Houston took no time to savor what he saw. The sun was lower. Hurriedly he left the slope's edge to prevent his silhouette being seen from below. Almost to the fir trees, standing on the soft gra.s.s of the meadow, he slipped off his knapsack, stretched, and rubbed his aching shoulders. Then he fumbled in the knapsack and pulled out a canteen and two chocolate bars. The bars were mushy from the heat of his exertion, but he peeled the wrappers and gave one bar to Simone and chewed on the other. His energy was so depleted that he couldn't taste the sweetness, but the bar was gone before he realized how fiercely he'd attacked it. He twisted off the cap of the canteen and swallowed warm metallic water.

Not too much, though. He'd get cramps.

Simone wiped chocolate from her mouth. "And now we rest, I hope."

"No, now we make sure we're not lost."

He pulled a map and compa.s.s from the knapsack. He spread the map on the gra.s.s and angled it so that the contour lines of slopes and ridges matched the terrain around them.

"Through these trees" he pointed "we'll reach another slope. Don't look like that. We're finished climbing. We head left along the base and pa.s.s two draws along the right. We reach a third draw on the left. It takes us down. We'll come out on the cliff behind the castle."

"And how high is it?"

He checked the compa.s.s.

"Pete, the cliff. How high?"

"Don't ask."

"You really know what you're doing?"

"I told you the other day, to write a book I have to research special subjects.

If there's shooting in my novels, I have to learn about the guns. I took a weapons course. In my second book, I had a hero who was chased up through some mountains. He knew all about survival. He could climb and use ropes and well, I didn't have a clue about that stuff. I had to learn it so that I could be convincing. I can't make you any expert. But I'll keep you out of trouble."

Houston closed the map. He shoved the compa.s.s in his pocket. "Let's get moving while we've still got light. I want to teach you how to use the ropes."

Chapter 41.

He stood behind her, watching her hold the rope. "That's good. Now keep your left arm straight ahead of you. No, not so high. Like this."

He stepped close, putting his arms around her, reaching in front to guide her hand.

The movement was instinctive. He didn't plan for what happened. Grief for Jan, combined with fear, had pushed the thought of s.e.x completely from his mind. But as he held Simone, as he felt her body, he found he was suddenly kissing her.

The smooth skin on her neck. The sweet smell of her hair. With a moan, she turned and embraced him. His impulse startled him. He tried to stop, to back away. She held him more tightly, kissed him again. As her tongue probed past his lips, he felt a flame surge through his body. Nothing mattered but his need.

He sank to the ground with her. He fumbled at her shirt. He touched her rising b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He kissed them, kissed her stomach. He was lost, his pa.s.sion urgent, mindless. Everything around him disappeared the sky, the air, the trees, the ground. Everything except Simone. He entered her, crying in total surrender.

Gently, then with fury, slowly, deeply, quickly. Each instant became eternal.

Smoothly. No! Yes! His soul exploded, left his body, soaring.

She thrust upward, higher, tensing, shuddering. "Oooohhhh!"

The cool air made him conscious of the sweat on his back. He lay beside her holding her tightly, suddenly thinking of Jan.

"I'm not her rival," Simone said.

"I can't help it."

"You feel guilty? We did nothing shameful."

"Not because of this."

"Then why?"

"Because she's dead, but I'm alive. I shouldn't feel alive. It isn't right."

Simone gently touched his lips.

Chapter 42.

In the darkness, with Simone beside him in his arms, he wakened to a night bird's song. He gazed at the starry sky, the sickle moon on the horizon. Had he slept too long? How late was it? He checked his watch. The glowing dial showed him thirteen minutes after ten, and slumping back, reluctant to disturb Simone, he took advantage of these last few leisured moments. In the shelter of the boulders, near the soothing shadows of the forest, the fir trees giving off a pleasant resin scent, he felt the needle-matted earth beneath him and remembered the sweet love Simone and he had made before they slept.

He nudged her gently. Sleepily she looked at him. She smiled and put her hand against his cheek. "It's time," he said.

She nodded.

Something snapped among the trees. She sat up alarmed, her face tense toward the darkness.

"Just an animal," he said.

"How can you be sure?"

"The sounds are normal. Someone sneaking through those trees, no matter how much care he took, would break more than one branch."

It was a lie. A skillful hunter, taking time, could stalk his quarry silently in darkness. But he hoped to rea.s.sure her. More, if they had been discovered, there was nothing they could do about it. Someone with a sniperscope could see them in the dark, and they'd have no chance to defend themselves. He did have Henri's revolver and ten bullets he had taken from the body. But the gun was useless if he didn't have a target. Two quick, well-placed shots could kill them right now.

He couldn't let that worry him. There wasn't anything that he could do about it.

"We were cautious, and we did our best. That has to be enough. We have to hope."

He held her tightly. Then he told himself he had to move, to face what he intended.

They crawled from the trees toward the cliffs edge. Houston tied a nylon sling around a tree and snapped a metal clip to it. He hooked the middle of his rope to the clip and knotted the rope's free ends.

"Why do it that way?" Simone asked. "Why not simply tie the rope around the tree?"

"Because when we get down there, we can't leave the rope in sight. Oh, sure, at night it can't be seen. But what if we're still down there in the morning?

Someone's sure to see it. I'll untie the knotted ends. All I have to do is pull the one side of the rope. The other side will slip free from the clip and fall down toward me. There's no sign of us."

"If the rope was looped around a tree, though, it might snag against the bark."

He grinned, pretending bravado. "We'd never get it down. You learn d.a.m.n quickly." What he didn't say was that the friction of the rope against the tree might cause the rope to snap while they were climbing.

The clip was smoother, safer.

Houston turned to face the cliff again. His heart raced as he peered down the abyss toward bright lights in the castle. He was troubled by the sickle moon behind him, by its glow and by the twinkling of the stars. But he was confident that no one below would see them. A faint cool wind had started. It might tug at them as they went down. He'd shown Simone what she should do, but she'd been awkward, nervous. Now he worried for her, hoping that as they climbed down together he'd be able to help her. He put on his leather gloves.

Her dark eyes burned. He sensed her terror. "Just stay close to me," he said. He threw the rope out from the cliff and listened to its hiss as it fell through the dark. It flopped against the rock face. He turned quickly toward the other rope.

Her hand on his shoulder stopped him. Had she heard another sound? Had something warned her? He spun urgently, on guard and saw the sorrow in her eyes.

"Don't do. it."

"What?"

"The other rope. Don't bother with it. I can't climb down there. I'm d.a.m.n near paralyzed already. I'll stay here. I'll wait till you come back."

"Alone? But there's no food or shelter."

"Chocolate bars, two sandwiches. I'll make them last. The sky is clear. I doubt there'll be a storm."

"But you don't know for sure. If it starts snowing. Worse, if someone finds you ..."

"Pete, I won't climb down that rope! I can't! I'm scared! Why won't you listen to me?"

He felt more than heard her desperation. "Okay," he told her. "We can talk about it."

"No." Her voice was tortured.

Houston held his breath, debating with himself. "All right," he told her softly.

"Pete, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I know you'd do it if you could."

"You're not angry?"

"How can I be angry?"

Houston grinned. She sagged against him. But he felt the trembling in her shoulders and understood how close they had come to absolute disaster.

"Hey, for all we know, I'll do it easier alone," he said. "Just wait for me. If I'm not back by tomorrow night, then go down to the van."

"And then what? If you're hurt or if they've "

"Make the cops come out here. Make them search for me."

"I'm frightened that I'll lose you. Don't go down there. Come with me. We'll reach the van. We'll run and "

"No," he told her.