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Remi spun around, firing at the same time as Sam, their shots echoing around the mountains like machine guns. The sentry twisted, then stumbled, his weapon falling from his lifeless fingers.
Sam and Remi heard gunshots from the camp below.
“Nando?”
“I’m checking now,” Sam said, looking out toward the base camp. He took his binoculars, scanned the camp, unable to find who was shooting. He focused on the front of their dining tent. One of the door flaps was strapped open, and he watched a few moments, seeing Nando walk past the doorway. “He’s there. Looks fine. I don’t see anyone else in the tent or around it.”
“You know Leopold and Rolfe must have heard those shots.”
“You’re right. Can you get that guy’s gun and see if he has any extra magazines? I think we may be in for more trouble.”
Sam swept his gaze from their tent, past the group of tents down the hill. Not a lot moving. Most of the occupants were probably taking advantage of the clear weather, out climbing the summit. “If they’re down there, I don’t see them. Let’s get Nando out of here.”
Just to be safe, they decided their best bet was to approach their campsite from the rear. They picked their way through the snow, grateful that it was wasn’t deep. Sam leaned toward the tent, trying to hear inside, but a gust of wind ruffled the nylon canvas, muffling all sound. When the wind died down, he heard Nando singing along with a song on the portable radio.
That, Sam decided, was a good sign, and they continued around the corner into the tent. Nando, his back to them, was swaying to the beat of the pop music as he stirred something simmering in the large pot on the cook stove, the scent of savory spices filling the air.
“We’re back,” Sam said.
Nando, spoon in hand, turned, a smile lighting his face, until he looked past them out the door. “Where’s Dietrich?”
“Waiting at the helicopter. Which is where we need to go. Right now.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“We’re a little worried about how friendly our friends are.”
“The ones Tatiana called about?”
“You spoke to her?”
“Yes. She said she couldn’t talk but told me to tell you your mutual friends were on the way. They were following.”
“Definitely time to go,” Sam said, taking a few steps in. “When did you talk to her?”
“Not since . . .” Nando stared at Remi, slowly raising his hands.
Sam looked that direction and saw Rolfe and Leopold in the doorway, both holding guns.
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Rolfe motioned with his gun for Remi to move toward Sam and Nando. “Search them,” Rolfe said.
Leopold holstered his gun, then checked each of them for weapons, taking a gun from Sam’s holster and the second gun Sam had picked up from the dead sentry. He did the same with Remi. “Clean,” he said, moving off to the side, tucking the weapons into the pockets of his parka.
“Staying for dinner?” Sam asked Rolfe.
“We would,” he replied, his glance sliding toward Nando, then back to Sam, “but we have a few loose ends to tie up. Like eliminating any obstacles that stand between me and my treasure.”
“If you think you’re going to find it without us, you’re mistaken.”
Leopold took a step toward them, his hand on his holstered gun. “Is there some reason we don’t just get it over with?”
“Patience,” Rolfe said, his gaze locked on Sam’s. “You were saying? About the treasure?”
“Right,” Sam said. “The treasure. Where was I . . . ? Oh, yes. We have it. You don’t. And if anything happens to us, you’ll never find it.”
“He’s lying,” Leopold said.
