Most of die pilgrims started their ascent at the Fifth Station, about seventy-five hundred feet up, from where it took six or eight hours to make it to the top. The official climbing season ran from July to the end of August. CUmbers on the north side used the Yoshidaguchi trail, which ran from Fujiyoshida City to the summit. The Fuji Subaru Line toll road met the trail at the Fifth Station, halfway up the mountain.
It was crowded-Fuji-yama was always crowded, sometimes hundreds of people walking in a long serpentine line, only a few inches apart, laughing, talking, enjoying themselves. It wasn’t Mount Everest. More than a hundred thousand people a year climbed the sacred mountain. Now and again, one would die making the ascent, usually from a heart attack, but sometimes from heat exhaustion or dehydration. It was cool, maybe ten degrees above freezing at the top today, but a steady climb produced a lot of heat, and the heavy jackets tended to come off pretty quick.
The old saying in Japan was you were a fool not to climb the mountain once, and a bigger fool if you climbed it twice.
Jay watched the pilgrims slog past, many with walking sticks-canes, staves-backpacks holding small children,
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a seeing-eye dog leading a blind man. Old, young, by, tourists, seekers, dressed in every color of the and a lot of hues not found anywhere in nature, s not a totally safe climb, however, even for those shape. Falling rocks injured or killed people, if Those who wandered off the trail had sometimes . And now and again, a tourist would be hit by light- sometimes out of the blue. Jay carried a small tran- radio Velcroed to his backpack, tuned to a time sig i somewhere. Supposedly, if the radio started blasting a lot of static, it was a good idea to hit the ground lie flat.
feather was not particularly stable from the base to f top, and what started out sunny could be foggy, rainy, awy in a matter of a few minutes. The place made weather.
Climbing Safety Guidance Center was located at |Sixth Station, First Aid Station at the Seventh. Climb- f during the off-season was not encouraged. Those who the need were required to clear their climbing gear the Fujiyoshida Police Station. Failure to do so as a . would get you kicked out of the country if caught, iy fined if you were a local.
: was a good idea to bring proper clothing, water, food, toilet paper.
|; Assuming you made it to the top, you could visit the e, mail a postcard at the post office, and explore the ic crater. You could also buy souvenirs, very ex- sive, and the big show was to watch the sunrise above sea of clouds that often shrouded the earth below, fay had made the climb five times. In VR, that is. He to try it in RW some day. Since meeting Saji, he no longer worried that the real thing might not live i to the artificial experience.
aji. Ah, there was something to think about when he to the top. As he had been thinking about her most I the way up so far. |An old man, white-haired, seventy, darkly tanned, came
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and sat on the bench next to him. He looked as if he might be Thai. He wore gray wool slacks over waffle-soled hiking boots, a white shirt under a blue Gore-Tex wind- breaker, white cotton gloves, and dark sunglasses. He smiled at Jay.
“Nice day for a climb, isn’t it?”
Jay nodded. This wasn’t a private scenario, but a public one run by Tokyo University. Some, maybe all, of the climbers could be personas of real people. Many of the visuals were lifted right from the net-cams that watched the mountain year-round. “Yes, it is,” he said.
They sat there, not speaking for a few moments, then the old man got up. “Well, that’s enough rest for the wicked. See you around, Jay.”
Jay nodded and smiled, and it was a full two seconds before he realized that the man had called him’by name.
“Hey! Hold it!”
But the old man developed a speed and broken-field running ability that would have shamed a star football quarterback on a ninety-yard touchdown run. And he laughed loud and almost maniacally as he did so.
Somebody is seriously playing with me, Jay thought.
And it seemed to Jay in that moment that it must be somebody who knew him.
But-who?
On the Bon Chance
Jackson and his crew were well away from the ship when Roberto returned from his mission. Jackson had called, was already working using his flatscreen and modem from the helicopter, and obviously feeling much better.
Chance had read about the senator’s accident on the NetNewsNow headline page within an hour of the event. DeWitt would live, but doctors were not sure that he would walk again.
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bad. But you had to factor that in-you couldn’t ; an omelet without breaking a few eggs. cWitt was a fly removed from the ointment. v, as she waited for Roberta to arrive at her office- n’t want to invite him to her cabin and have him considered yet again how she was going to ‘this.
i wasn’t the brightest bulb on the string, but nei; he stupid. He was cunning, in a sly way, but his f the world was limited, much more personal than She was smarter than he was, she knew it, and ion was one of her strengths. She could bend her direction. She had the skills, smiled when he sauntered into the small office she “Missy. It is done.” heard. As ever, you are a man to be relied upon.
you.” ; shrugged.
she said. “I have sent Jackson away.” eyebrows went up.
was a mistake. You know how I am. I am weak : sex, I crave it. I am sorry. But it was wrong, I admit So Jackson is gone; he’ll be working on the train now on-you never have to see him again if you want. I’ll make it up to you.” ow?”
^”Anything you want.” smiled.
could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. F course Missy realized her mistake, how could she not? was much man, while Jackson was a boy, one who lied computers and did nothing for real. Only a fool aid prefer him over Roberta, and Missy, slut that she , was no fool. This was only right. |*I will think about it,” he said.
held her smile in check. She had him. H*Thank you, Roberto.” Don’t lay it on too thick, she herself, just enough so he sees you as contrite, and
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willing to kneel for his forgiveness. Let him think about what he is missing-what he could be missing in addition to that.
He would come around.
She watched him stroll out, walking with that cocksure swagger that men of physical prowess displayed, like big cats who could spring at any second, relaxed, but ready, a coiled spring waiting for instant release.
And he really was much better in bed than Jackson.
23
> Air over the North Atlantic
felt better. He knew intellectually this wasn’t al realistic, his relief-Santos was as portable as he and if he really wanted to come and get him, he id; still, having a thousand miles of space between elf and the killer was better than not. Besides, he ‘t think Santos would do that, come after him. Jas- should be able to protect him, and certainly she distract the man if she put her mind to it. She was talented when it came to distracting men, Keller for sure. He’d never been with anybody like her, even close. She knew things he had never heard of, 1 imagined. The tricks she could do… at was the problem. He should have never let himself into that situation in the first place, but, ah, she was How could a normal man refuse? She could a cold sweat on a brass monkey, raise some other of his anatomy, too.
as soon as he’d climbed onto the copter, Keller i felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him. He
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was able to get on-line and screw with Jay Gridley some more without looking over his shoulder. To have fun with it.
He leaned back in the first-class seat of the 747 heading for Germany and stared through the window. Dueling with a man like Gridley, that was a civilized way of doing things. You used your skill, your wit, your intelligence. Your opponent appreciated these things, respected them, even if he opposed you. There were rules, many of them unstated but understood nonetheless, and adhered to, proper ways to engage and contend. Civilized men knew these things-they knew how the game was played.
A man like Santos? He appreciated nothing but brute force. Violence. It didn’t matter to him that you were smarter, that you had talent and skill. No, all that mattered to him was the fist in the face, the foot to the crotch. He was a savage, no matter how you cleaned him up and dressed him, a jungle creature with a sharp stick. If you explained this to him, he would laugh. If you protested his lowbrow, knuckle-dragging demeanor, he would kick sand hi your face. He would rather hurt people than not.