“I agree,” said Raeburn. “Exactly the sort of chap we’re looking for. Wouldn’t you agree, General?”

“I certainly liked the cut of his jib,” said Bruce. “But I think we need to see the other chap before we come to a decision.”

Geoffrey Young smiled for the first time.

“The other fellow doesn’t look in the same class on paper,” said Ashcroft.

“You won’t find many mountains on paper Commander,” said Young, trying not to sound exasperated.

“That may well be the case,” said Hinks, “but I feel I should point out to the committee that Mr. Finch is an Australian.”

“I was given to understand,” said Raeburn, “that we were only considering chaps from the British Isles.”

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Chairman,” said Young, “that Australia is still part of His Majesty’s far-flung Empire.”

“Quite so,” said Sir Francis. “Perhaps we should see the fellow before we jump to conclusions.”

Hinks made no effort to rise from his seat. He simply folded his arms and nodded at the porter, who bowed deferentially, opened the door, and announced, “Mr. Finch.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

“MR. FINCH,” THE porter repeated, a little more firmly.

“Got to leave you, old chap,” said Finch, and added with a grin, “which is exactly what I’ll be saying when we’re a couple of hundred feet from the summit.”

Finch strolled into the committee room and sat down in the chair at the end of the table before Sir Francis had an opportunity to welcome him. Young could only smile when he saw how Finch had dressed for the interview. It was almost as if he’d set out to provoke the committee: a casual corduroy jacket, a pair of baggy cream flannels, an open-necked shirt, and no tie.

When Young had briefed Mallory and Finch, it hadn’t crossed his mind to mention a dress code. But to this committee the candidates’ appearance would be every bit as important as their climbing record. They were now all staring at Finch in disbelief. Ashcroft even had his mouth open. Young leaned back and waited for the fireworks to be ignited.

“Well, Mr. Finch,” said Sir Francis once he’d recovered, “let me welcome you on behalf of the committee, and ask if you are prepared to answer a few questions.”

“Of course I am,” said Finch. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Capital,” said Sir Francis. “Then I’ll get the ball rolling by asking if you’re in any doubt that this great enterprise can be achieved. By that I mean, do you believe you are capable of leading a team to the summit of Everest?”

“Yes, I can do that,” said Finch. “But nobody has any idea how the human body will react to such altitude. One scientist has even suggested we might explode, and although I think that’s a fatuous notion, it does indicate that we haven’t a clue what we’ll be up against.”

“I’m not sure I follow you, old chap,” said Raeburn.

“Then allow me to elucidate, Mr. Raeburn.” The elderly gentleman looked surprised that Finch knew his name. “What we do know is that the higher you climb, the thinner the air becomes, meaning that every movement a mountaineer makes at altitude will be more difficult than the last. That may result in some falling by the wayside.”

“Yourself included, perhaps?” said Hinks, not looking directly at him.

“Yes indeed, Mr. Hinks,” Finch said, looking back at the secretary.

“But despite all that,” said Raeburn, “you would still be willing to give it a go.”

“Yes, I would,” Finch replied firmly. “But I should warn the committee that the success or failure of this project may depend on the use of oxygen during the last 2,000 feet.”

“I’m not altogether sure I follow your drift,” said Sir Francis.

“I reckon that above 24,000 feet,” replied Finch, “we will find it almost impossible to breathe. I’ve carried out some experiments at 15,000 feet which showed that with the assistance of bottled oxygen, it’s possible to continue climbing at almost the same rate as at a much lower altitude.”

“But wouldn’t that be cheating, old chap?” asked Ashcroft. “It’s always been our aim to test man’s ability against the elements without resorting to mechanical aids.”

“The last time I heard a similar opinion expressed publicly was at a lecture given by the late Captain Scott in this very building. I’m sure, gentlemen, that you don’t need reminding how that sad adventure ended.”

Everyone on the committee was now staring at Finch as if he was the subject of a Bateman cartoon, but he continued unabashed.

Tags: Jeffrey Archer Fiction
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