The Export by J.K. Kelly (read along books txt) 📕

was embarrassed at how quickly you and so many others passed me by. I thought I was in better shape. The thin air kicked my ass all the way up.”

Typically it takes seven to ten days to trek by foot to Base Camp, with overnight stops planned along the way so the human body can slowly acclimate to the thinning air. Humans can adapt to just about anything, perhaps except for breathing in water, but when pushed to its limits too fast or too far, the results can be deadly.

Matt felt he owed the group leaders an explanation and an apology. “I was in Qatar doing an investigation and didn’t know if I’d ever be this close to Everest again. Once we completed work, I flew to Kathmandu while the rest of the team headed back to D.C. Thought I had it all figured out – spent a day in a hyperbolic chamber to get the blood cells fully charged, and then chartered a chopper to Namche and then trekked up. I have to apologize for my sad state this morning but if you’re okay with it,” pointing at the tent in question, “let’s see what’s up.”

“While you were getting tuned up,” Thompson stated, “we got permission from the police to let you have a look, based on your badge.” Matt smiled but his mind was already fully engaged.

Watching where he stepped as he approached the tent’s blowing flap, Matt’s suspicions were confirmed. The crime scene had already been destroyed. If only someone had thought to cordon off the area when the body was first discovered. It wasn’t like there wasn’t any rope handy – there were miles of it at the camp. The first responders and the concerned, and then the gawkers, had all compromised the area. Fingerprints, footprints, DNA, valuables, clues of any sort, were probably already lost in the panic and the elements.

As he pulled back the flap, he whispered, “Well, that’s a new one.” There was a man, on his knees – sort of. He’d fallen straight back over them. The pointed side of a climber’s ice ax was embedded firmly in the dead man’s head. Matt looked at the tent’s floor and then stepped in. He looked closely at the body and saw no other signs of trauma. The victim’s eyes were nearly frozen wide open, the horror locked into his expression. From the angle the weapon had entered the forehead he knew the killer’s hand had never contacted the body, at least not as part of this effort. Taking a knee, Matt held his teacup under the ax handle and watched as the steam wet the red aluminum. No fingerprints. Matt scanned the area immediately around the body and then expanded his scrutiny wider and wider. The contents were much like those of his own tent and the dozens strewn about Base Camp. Cold weather clothing, energy bars, water, sports drinks, empty beer bottles, small space heater, toilet paper, toiletries, a half-full bottle of Jägermeister, and a stack of red party cups were arranged along the left wall of the tent.

“I’ve seen a lot in my time, but an ice ax to the noggin is a new one for me too,” the leader said with a nervous laugh as he watched Matt work. A few of the onlookers attempted to peer in. Others just stood in silence.

“Let me borrow that SAT phone,” Matt said as he extended his hand for it. “They’ll need to stop everyone trekking down from Base Camp,” he whispered.

On a typical morning during climbing season on Everest, a constant flow of trekkers, support personnel, media, and tourists came and went at Camp from the south. For every one of those who completed their work or were leaving, either victorious in their climbs or defeated in their quests, there were just as many new arrivals to the most famous campsite on the planet. Only emergency evacuations during climbing season or the deep pockets of the very wealthy could generate the use of a high-altitude helicopter. Everyone else trekked up or down with only the gear-laden oxen or the local Nepalese sherpas, showing little or no sign of the wear and tear Everest had on the mind and body.

Over the phone, Matt introduced himself to the lead detective in charge, Lieutenant Amir Baral of the CIB, Crime Investigation Unit, and described the crime scene to him in detail, expressing his frustration that the area hadn’t been better contained. Over the next few hours, Matt methodically went through his mental checklist and elicited the help of Thompson’s team.

First, better late than never, he directed the area around the victim’s tent be roped off and that a guard be posted to keep people outside the perimeter and away from the victim and any evidence or clues that might still be present.

Next, Matt interviewed the sherpa who had discovered the body, the man who shared a tent with the deceased, and finally any of the climbers or trekkers who had been in the tents adjacent to the victim’s. Before he went into action mode though, it was time for more oxygen and some food. The medics had wanted Matt to lie down and regain his strength gradually, suggesting he take on a bag of IV fluids, but he’d insisted on moving forward. By the time Baral and his team arrived, Matt was ready for them.

He made quick introductions and then led the homicide detective to the roped-off area. Baral looked in his late 50s, perhaps 5-foot-6 in height, a sleek 150 pounds, and walked as if he’d spent more time behind a desk than in the outdoors. Matt was surprised to see the investigator show up in a gray suit, blue tie, long black coat, and matching wool cap but smiled when he saw the man had the sense to change into hiking shoes for this adventure. The ice ax was left in place until the body could be flown back to Kathmandu, where forensic