Acknowledging James (Hilton)
When the four of them, Conway, Mallinson, Barnard and Ms. Brinklow, confirmed their identities, he knew his instincts had been correct. He would have to go over K-2 and time would not be on his side. When you take a G-7, even if you’re a corporate pilot and spin a story about a test flight, you’ve only got a small space to test your theory.
So up he went and when he got over the top, the air thin and cold over the Himalayas, he wanted more than ever to leave the world of lies and deception, drones and 24/7 surveillance.
Where are the llamas, where is the monastery, he queried Conway.
“That my dear fellow, “the Englishman responded, “was cover, pure poppycock.”
“Pure poppycock? But your appearance? You don’t show your years. None of you look a day over thirty. How can this be poppycock? Isn’t this Shangri-la?”
Ms. Brinklow strode forward. She lifted her hands to the sky and brought them together and then downward, her fingers touching the top of her head, sliding down her forehead to a space between and above her eyes and then opening up at her throat like a flower, crossing them at her heart and descending past her pelvis into her lower half and then upwards again to the sky.
As he watched, she chanted. At first he couldn’t make out the words but they seemed to match her movements. When her hands returned upwards a third time, he heard the first part of the chant clearly.
“Ohm Wah Thee-ah Ay-ah Pa-eh,” she intoned. As she continued, the sky seemed to open and a bright, milky light flowed out of the top of her head and ran down the sides of her body like silky lava.
~ Stephen J. Bergstrom