Page 71 of Mountain Security

“We dug up his school records, and he has his Gold Star,” Beau said.

Alex nodded. That meant he was an excellent skier.

“Does he have his cell phone with him?” Alex asked quietly. It wouldn’t be easy up here, but perhaps they could triangulate the signal and come up with—

Beau’s teeth made a noise as they mashed together.

“The boy’s phone ran out of battery before lunch. The father decided it was okay to keep going without it.”

Idiot.

It never ceased to amaze Alex how stupid people could be.

“I don’t need to remind you, the boy could be in imminent danger,” Beau said. “We need to find him now. Split into your assigned groups, and let’s regroup here in an hour.”

When Rémy and his team had left, Beau looked at the table in front of him and shook his head.

“Fuck. We need more people up here. Damien’s team has been mobilized as well. They’ll join us as soon as Kat can fly them here.” Beau looked up at the sky, then at Tristan, who shook his head twice. It seemed that the flight that had brought Alex up here had been the last one for a while. “Until then, we’re on our own.”

Beau went first, followed by Ry, then finally Alex, closing their line. Though weighed down by large rescue packs, they moved quickly across the steep slope, heading towards the pistes.

As they moved, Beau spoke on his ear piece, giving Tristan regular updates as to their progress. This was important, because when the other PGHM team joined, or if Tristan was able to get the bird up in the air, he should know exactly where everyone was and where to begin the search.

In a rescue like this one, nothing could be left to interpretation.

Half an hour later, they could at least confirm there was no sign of an avalanche. That was one very good piece of news.

But there were still other concerns. Alex stopped when he saw the tracks left by the snow-cat that had cleared the top of the double-diamond trail.

“These tracks look fresh,” Alex said, as they skied right over them.

“We need to speak to whoever cleared this piste last night, in case they saw anything,” Beau barked. Somebody—it sounded like Gael, from Damien’s team—immediately replied that they were on it. Alex felt the deep sense of camaraderie. Even though they couldn’t be physically here with them yet, the other men were with them in every way that counted. It was one of the many things he loved about this job. If anybody had asked him, up until last week, he would have answered he loved his job above all other things.

Alex’s thoughts flew to Yvette.

He wasn’t so stupid that he didn’t realize he was falling in love with her.

Around them, the wind roared. Alex hoped she was at home, and safe.

Finally, they began their descent. This part of the slope had serious amounts of powder. Alex thought it had less to do with the grooming and more to do with the wind that was blowing snow into the bowl. He knew it would disappear once they got to the narrow gully.

Alex looked up to see Ry disappear over the blind lip. He waited a short time, then followed, throwing himself over the precipice. There was a moment of weightlessness as he began the twenty-foot drop, then pure exhilaration. As he landed, bending his knees to absorb the fall, Alex leaned into his edges, glad he kept them sharp as knives.

He stopped at the bottom, looking up at the edge they’d come from.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Fuck indeed,” Beau replied. He held both ski poles in one hand and rubbed his knee with the other. Alex knew better than to ask, but hoped Beau’s old injury wasn’t plaguing him again. For a long time, Beau had hidden it from them. It was only when Val and Ren had come into his life that he’d become more open about things, and more willing to accept help from others. He’d had a successful surgery, but Alex imagined no surgeon in the world would approve of what they had just done.

Alex looked down at the ground. This area was ungroomed. No snow-cat could make its way here, and it hadn’t snowed that hard, so if the wind hadn’t blown them away, they’d be able to follow the trail of any skier who’d been this way recently.

But it doesn’t have to be the kid.

There were quite a few serious skiers in Chamonix, and any of them could have attempted this slope in the last days.

But they couldn’t rule out that Henri had been this way, either.

“Check this out,” Ry said. Beau and Alex both turned to where he pointed, at a row of exposed trees marking the far side of the piste. The tallest were bent at a strange angle, as if a harsh wind had literally pulled them sideways.

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