They waved their understanding and started across the plateau toward the object.

“Here, wait . . .” Hosni called. They walked back. He climbed out of the cockpit and stooped beside the tail storage compartment. He removed what looked like a foldable tent pole and handed it to Sam. “Avalanche probe. Works as well with crevasses. Best to be safe.”

“Thanks.” Sam gave the probe a flick, and it snaked outward, the inner bungee cord snapping the sections into place. “Nifty.”

They set off again, this time with Sam probing as they walked.

The ice sheet that partially covered the plateau was rippled like waves frozen in place, leftover, they assumed, by the glacier’s slow grinding retreat up the valley.

The object in question lay near the far edge of the plateau, sitting kitty-corner to the rest of the plateau.

After five minutes of careful walking, they stood before it.

“I’m glad I didn’t bet you,” Sam said. “That’s a gondola, all right.”

“Upside down. That explains why it looked like a hut. They don’t make them like this anymore. What in the world is it doing here?”

“No idea.”

Remi took a step forward; Sam halted her with a hand on her shoulder. He probed the ice in front of the gondola, found it solid, then began poking around what should have been its sides.

“There’s more,” Sam said.

They continued sidestepping left, paralleling the gondola, probing as they went, until they reached the end.

Sam frowned and said, “Curiouser and curiouser.”

Remi asked. “How long is it?”

“Roughly thirty feet.”

“That’s impossible. Aren’t most maybe three feet by three feet?”

“More or less.” He slid the probe over the gondola’s upturned bottom as far as he could reach. “Nearly eight feet wide.”

Sam handed her the probe, then knelt down and crawled forward, hands sliding through the snow along the gondola’s side.

“Sam, be care-”

His arm plunged into the snow up to his elbow. He froze.

“I can’t be entirely sure,” he said with a grin, “but I think I found something.” He laid himself flat.

“I got you,” Remi replied. She grabbed his boots.

Sam used both hands to punch a basketball-sized hole in the ice, then poked his head inside. He turned back to Remi. “A crevasse. Very deep. The gondola’s half straddling it diagonally.”

He took another peek through the hole, then wriggled back away from the crevasse and pushed himself to his knees. He said, “I’ve found the answer to how it got here.”

“How?”

“It flew. There’s rigging still attached to the gondola-wooden stays, some kind of braided cord . . . I even saw what looked like a fabric of some sort. The whole tangled mess is hanging in the crevasse.”

Remi sat down beside him, and they stared at the gondola for a bit. Remi said, “A mystery for another time?”

Sam nodded. “Absolutely. We’ll mark it and come back.”

They stood up. Sam cocked his head. “Listen.”

Faintly in the distance came the chopping of helicopter rotors. They turned around, trying to localize the sound. Standing beside the Bell, Hosni had heard it too. He stared up at the sky.

Suddenly to their left an olive green helicopter popped over the ridgeline, then dropped into the valley and turned in their direction. On the aircraft’s door was a five-pointed red star outlined in yellow.

The helicopter drew even with the plateau and slowed to a hover fifty feet from Sam and Remi, nose cone and rocket pods pointed directly at them.

“Don’t move,” Sam said.

“Chinese Army?” asked Remi.

“Yes. Same as the Z-9 we spotted yesterday.”

“What do they want?”

Before Sam could answer, the helicopter pivoted, revealing an open cabin door. In it, a soldier crouched behind a mounted machine gun.

Sam could sense Remi’s body go tense beside him. He slowly grasped her hand in his. “Don’t run. If they wanted us dead, we’d already be dead.”

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw movement. He glanced toward the helicopter and saw Hosni opening the side door. A moment later he emerged. In his hands was a compact machine gun. He raised it toward the Z-9.

“Hosni, no!” Sam shouted.

Hosni’s machine gun bucked, and the muzzle flashed orange. Bullets peppered the Z-9’s windshield. The helicopter banked sharply right, then accelerated away, skimming over the lake’s surface toward the ridgeline, where it banked again until its nose was again aimed at the Bell.

“Hosni, run!” Sam shouted, then to Remi: “Behind the gondola! Go!”

Remi spun into a sprint, with Sam close on her heels.

“Remi, the crevasse!” Sam called. “Veer left.”

Remi did, then pushed off with both legs, diving headfirst onto the gondola. Sam hit it a moment later, then pushed himself to his knees and helped Remi onto the ice shelf. They tumbled down the backside and landed in a sprawling heap.

From across the plateau they heard the chattering of Hosni’s machine gun. Sam stood up and peeked over the ice. Hosni was standing defiantly at the edge of the plateau, firing at the oncoming Z-9.

“Hosni, get out of there!”

The Z-9 stopped in a hover a hundred yards away. Sam saw a flash from the left-hand rocket pod. Hosni saw it as well. He turned and began sprinting toward Sam and Remi.

“Faster!” Sam shouted.

With a brilliant flash of light and a plume of smoke, a pair of rockets burst from the Z-9’s pod. In a split second they reached the Bell, one striking the ground beneath the tail, the other slamming into the engine compartment.

The Bell convulsed, leapt upward, then exploded.

Sam ducked and threw himself over Remi. They felt the blast ripple through the plateau, felt the ice crackle beneath them. A wave of shrapnel pelted into the gondola and through the ice shelf a foot above their heads.

Then silence.

Sam said, “Follow me,” and crawled down the length of the ice shelf to the end of the gondola. On his belly, he wriggled forward and peered around the corner.

The plateau was strewn with the shattered remains of the Bell. Jagged chunks of the fuselage, still rocking from the concussion, sat amid a sheet of burning aviation fuel. Splintered lengths of rotor blade jutted from the snowbanks.

The Z-9 had retreated across the lake to the ridgeline, where it hovered, rocket pods still pointed menacingly at the plateau.

Remi said, “Do you see Hosni?”

“I’m looking.”

Sam spotted him lying beside a ragged piece of the Bell’s windshield. The body was charred. Then Sam spotted something else. Directly ahead of them, twenty feet away, was Hosni’s machine gun. It looked intact. He pulled back and faced Remi.

“He’s gone. Never felt a thing.”

“Oh, no.”

“I spotted his machine gun. I think I can reach it.”

“Sam, no. You don’t even know if it works. Where’s the Z-9?”

“Hovering. Probably radioing their base for instructions. They’ve already spotted us; they’ll be coming in for a closer look.”

“You can’t hope to hold them off for long.”

“My guess is they want us alive. Otherwise, they would be pounding this plateau with missiles.”

“Why, what are they after?”

“I have a hunch.”

“Me too. We’ll compare notes later, if we’re alive. What’s your plan?”

“They can’t land, not with all the debris, so they’ll have to hover above the plateau and fast-rope soldiers down. If I can catch them at the right moment, maybe . . .” Sam let his words trail off. “Maybe,” he added. “What’s your vote? Fight and perhaps die here or surrender and end up in a Chinese prison camp?”

Remi smiled gamely. “You really have to ask?”

Half hoping, half expecting the Z-9 would make a reconnaissance pass before putting men on the ground, Sam sent Remi back along the ice shelf, where she buried herself in the snow between a pair of drifts. Sam crouched beside the gondola and readied himself.