The Secret Chamber Read Online Free PDF Page A

hard, sir. Mr Matthews has always been his own man and I have never heard of him changing his mind for anyone. Especially when it comes to crossing the snowline.’
    Bob’s expression clouded over as Gygme’s words resonated in his head.
    ‘Matthews,’ he repeated. ‘You mean, Luca Matthews … the English climber? Jesus Christ, that’s
Matthews
? But he’s climbed every damn’ route …’
    Bob trailed off, lost in his own thoughts as Gygme slowly nodded.
    ‘That is indeed Luca Matthews. One of my finest porters, but I don’t believe he has ever been a climber. Apparently, it is mostly flat in his country. Only hills.’
    Gygme then turned, hoisting his pack into a more comfortable position, and with the ambivalence of one born to the mountains, continued up towards the snow line.

Chapter 4
     
    IT TOOK LUCA only three hours to descend to the nearest village. Without the load and travelling alone, he moved in a continuous flow, his feet instinctually finding a grip on the slippery path.
    He arrived at the outskirts of the village and pulled himself to a halt just as the rain became heavier, descending in vertical sheets across the black sky. Rivulets of water channelled through the muddy ground, passing directly in front of a small collection of dilapidated huts built in a semi-circle on the edge of the mountainside. It was a desolate sight, the only sign of life coming from the smoke wafting up through the wooden roofs before it was beaten back down again by the rain.
    Luca stood in the centre of the village, his sodden clothes steaming from his body heat. He tilted his head up and let the rain splatter down on his face. He could feel his heart pumping in his chest and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt truly alive.
    As he stood there, one of the doors creaked open and a huge bear-like man ducked his head under the low frame. He peered cautiously out, revealing thick black hair that melded into an equally thick beard. His eyes squinted at Luca, etching lines deeper across his craggy face, before a cigarette was raised to his lips and he inhaled deeply, drawing on it with such force that it looked as if he was trying to finish the entire thing in a single breath.
    ‘I have heard the one about Englishmen and the midday sun, but I never knew they went out in the rain as well.’
    Luca’s eyes clicked open in disbelief, making him blink against the rain. His mouth opened too as he tried to speak, then he simply shook his head.
    ‘René,’ Luca breathed at last, a smile lighting up his face. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
    René’s face broke into an equally wide grin and he cast his eyes up to the sky.
    ‘If you bother to get out of the pissing rain, I’ll tell you. Or is this how you usually spend your days?’
    Luca laughed, slowly shaking his head as he trudged over to the open door, his feet sinking into the soft mud. Before he had even had time to step up on to the porch, René grabbed him in his huge arms and hugged him.
    ‘You always were a crazy bastard,’ he said, pulling the younger man back a little so he could look into his eyes. Despite the layers of clothing, he could feel how wiry Luca had become, his hands gripping on to bands of pure muscle. There couldn’t have been more than an ounce of fat on his whole body.
    ‘You look well,’ he lied, taking in Luca’s hollow cheeks and faint beard. ‘And you’ve been out here so long, you even smell like a mountain goat!’
    Shepherding Luca inside the small hut, he helped him off with his coat and motioned for him to sit on a low wooden bench in the corner of the room. Luca sat heavily, resting his boots almost in the ash of the fire, and wiped his hair back from his face, sending a spray of water out behind him. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom and smoke, he could see an old woman waiting at the back of the room, clutching a heavy pot of tea.
    Without being asked she approached, balancing two small