Читать книгу Edge of the Map. The Mountain Life of Christine Boskoff онлайн

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“What do you do for a living?” one asked her as she limbered up a 5.10 line. “Oh,” said Boskoff, who had recently topped out on Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn, “I run a travel business.”

LIGHT MIXED WITH DUST POURED through a grimy window in the police station conference room. As more officers crammed inside, standing room became scarce. God, this is too much, thought Ted Callahan. What the hell do they think they’re going to see here?

It had taken more than twenty-four hours for the police to grant Callahan’s request to open the bags, and suddenly it was time. The Chinese Public Security Bureau (PSB) here in far western China initially acted as though his request to unlock Chris’s and Charlie’s duffels had been overstepping bounds. Now, it seemed every desk clerk and janitor in the building had packed into the small space, all waiting to see the bags reveal their secrets.

The buzz from the Chinese police officers collided with the tranquil scene just outside the station. The streets of Litang were home to Tibetan Buddhists, most of them dressed in traditional clothing of richly woven fabrics made from yak hair. Oblivious to the drama inside the station, the locals were focused instead on impending weather systems and the impact to their barley crops.