14
Frank strode across the large square plot of land that his camp cook, Tembe, had secured for Khum Jung Mountaineering and headed for the Command tent. As always, Tembe had done a bang-up job of getting things set up. The cache of four hundred and twenty bottles of oxygen had been neatly stacked, chained, and locked up, waiting to be tagged and labeled. Twenty solar panels were laid out nearby and wired to batteries. The climbers’ personal tents and gear had been broken down and piled beside the Command tent. And last but not least, their camp latrine had been set up and ballasted to the ground.
Pulling the Command tent flap back, he went in to find his old friend with his nose buried behind a clipboard. The man was going over the inventory that had been brought up to Base Camp by yak
