Rules of Deception Read Free

the thigh and working down. Suddenly, her face contorted in agony. “No…stop!” she cried.
    Jonathan pulled his hands away. A few inches above the knee, something pressed sharply against the fabric of her pants. He stared at the grotesque bulge. There was only one thing that looked like that.
    “It’s broken, isn’t it?” Emma’s eyes were wide, blinking rapidly. “I can’t wiggle my toes. It feels like a bunch of loose wires down there. It hurts, Jonathan. I mean the real thing.”
    “Keep calm, and let me take a look.”
    Using his Swiss Army knife, he cut a slit in her ski pants and gingerly separated the fabric. Splintered bone protruded from her thermal underwear. The material around it was wet with blood. She’d suffered a compound fracture of the femur.
    “How bad is it, really?” Emma asked.
    “Bad enough,” he said, as if it were only a hairline fracture. He shook out five Advil and helped her take a sip of water. Then, using adhesive tape from the first aid kit, he secured the tear in her ski pants. “We need to get you on your back and facing downhill. Okay?”
    Emma nodded.
    “First, I’m going to splint your leg. I don’t want that bone moving anywhere. For now, just stay still.”
    “Christ, Jonathan, does it look like I’m going to walk anywhere?”
    Jonathan walked up the slope to retrieve her skis and ski poles. Placing one pole on either side of the leg, he cut a length of climbing rope, tied off one end, and wrapped it round and round the thigh and calf. Kneeling by her side, he handed her his leather wallet. “Here.”
    Emma clamped it between her teeth.
    Jonathan slowly tightened the rope until the poles embraced the broken limb. Emma sucked in a breath. He tied off the other end of the rope, then turned her on her back and rotated her body so her head lay above her feet. After that, he spent a minute fashioning a hill behind her back so she could sit up. “Better?” he asked.
    Emma grimaced as a tear sped down her cheek.
    He touched her shoulder. “Alright, let’s get some help up here.” He took the two-way radio from his jacket. “Davos Rescue,” he said, turning out of the wind. “I need to report an emergency. Skier injured on the south side of the Furga at the base of Roman’s. Over.”
    Silence greeted his call.
    “Davos Rescue,” he repeated. “I have an emergency requiring immediate assistance. Come back.”
    A blizzard of white noise answered. He tried again. Again, there was no response.
    “It’s the weather,” said Emma. “Go to another channel.”
    Jonathan flipped to the next channel. Years ago, he’d worked as an instructor and ski patrolman in the Alps, and he’d programmed the radio with the frequencies of every emergency rescue service in the area—Davos, Arosa, and Lenzerheide—as well as the Kantonspolizei, the Swiss Alpine Club, and Rega, the helicopter rescue outfit known to skiers and climbers as the meat wagon.
    “Arosa Rescue. Skier injured on the south side of the Furga. Immediate assistance required.”
    Again, there was no response. He brought the radio closer. The power light flickered weakly. He banged the radio against his leg. The light blinked and went dark. “It’s dead.”
    “Dead? The radio? How’s that? I saw you try it last night.”
    “It was fine then.” Jonathan clicked the instrument on and off several times, but it refused to come to life.
    “Is it the batteries?”
    “I don’t see how. I put in a fresh set yesterday.” Removing his mittens, he examined the inside of the set. “Not the batteries,” he said. “The wiring. The power unit’s not attached to the transmitter.”
    “Attach it.”
    “I can’t. Not here. I’m not sure I could even if I had the tools.” He tossed the two-way radio into his bag.
    “What about the phone?” Emma asked.
    “What about it? It’s a big-time dead zone up here.”
    “Try it,” she commanded.
    The signal icon on Jonathan’s cell phone showed a parabolic antenna