I looked along the ridge, trying to reconstruct the scene. And then I noticed that, away to the right, the avalanche became indistinct as though fresh snow had fallen on it. 'I think I know what happened,' I said.
He looked at me enquiringly.
'Engles had only eighty-five seconds' start on Keramikos at Col da Varda,' I said. 'I timed it by my watch. The fact that he was a brilliant skier would only help him on the down slopes. Going uphill it would be a matter of endurance; and Keramikos, as likely as not, was in better condition. He couldn't have been far behind Engles when they began to side-step up the slope from that gap over there. Keramikos would gain a bit at the bottom of that climb. And then, when he!
started along the track that runs under the crest there, Engles found his progress blocked by an avalanche. That's an old one at the end of the crest there to the right. He couldn't go back. Keramikos was close behind him and he had a gun. And he couldn't go forward because of the avalanche. There would have been only one thing to do — and he did it. He came straight down the avalanche slope. He was a good enough skier to try it.'
'And in doing so, he started an avalanche that brought Keramikos down too?' Joe finished for me. He looked up at the slope again, running his eyes along the ridge. Then he nodded. That's about the size of it,' he said. 'Could he still be alive?' He nodded in the direction of the body, lying like a black smut on the white shirt-front of the mountain.
'We'd better go and see,' I said. 'Can we make it, do you think?'
'We can try,' he replied.
It was a precipitous climb. The snow was soft and as soon as we had made any height, we had to pack it down with our skis at each step in order to get a grip on the slope. And each time we trampled it solid, I thought the whole slope would slide away from under our feet.
But at last we reached the body. It was huddled in an untidy heap, its face buried in the snow, one arm broken and twisted unnaturally behind its back. We turned it over. It was Keramikos all right. He was stiff and cold. Only his head was unaffected by rigor. The neck was broken. I took off my gloves and searched through his clothing, which was frozen hard. He had no gun on him. But in his breast pocket I found his wallet. It contained nothing of interest except the statement by Korporal Holtz. This I put in my pocket.
We managed to slide the body down to the rock outcrop at the bottom. There we left it to be collected later, and made our way back to Tre Croci. It was beginning to snow again by the time we reached the hotel.