Part 1. Marty
Chapter 1.
April 3, 2005
“Marty, you’ve been awfully quiet. Is everything all right?” “Yes, I think so,” I said. I tried to gather enough courage to tell Steve a story that was haunting me, but I was convinced that it would mean fewer invitations to join him on the slope. Steve was twenty years younger and had taught me how to ski powder. Skiing powder sometimes required some hiking—and I was reluctant to mention anything that might make Steve, or his high-speed quad1 and tram friends, exclude someone who had developed what might be thought of as an alien conspiracy theory. “I was thinking about this creaky chair lift and wondering if we should have put some climbing rope in one of our backpacks.” Steve looked down the slope at the line of empty chairs behind us on the lift and gave me a smile “I heard skiers had to be off-loaded during some nasty weather last weekend. This old chair lift sure has a reputation for breaking down. It’s not like that new gondola we road at Chamonix1.” When Steve mentioned the new gondola at Chamonix, I was reminded that my story concerned a French symbol in Bertel Thorvaldsen's famous Lion of Lucerne monument. I wanted to talk to Steve, but a listener would certainly need plenty of patience. I'd also need time and I knew a ski lift was not a good choice. The multiple layers are due to the fact that the story is old, but then, I'm old, and I've learned to pay attention. After studying the detailed pieces of the complex story for months, I may have let go of it entirely, if I had not noticed that The Lions of Lucerne was the title of a new spy novel written by an author named Brad Thor. Thor says he always gets asked if he's using his real name. I wondered about Brad's name myself because his last name is the first syllable of the Danish scupltor who designed the lion monument in Lucerne. Thor is also the Norse god of thunder and son of Odin. Steve was not the person to talk to and I needed to change the subject. “I received a call from an editor at Outside Magazine yesterday. He wants me to write a small piece on how to get off your tails and carve.” Steve smiled “You’re perfect for that assignment.” Steve had taught me how to ski powder, and I had taught him some aggressive skiing techniques that I learned in the years I had raced. From the first time I skied, it had been my passion; although hiking is a close second. My mother and father taught me how to ski when I was four and we lived within thirty minutes of a ski resort near the Canadian border. My parents were both excellent skiers, and my Dad skied until he was 78. That morning, as I talked to Steve, I realized that most people are probably too busy to research details about the French monarchy or the Danish scupltor who designed the Lion of Lucerne.
Chapter 2.