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night,” Jamal said, sitting on the bench next to Neal. “It’s sort of sketchy toward the top. Slick as glass.”
    â€œGood,” Salazar said. “You got first, Jamal. Show us the route.”
    When Jamal had his gear on, the four athletes walked over to the wall. A safety harness hung down from the top by two nylon ropes. A pulley system would catch Jamal if he slipped off the wall.
    Jamal stepped into the harness and ran the rope through his belt. He gave it a sharp tug to make certain it was anchored, then asked Frank to hand him his ice axes.
    â€œNow show us your scoot,” Salazar said.
    Jamal looped one ax over a hook on his belt, then swung the other at the wall. The pick end stuck tight in a narrow fissure.
    Using his free hand to balance against the wall, Jamal pulled himself up. He jammed the sharp tips of his crampons into the ice.
    With a few deft moves, he was twenty feet off the ground. Then he seemed to get stuck.
    â€œThere’s a fissure above your left hand,” Frank called.
    Hanging on the wall like an insect, Jamal reached up as high as he could and jammed the flat adze end of his ax into the fissure. He pulled himself sideways and up, then suddenly fumbled for a foothold. He slipped down a couple of feet, snapping the rope tight.
    â€œHa!” Salazar shouted. “On a free climb you’d splat, Hawkins.”
    â€œIf I fall, I’m gonna make sure it’s right on your head, Rick,” Jamal answered.
    Jamal wasn’t stalled for long. Once he maneuvered around a big bulge in the ice, it was easy climbing to the top.
    He stood up on the edge and tossed the safety harness down. “Who’s next?”
    Salazar grabbed the harness. “Get out your stopwatch, Hardy,” he said. “You’re about to see a new record.”
    Within seconds Salazar was halfway up the wall. So many ice chips were flying that Frank and Neal had to step back and shield their eyes as they watched him.
    Jamal appeared, having climbed down the ladder at the back of the wall. “How’s he doing?”
    â€œHe’s moving,” Neal said. “It’s like he’s memorized the whole thing.”
    Salazar took the wall in big chunks, reaching far over his head with one arm to sink his ax, then pulling up and hammering the other one in above it.
    He pulled himself over the top ledge and looked down, smirking. “Here you go, Frank,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
    The harness landed at Frank’s feet.
    â€œTake your time, Frank,” Jamal said. “Don’t let him psych you out.”
    Frank clipped on the harness and dug his axes into the wall. He hoisted himself up, scooted sideways a foot or so, then started to climb along a small crevasse he had discovered.
    â€œThe ice is good,” he said to Jamal. “Not too soft, not too brittle.”
    â€œYeah,” Jamal said. “Wait till you get to the top. It’s not so nice there.”
    â€œHow’s it going, Frank?” Salazar yelled fromabove. “I’m timing you with a sundial up here, man.”
    Frank ignored Rick. He looked away from the wall for a moment. He was now about thirty feet up, he guessed. A few spectators were sitting in the bleachers, watching the athletes practice.
    Frank came to a big bulge in the ice. He couldn’t see the top now; it was like being under a ledge. The safest thing to do would be to go around it, as Jamal had done. But it might be faster to go right over it.
    Reaching back over his head, Frank smashed his ax into the bulge. Splinters of ice rained down on him. He tugged. The ax seemed secure.
    Frank made sure his feet were set, then slammed the other ax into the ice. Now came the tricky part. He would have to let go with his feet. Then he would be hanging in midair by the ax handles. To get over the ledge he would have to use only his arms, pulling each ax out in turn and hammering it back