Shannon's brow furrowed. There was something strangely familiar about the weapon he studied. Guns in Chicago were as common as cigarettes. But who carried a Webley? A Smith & Wesson, sure. Or a Colt auto. Even a longbarreled Remington, but—
Shannon's eyes widened as the old man tossed aside the knitted cap. A moment later he tugged the false beard from his face, and broke into a huge smile.
The windbreaker was tossed aside, and the Webley disappeared beneath a dark blue suede sport jacket.
'Hello, Jack,' the nolongerold man said.
Shannon was halfway out of his chair, eyes wide. 'I don't believe this,' he whispered. 'Good Lord Amighty, I don't believe this. Indy!'
'The one and only,' Indy grinned at him. Shannon was on his feet, rushing forward, throwing his arms about his closest friend, hugging him fiercely. They pounded one another on their backs.
Shannon pushed Indy back, staring at him. 'Man, you're a sight for sore eyes,' he said, his delight unquestioned. 'But . . . but why the routine?' He held up a hand. 'Just hold it a minute, Indy. After what you put me through, I need a drink.' He half turned as he took a bottle and two glasses from a wall bar. 'And you, old friend, need some mouthwash and a bath!'
'All part of the show, Jack. Let's have that drink. I can hardly stand this garlic and fish smell any more than you can.'
Shannon brought the glass to Indy, his friend from longgone schooldays, the same man who'd been his closest pal for years. They clinked glasses and for the moment drank in silence. Shannon poured again, but this time Indy sipped slowly.
'You look great, Jack. Still thin as a rail, but—' He shrugged. 'How's your playing?'
'Better than ever. We got a regular crowd now. Some people have the idea I'm setting a new trend with the blues.'
Shannon finished the second drink, put aside the glass, and dropped back into the easy chair.
'But I still don't believe all this!' he burst out suddenly. 'Indy, what is all this? You didn't need to go through a routine to come in here! We've been pals forever.'
Indy swilled a taste of whiskey around his mouth to cut down the fish and garlic and to remove the last of the powder he'd held in a capsule until he needed it to cut down the doorman. He put down the glass, still half full.
'It's simple, Jack,' Indy said, his tone suddenly serious. 'No one but you is to know that I've—that is, Professor Henry Jones—has been here tonight.'
'I don't get it,' Jack Shannon answered, as straight as Indy had spoken to him. 'In the old days you were a fixture here every now and then. Something wrong, Indy? I mean, you've got to have a good reason for laying low like this.'
Shannon thought of the past and chuckled. 'But then again, you always had a good reason for anything you did. So what's the score, pal?'
Indy studied the man with whom he'd grown up in his Chicago days. 'Jack, you still with the church?'
'What?'
'I mean, you always stayed with what your family felt was important. I don't remember you ever missed Sunday in church.'
'I still don't miss it. Just like it always was. Why?'
'It could affect what I have to ask you.'
'Only way to find out is to ask, Indy. But first, tell me: What did you do to Patterson?'
'Who?'
'The gorilla we keep at the front door. I've seen him take on a whole bunch of troublemakers and flatten the place.
You had him crying like a schoolgirl.'
'Oh, that.' Indy nodded. 'Tiger Tears. It's a powder I had some chemists whip up for me. They put it in a capsule and you release it by biting down. Makes the eyes smart and tear. Your man won't see much before tomorrow, but he'll be fine after that.'
'Thanks for telling me. I mean, Patterson's a pretty good guy. He never made it big in the ring and he works hard to protect us in here. Okay, that's all I'm going to ask you, Indy. The way you're talking I guess you're in town for a quick visit and then you're going to split, right?'
'Right.'
'Same way you came in? Beard, limp, the old bum routine?'
Indy shook his head. 'Uhuh. When I leave here I'll be a welldressed society heel, mustache, racing cap, the works.
You still have that private exit to the alley for your car?'
'Sure do.'
'That's how I'll go, then. Want to give me a ride?'
'You got it. Now, look, Indy, you're not in trouble, are you? I know I asked you before, but, well, I'd do anything for you. You're the best friend I've got.'
'Thanks, Jack. No, I'm not in trouble.'
'You sure you've got to cut out? I mean, buddy, I could play you a couple of your favorite numbers, just for
