Indy turned to Willard Cromwell. 'Will, you fly this trip. Gale, you'll be up front with him, navigating and helping him in any way you can. We'll talk to each other with the headsets and helmet microphones for intercom.
Rene, I'll need you to work with me and the maps. Tarkiz, you'll work the snatch hook and the cradle reel. Everybody understand?'
They all nodded.
'And after we leave,' Rene offered, gesturing to take in the farm, 'what happens here? From the beginning you have stressed repeatedly, my friend, we leave nothing behind us, wherever we are, no matter what, that will be useful as personal identification.'
'Right,' Indy agreed.
'You do not mind elucidating for us?' asked the Frenchman.
'We feed the dogs just before we take off. Arrangements have been made for them to be picked up one hour after we're gone. Whoever retrieves them drives in, puts the dogs in cages in his truck, and leaves. He does nothing else but that.'
'He won't come come into the house?' Cromwell asked lazily.
'Not if he knows what's good for him. No shillyshallying around. In and out.
And all trace of us is gone.'
'How can you hide our flying machine!' Rene Foulois objected suddenly. 'You have magic to do this?'
The group laughed. But Indy didn't want questions lingering. 'Sort of,' he told Foulois. 'You're right, Frenchy.
We can't hide the airplane. No way to disguise a big machine like the Ford.
Not with three engines banging away. So what you can't hide, you disguise. I told you we'll paint that public works sign on the ship. And tonight, in fact, another Ford will be flying nearby. Tomorrow, during daylight, a Department of Public Works trimotor, the real thing, will be cruising around this area. It's on a highwayandfloodcontrol survey and it will keep right on flying for a few days after we're gone.'
Tarkiz Belem had remained silent through the exchange. 'What is all this for, Indiana Jones?' he asked, his tone showing some concern about a detailed plan that seemed to have nowhere to go.
'We're going to rob a train,' Indy said. He laughed at the reactions about him.
'Rob a train?' echoed Gale Parker.
'That's right.'
Tarkiz studied Indy with suspicion. 'I know you do many things, but train robbery . . .' He shook his head.
'Well, I see I've got your interest,' Indy said lightheartedly.
'For someone who is an archeologist,' Foulois broke in with a touch of sudden jocularity, 'you seem to be taking on a new persona. What will be next, Indy? Holding up a stagecoach?' He held out his hands with extended fingers and upraised thumbs in the manner of holding two sixshooters. 'Bang! Bang!' he shouted. 'The fearless international wine merchants blaze their way through hostile redheads—'
'Redskins,' Indy corrected.
'Of course. We blaze our way through and hold up the stagecoach. Indy, we might as well have stayed in England and become bandits in Sherwood Forest!'
For someone who was connected with the highest levels of this operation, mused Indy, Foulois was doing a wonderful job of expressing doubts he knew were shared by the others.
He spread out maps on the dining room table and motioned for the others to move in closer.
'Tomorrow night,' he said, moving his finger to a circled spot on the map, 'this is where we make the hit. Figuring everything necessary to be ready, we'll take off precisely one hour before we're over the train. That way we'll have enough time to correct any problems—mechanical, weather, whatever it might be—so we can be right on time. That's necessary. The timing, I mean. There's a schedule we must keep.'
Gale could hardly contain herself. 'Indy, are you saying that we're going to rob a train from the airplane?'
He looked up at her, his face showing no sign of his thoughts. 'Yes, I am.'
She leaned back, bewildered, but obviously ready to wait for more of whatever wild scheme Indy had cooked up.
'May I ask a question before you go further?' Cromwell broke in. Indy nodded and Cromwell continued. 'It's really a small matter, I suppose. But I'm a bit new to this wild and woolly America of yours, Indy. What happens, the consequences, I mean, if we're identified?'
'Oh, I have every intention of our being identified,' Indy told him casually.
'Not under our names, of course, but as a group under a different name. Robbing the train wouldn't be worth the bother if we didn't get the blame that way.'
Cromwell nudged Foulois. 'You're right, Frenchy. I do believe he's quite mad.'
5
'Ladies! Gentlemen! Your attention, please!' Dr. Filipo Castilano, Ph.D., antiquities investment counselor for museums throughout the world, director of the Office of Research and Confirmation for Antiquity Investments, Ltd., rang a delicate glass bell for attention. He faced a noisy crowd of newspapermen, radio reporters, and special correspondents from throughout the world, gathered in the Archeological Lecture Forum of the University of London.
Castilano waited patiently while the crowd settled down. It gave him a moment to gesture to the university
