Gale turned to Indy. 'You set this whole thing up, didn't you?' He nodded.
'But, how did Tarkiz know when to come in? In fact, how did he know to come in?'
'My belt buckle. It's a batterypowered radio transmitter. Tarkiz had an earpiece receiver with the same frequency.
I pressed the buckle, he heard the clicks we'd prearranged as a signal, and he knew to come in loaded for bear.'
She studied him carefully. 'Indy?'
'Name it.'
'You made us targets tonight, didn't you?'
He nodded. 'I had to get their attention, somehow.' 'But . . . why didn't you tell me what was going to happen?'
'What, and let you worry?' Tarkiz guffawed.
8
'I've never seen him quite like this before,' Gale said to her group. The four sat together at a corner table in the hangar dining mess. Neither Rene Foulois nor Gale cared to eat at the ungodly hour of six o'clock in the morning. But the clock meant little to either the expansive frame of Tarkiz Belem or the portly figure of Willard Cromwell. The time to eat was whenever something tasty was put before them. Yet they paid full attention to the comments of their two comrades as the four of them studied Indy, seated alone at the opposite corner of the mess.
'He's not eating, you know,' Cromwell pointed out as he swallowed a chunk of bacon. 'Just sucking up that horrid black muck you people call coffee.'
'Fourth cup, the poor fellow,' Foulois agreed.
'He certainly seems antsy about something,' Cromwell said as he renewed his attack on his meal.
'What is this antsy?' Tarkiz questioned.
'Well, I certainly wouldn't call Indiana Jones nervous,' Gale said critically of the others' remarks. 'He's well, preoccupied. I'd say something very big was in the air.'
'You are all making with the crazy talk,' Tarkiz growled through a mouthful of bread soaked in butter and honey.
'You're drooling, old chap,' Cromwell noted. 'I know. I eat like starving bush hog. My wives tell me this many times,'
Tarkiz smiled. He turned back to Gale. 'So you tell me, woman. What means this antsy and what else you say about something falling down on us.'
His words brought smiles among them. 'Antsy means nervous or upset,' Gale said.
'You are not talking about Indy,' Tarkiz said angrily. 'I have followed many men. All over the world, woman. He is a man sure of himself, what he does. Quick, smart. Many good things. But this antsy?' Tarkiz shook his head angrily, spattering the others with food. 'That is dumb.' 'I'm with you,' Gale placated the Kurd glowering at the others.
'And as for what's in the air,' Cromwell broke in, 'there's the first sign. I knew there'd be trouble about last night.'
'No trouble was with last night!' Tarkiz growled, a fist slamming against the table, bouncing dishes and cups and silverware noisily. 'You do not understand!
Nothing happened from last night because no one will ever say anything.' He sneered at Cromwell and Foulois. 'You think that someone would call the police?
That is last thing that will happen!'
'Then what, if I may be so bold, was that fracas about last night? After all, Tarkiz, all we know is what you and Gale have told us,' Cromwell said pointedly.
Gale rested her hand on Tarkiz's arm. He started to jerk away his arm, thought better of the move, and sat quietly.
She turned to the two men watching her and Tarkiz. 'I'll let Indy tell you himself. But I can tell you this much.
Everything he did was worked out to the nth degree. Don't you understand yet? He set himself up as a target! He might as well have painted a bull'seye on his forehead—'
She stopped in midsentence as a man in a severe gray business suit, wearing a bowler hat and carrying a briefcase, joined Indy at his table. Cromwell leaned closer to Foulois. 'Frenchy, I never forget a face. I know that chap.'
'Who is he?'
'I don't know his name. But I've seen him before at i Whitehall and—'
Cromwell snapped his fingers. 'And at the Air Ministry. By Jove, if my memory serves me, he's top echelon with British Intelligence.'
Rene Foulois smiled. 'It promises to be an interesting day. And here comes our good Colonel Henshaw.'
The army officer moved a chair to their table. 'Am I interrupting things?'
Rene smiled. 'No, no. Our friend Tarkiz was about to start on his third breakfast, that's all.'
'Well, I'm here to tell you that at twelve noon today there will be a special meeting. I imagine you know you're expected to be there,' Henshaw explained.
'Where? This meeting is where?' Tarkiz said through another huge mouthful of food.
'If you'd be here no later than eleventhirty, I'll be here to take you to the meeting. Oh, yes, Professor Jones
