She climbed up and sat crosslegged. 'How did those people know who we were, where we were on this train, when we'd be here?'
He smiled. 'You haven't figured there's a big fat leak in our security?'
'I have now,' she said angrily. 'Any ideas?'
'Some,' he shrugged. 'I'm working on it.'
'But why would they want to kill you?'
'Us,' he reminded her.
She shuddered.
'They'd have to kill you also,' he went on, checking the Webley. 'We're a team. If they don't get you, they could be identified later. So, you're also a target.'
'You still didn't say why they want to kill you. Us,' she amended.
'Tomorrow.'
'You expect a lot tomorrow.'
He nodded.
'Indy, you can't go around New York with that cannon hanging from your belt.'
'I know.' He was already removing the Webley from the belt holster to slip it into an underarm holster.
Abruptly he slammed a fist into his hand. 'Sometimes I feel like an idiot. I've been carrying that thing loaded and ready to shoot, and I never took any pictures when I had the chance. Those people in Tarkiz's room, I mean.'
'That's bothering you? You didn't take pictures? Just saving our lives wasn't enough? You're upset because you didn't use your camera?'
'That's what cameras are for!'
She sighed. 'Good night, Indy.' He heard a muttered 'Good grief . . .'
They moved through Pennsylvania Station in the midst of the early morning crowd rush. Normally, Indy disliked being shuffled along with cattle herds of people, but this time it served his purpose by swallowing up his group of three.
Indy and Gale walked together, Tarkiz several steps behind them, maintaining their pace despite a swollen leg and a painful limp. They departed the station on the north side, where a long line of taxicabs queued up. Indy saw what he wanted across the street: a Yellow Cab with the number 294 on its side. He nodded to Tarkiz.
'That one's ours.'
'His sign says he's taken,' Gale noticed.
'He is. By us,' Indy said in clipped tones. The driver leaned back and opened their door. Inside, they took stock of the man in the front seat. He was a huge black fellow with a heavy beard and dark glasses that concealed his eyes, and he spoke with a melodious British accent. 'Welcome to New York,' he said with a hearty laugh.
Gale nudged Indy and mouthed the word Jamaica. He nodded.
The big man before them adjusted his rearview mirror. 'You are right, miss.
Jamaica it is.' Laughter greeted her expression of surprise. 'I do not read minds, Miss Parker. I read lips very well.'
'And you know my name,' Gale said cautiously.
'But of course!' came the reply. 'Yours, and that of Professor Jones, and that very ugly fellow with the strange name of Tarkiz Belem. Ugly with a strange name.
His mother must not have liked him very much.'
Tarkiz started forward. Indy motioned for him to sit quietly. Whoever this man was, he was incredibly cocky and selfconfident. 'You were sent, no doubt, by the man from Copertino,' Indy offered, referring to the coded message Henshaw had given him.
White teeth flashed in a wider smile. 'Saint Joseph has assigned me to your good health and needs. My name is Jocko Kilarney. While you are in New York, I am your guide, your friend, your driver, and your protector.'
Indy felt right about this man. He was big and he was powerful, and even under his shirt musculature rippled across huge shoulders. Indy would have bet a dollar to a dime he also knew his way about the sordid underworld of this city.
'By the way, Professor, your man, this big ugly fellow with you, he is really very good,' said the driver. 'Sometime this morning two bodies were found along the railroad tracks over which your train brought you here. Before you find the need to ask, Professor, they were both quite dead, and neither body had any identification.
The police will simply dispose of the bodies in Potter's Field.'
'What's that?' Gale whispered.
'Cemetery for the unknown and unwanted,' Indy said to Gale. He directed his attention to the driver. 'Any connections of any kind?'
'Nobody knows anything, mon, and you may forget about anyone claiming those two.' He turned to look at Indy and Tarkiz. 'That was quite a technique. I admire efficiency. A net studded with fishhooks. Very original.'
He started the engine and depressed the clutch to shift into first gear.
Indy felt pressure from Tarkiz's hand, a signal. Indy nodded. The big man was still steaming from Kilarney's playful insults, and Indy decided to let him have his head.
'Hey, you fellow, Jocko!' Tarkiz called out.
'What may I do for you, goatkeeper?'
