Indiana Jones & the Peril at Delphi

'Just a few days. I'm writing a novel that takes place in Paris during the revolution.'

'This is the city for writers. Seems like there's a novelist or two in every cafe.'

'I know. I saw Booth Tarkington the other day. Talked to him for a bit.' He tapped the book on the table.

'Had to pick up one of his books after that. Seventeen. Have you read it?'

'A few years ago.' It was about an American boy confronting adolescence; that was all he recalled, except that the kid had a younger sister who ate bread with applesauce. 'I've seen James Joyce in here.'

'You have?' Conrad looked around as if expecting to see the Irish author. Then his eyes settled on someone approaching the table.

'Henry Jones. There you are.' Indy turned and saw Dorian Belecamus strolling up to the table. She wore a blue robe and a white turban. Like Conrad, she'd stepped out of her professorial character. Both men rose to their feet, and Indy introduced the two professors.

'And you can both call me Indy, instead of Henry. That's my father's name.'

Belecamus seemed annoyed; she looked about the cafe as if in search of another table.

'It seems the place is full,' Conrad said stiffly, reacting to her obvious unease. 'You're welcome to join me for lunch.'

'Oh, I don't want to intrude,' she replied.

'It won't be an intrusion.'

Realizing there were no other options, she nodded and took a seat. Indy led the conversation, telling Belecamus about Conrad's history course, and the reason he'd lost his job. At first, Belecamus seemed indifferent, but as Conrad filled in details about the hanging heroes episode her interest peaked. She glanced several times at Indy, and asked a couple of pointed questions about the university's reaction and how he dealt with it.

When the waiter walked over, Indy and Belecamus both ordered fresh oysters and pommes frites, and Conrad ordered another cafe au lait.

'In Greece, there would have been no question about it,' Belecamus said when the waiter walked away.

'You would go to jail if you hung an effigy of any of our leaders. Weren't you concerned about the possible repercussions?'

'Not when it was happening. Only afterward.'

She shook her head. 'Then why did you do it?'

'I wanted to make a point.'

'But you also got a thrill from it, didn't you?'

He shrugged. 'I suppose.' He'd never really put it into words, but that was exactly how it had been for him.

She laughed. It was a full, throaty sound, delightful. 'You have a reckless streak in you. A bit of a rebel.'

She sat back in her chair. 'Indy.' The word seemed to roll off her tongue like music. 'I never heard such a name, but I like it. And you can call me Dorian.'

Her hand brushed his as she sat forward again, a quick, deliberate touch that he felt all the way to his toes, like a mild electrical shock. It wasn't just the touch itself, but the realization that Lady Ice wasn't quite as impenetrable as he had believed.

Conrad glanced inquisitively between the two of them, but didn't comment. Indy still hadn't said anything about the impending trip to Greece, and Conrad was undoubtedly puzzled about their relationship. He told him about her offer.

'Delphi. Sounds fascinating.' He nodded thoughtfully. 'So are you taking the professor up on it?'

'I haven't really decided.'

'Why not?' Belecamus asked.

'My field is linguistics, not archaeology. I'd be wasting a semester. I don't know. I'm not sure what I want to do.'

She averted her eyes and gazed toward the door as though she wished she weren't there anymore. 'You Ameri cans,' she said with a sigh. 'You're a colony here. Writers, artists, students. You're fortunate. You can live in a foreign country and be right at home with your own compatriots. And yet all you do—most of you—is complain. You're just an unhappy bunch, lost in a sea of culture.'

There was no rancor in her voice; she was just stating the facts as she saw them.

Indy started to disagree, but the waiter appeared with their meals. They ate in silence for a while, a silence that wasn't entirely comfortable. Finally, Belecamus popped an oyster in her mouth, and pointed her fork at Indy. 'You say you're interested in archaeology and have been since you were a boy. So why're you studying linguistics?'

'My father taught me languages early. Languages and myths. Some weeks he would only speak French to me, and other weeks it was Spanish or German. I was studying Latin an hour a day after school when I was nine. I knew the Greek myths by the time I was ten. He always said he was preparing me for a career as a scholar, a linguistics scholar.'

She sighed and shook her head. 'That was your father. What about you? What do you want to do?'

The way she said that bothered him, but only because it mirrored his own feelings. 'Something exciting. I guess I just don't like the idea of spending the rest of my life in libraries, poring over manuscripts of dead languages.'

'Then why don't you switch to archaeology?' Conrad asked. 'You'll get more variety.'

'I don't particularly want to be a student my whole life, either.'

Belecamus pushed her plate to the side. 'Look, Indy, if the tablet that has been discovered at Delphi is important, and I have the feeling it is, you'll be able to use it as the basis for your Ph.D. With your background, I'd say you can have your doctorate easily in two years. One year of intense study, then your thesis, and you'll be an archaeolo gist. If it doesn't work out, you fall back on linguistics.'

That last part didn't appeal to him. If he made a commitment to archaeology, he would stick with it. No falling back. 'What if the tablet isn't what you think?'

'Then you choose something else for your thesis,' she answered brusquely.

'Don't worry, Indy,' Conrad said, 'If you really want it, you'll find what you need.'

'All right, I'll do it.' There. Quick, Simple.

Belecamus smiled. 'Good. I thought you would. We're leaving for Athens tomorrow afternoon. Be at my office at one o'clock. Now I must go.' She held out a hand to Conrad. 'Nice meeting you, and good luck with your writing.'

A moment later, the door to the cafe closed behind her. Indy glanced at Conrad. 'So what do you think?'

'I think archaeology is something you'll enjoy, and you'll do very well at it.'

'What about Professor Belecamus?'

Conrad threaded and unthreaded his fingers. His reply was slow and measured. 'I don't know what it is about her, Indy, but I'd be careful. I guess my sense of her is that she is saying one thing, and thinking another.'

'You think I should turn down the offer?'

'I didn't say that. It's just that I sense there's more involved than she's telling.'

6

On the Rails

The train rumbled along, rolling through the open countryside of southern Italy. Dorian Belecamus gazed out the window toward the shadowy hills that loomed against the plum-colored horizon. The last of the light tipped them in gold, creating a kind of magic about them. But it wasn't the magic of Greece, she thought. Her homeland was a landscape of dramatic contrasts: bleached white houses that dotted the shores of a sea so blue it made her heart ache, mountains the color of ripened grapes, skies burned by the sun.

Soon, she thought. Her self-imposed exile was almost over. By morning they would arrive in Brindisi, where they would take a ship to the port of Piraeus. From there, they would go overland to Athens, and she would be home.

She turned away from the window, reached up, and switched on the reading light on her side of their private