Indiana Jones & the Peril at Delphi

must be taken care of. Immediately. We can't chance him interfering with our work.'

'He won't interfere. He's confined to a bed in his hotel room. I'm sure he won't be going anywhere until after the king has come and gone. Besides, you are sure to anger Belecamus if anything happens to him.'

'How can we be certain he stays in bed? I don't trust him. He doesn't understand what Delphi is about.'

'You worry too much, Panos. You know what the tablet in the crevice said. Nothing can stop the Return now. Not Jones, not anyone. It will happen as sure as the king is rich.'

Panos glowered at him. 'The tablet was confirmation of the blueprint. But we must still do what is necessary to fulfill it.'

Doumas emptied his glass, then set it on the table. 'You have to understand my position. I am a scientist, an archaeologist. I have a reputation.'

Panos laughed. 'What is your reputation, Stephanos? Caretaker of old stones. Stop wavering. Your rubble will still be there no matter what you do.'

'What do you want of me, Panos? I got Belecamus here. I went down that hole and interpreted the tablet.

I could have been killed. What more do you want?'

'You wanted to know about the Order of Pythia. You wanted to know everything. Now you must fulfill your responsibilities.'

'I'm not a killer. That's Grigoris's work.'

Panos bolted out of his chair, and grabbed Doumas by the collar. 'Don't talk that way about my son,' he growled between clenched teeth. 'Do you understand? I don't want to hear that.'

As he lowered himself back into the chair he saw the group of foreigners looking their way. He ignored them.

Doumas glared back at him. 'Don't ask me to kill Jones, or anyone. I won't do it. But I will tell you something that you don't know. Something valuable.'

Panos stared sullenly at him. 'What is it?'

Doumas leaned over the table. 'I know precisely when the vapors will rise. There's a pattern, and unless things change I can predict the time of the risings tomorrow, next month, and for years.'

Panos considered what he'd said. He was surprised that Doumas would know such a thing and made an effort to control his astonishment. 'Go ahead. Tell me.'

As Doumas spoke, Panos gazed over the archaeologist's shoulder at two uniformed men who had entered the taverna. They looked around, and took a table. The taller of the two looked familiar.

Panos concentrated on what Doumas was saying. 'That's good to know. Six minutes is the key.'

His gaze shifted to the other table again. Now he remembered where he'd seen the man. Belecamus had met him the morning he'd followed her from her house to the Roman Agora. From the way they'd acted he was sure they were close to each other. He remembered thinking that the officer was potential trouble, and now he knew he was right.

'We have another problem.' He tilted his head toward the table.

Doumas followed his glance. 'Military men. Probably related to the king's trip.'

Panos could tell by Doumas's expression that he knew something more. 'Who is he, Stephanos? I've seen the one with her.'

Doumas looked back again, as if he hadn't recognized the man. He leaned over the table again. 'Colonel Alexan der Mandraki. Belecamus has been seeing him off and on for years. Lovers.'

Panos frowned. 'What could she see in him? He's ugly.'

Doumas grinned. 'Power, of course. You should know that.'

A tight smile curled on Panos's lips as he sat back in his chair. A plan was taking form. 'We must turn him against Jones so that he does our work for us.'

Doumas glanced warily over this shoulder, making cer-

tain that Mandraki wasn't listening to them. 'That's a possibility.'

'Then, Belecamus will be angry with him, which will also be to our advantage.'

'But her allegiance is with Mandraki,' Doumas said. 'She won't turn against him.'

'Maybe not for long. But the shock of finding out who has killed her young lover-student will surely alienate her, at least temporarily, and all we need is a few hours.'

Doumas threaded his fingers, and cracked his knuckles. 'Two birds, one stone. You're clever, Panos. You should have been a politician.'

Panos looked over at the foreigners, who were getting up from their table. When the transformation was com plete he would be a politician of sorts, a power broker for the world's leaders who would come to him seeking access to Pythia, Oracle of Delphi.

'Let's not waste any more time, Stephanos.'

'All right, I'll go tell him about Jones.'

'No, I'll do it myself. You intellectuals have a hard time dealing with emotional matters. I want to make sure it gets done right. I want him angry so he acts.'

Panos pushed his chair away from the table, and moved away without another word.

Doumas watched as Panos leaned over Mandraki's table and said something to him. This should be interest ing, he thought, and refilled his glass. The colonel nod ded, and turned to the other man at the table.

The soldier abruptly stood, and walked over to the bar. Mandraki motioned Panos to sit down, and listened as the little man rested an elbow on the table and raised a hand to his mouth in a gesture of confidentiality.

Doumas looked away as two of the foreigners from the other table left the taverna. He knew exactly what Panos thought about him. To rugged, earthy people like the

stonemason, excessive weight was a sign of weakness. Panos saw him as a bumbling, overeducated guardian of the ruins. But that was fine. Just what he wanted.

He knew that Panos envisioned himself as the new high priest of the oracle, but he was a fool to think that Dorian Belecamus would let him manipulate her. Belecamus had her own agenda. Even if the vapors affected her as Panos said, she would not always be under their influence.

Panos didn't know Belecamus; he only knew of her. He didn't know the stories about her, which anyone in the archaeology faculties could tell him. Even the Crazy One, who supposedly knew so much, didn't know anything of her private life. Doumas knew Belecamus; he knew the stories, and knew they were true.

Mandraki's face darkened and clouded over. The corners of his lips turned down. He rubbed his chin and nodded, then with a flick of his hand dismissed Panos as if he were chasing away a fly. Panos literally leaped to his feet, and knocked over his chair.

The colonel sneered and pointed to the door; Doumas clearly heard Mandraki's angry voice. 'Get out of my sight, malaka.'

Panos quickly retreated. The colonel's companion moved back to the table and picked up the fallen chair.

Mandraki waved a hand, as if to say it was nothing, then motioned for the soldier to sit down. 'Malaka,'

Mandraki repeated loudly.

Doumas laughed to himself. It felt good to see the leader of the Order of Pythia, who thought so much of himself and so little of him, called an asshole and dismissed like a servant who performed his duties poorly.

If Belecamus was a normal woman, she would act as Panos expected. She would shun her Colonel Alex if he killed Jones. But to Belecamus, Jones was already a dead man. He was sure of it.

Now everything was in his hands, Doumas thought. The colonel would never let Panos near Belecamus long enough for him to lead her to the crevice and if Panos failed, the blueprint would no longer be viable. The opportunity would be missed. Panos, his lifework destroyed, would go back to Athens and his masonry work, and Dorian Belecamus, the failed Pythia, would return to Paris and her teaching.

But that wouldn't be the end of it. After all, the message he'd uncovered on the tablet before Belecamus arrived had convinced him that Panos was on the right track. However, the inscription clearly had left open the matter of who would assume the duties of the new Pythia. Even the Crazy One's old prophecy, which had