Indiana Jones & the Peril at Delphi

He spun around.

At first he didn't see anything. Then he glimpsed a shadow, an arm upraised, a blade stabbing the air, rushing toward him. He blocked the blow with his forearm, grabbed the man by the wrist and elbow and smashed his arm against his knee. The knife flew from his hand into the darkness.

The attacker tried to escape, but Indy snagged his collar, and pulled him back. Then he saw who it was.

'You. You bastard.'

Indy landed a solid punch to Grigoris's jaw and sent him reeling. He crashed against a tree trunk, and slumped to the ground. He walked over to him and crouched. Grigoris's hand slithered along the ground toward the knife, serpen tine, silent. Just as he reached it, Indy snapped it up.

He held the blade beneath the man's chin. 'I don't like

you very much. You make a sound, I'll remove your tonsils. Got that?'

He checked the man's pockets and found a handker chief. He gagged him with it. 'That was good of you.

Didn't have to use my own. Now unlace your boots.'

Grigoris stared at him until Indy pressed the point of the knife against his neck. 'Do it.' When he was done, Indy took the laces from him and knotted them together. Then he bound Grigoris's wrists behind his back and around a tree. It wouldn't hold him long, but it should slow him down. He'd think twice about trying anything again. Or so Indy hoped.

He stood up. 'If I see you again tonight, I'm going to throw you off the mountain. Got that?'

Indy made his way down to the ledge, and then to the entrance of the cave. The fire was burning low.

Shannon and Conrad was still lying on the floor where he'd seen them earlier. Nearby sat a guard.

One guard. Where the hell was the other one?

A branch creaked overhead. He looked up, and as he did the other guard dropped to the ledge. He swung the butt of his rifle at Indy's head. Indy ducked, then drove his head into the soldier's gut. The two of them barreled into the mouth of the cave as Indy wrestled for the rifle. Then suddenly he felt cold metal jammed behind his ear. It was the other guard.

'Don't move, malaka, or you're dead.'

18

Under Guard

The approach of dawn was already washing away the dark texture of the night sky as they were marched along the ledge. Shannon, all arms and legs and wild red hair and goatee, lurched and bobbed as he followed one of the guards. Indy was behind him, then came Conrad, his wool sport coat rumpled and soiled, his face and beard gritty from the damp earth of the cave. Even though Indy had been lying next to them for several hours, it was the first time he'd actually seen them. All three had been gagged and blindfolded.

'Siga, siga,' ordered the other guard from behind them, over and over. 'Siga, siga.' Keep moving, but not too fast.

Indy was groggy from lack of sleep; his body felt battered. But he knew that they weren't going to be killed. Not yet, at least. Fortunately, the guards hadn't realized that Indy could understand them, and they'd talked freely while he'd listened. The one at the rear, who had a slightly higher rank than his companion, had said they must wait for Mandraki to return, as he'd ordered. The other guard, however, the one who had jumped him, was convinced that Indy was someone important and that he should take him immediately to Mandraki. Then the first man said that he should be the one to take Jones because of his rank. They had argued off and on for hours, and had finally agreed that if Mandraki had not returned by dawn, they would both take all three captives to the stables and from there the guard with the higher rank would get the colonel.

When they reached the end of the ledge, Indy finally had a chance to exchange looks with Shannon and Conrad. He couldn't tell what they were thinking, but he saw fear in both men's eyes. He didn't blame them.

He probably had the same look in his own eyes.

As they descended the path to the valley, the sky beyond the mountain pass to the east slowly turned from sullen gray to a deep rose. Below them, the ruins were still in shadow, and blanketed by fog. All Indy could see of the temple were the pillars, and they looked ghostly, as if they would vanish with the fog. If the vapors were rising now, they would be indistinguishable from the fog. Maybe that was why Dorian wanted the schedule. But if she were Pythia, what did that have to do with what was happening now?

Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

By the time they were near the ruins, Indy's body didn't seem to know whether it should be hot or cold.

His forehead was damp with perspiration and his fingers were numb from the cold. They emerged from the path, headed past the stadium, then went around the rear of the crum bling stone theater. The fog was lifting and Indy hoped someone would see them. Certainly, three men bound and gagged would be an unusual sight, and the word would go out. Someone surely would investigate, especially today, the day the king was expected to visit the ruins.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Indy saw a shadowy figure moving through the woods along the path between the stables and the ruins. Please, be someone with the king, he pleaded silently. Then he saw it was a woman. It was Dorian, and his hopes plummeted. As she walked up to the, she quickly assessed the situation. 'Good work. We were looking for him,' she said, nodding toward Indy as if he were a sheep or cow that had strayed out of its fence.

When the guards told her where they were planning to take them, she shook her head. 'There're too many people who might see them. Take them over there to the hut, and remove their gags. Then get them some food.'

She smiled at Indy. 'We don't want you to starve before you see the king.' She looked him over and shook her head. 'We'll have to get you some fresh clothes, too, and you must try to get some rest.'

She was crazy, she had to be, he thought as they were rushed to the thatched hut. Why the hell would she still want him to see the king? If he hadn't inhaled the vapors himself, he'd be ready to believe that they'd warped her thinking.

Outside the hut, the guards untied their gags, and warned them with gestures not to talk. One after the other they were shoved through the doorway. The light was dim inside, but they could still see each other.

No one said a word; not for a minute or two. Indy rubbed his jaw, and looked around. The table and chairs had been removed, but otherwise the hut was the same as when he'd last seen it. He lowered himself to the floor and leaned his back against the wall. Underneath the cloth that covered the doorway, he could see the guard's black boots.

Conrad slumped down next to him. 'I'd say good to see you, Indy, but under the circumstances...'

Shannon paced across the hut. 'I don't like this. In fact, I hate it. I mean I'm definitely out of my environment. I can't go on like this. I want to play my cornet. I want to hear some jazz, any jazz, even counterfeit jazz, and I want a drink, even that god-awful pine sap shit they drink here. Anything.'

'Jack, shut up,' Indy hissed. 'Or they'll gag us again.'

'No one's ever going to gag me again. We've got to get out of here.'

'We will get out, Shannon. We'll figure a way,' Conrad said. 'But Indy's right, keep it down.'

Indy looked between the two men. 'One of you mind telling me what the hell you're doing here?'

Neither spoke for a moment. 'Come on, you're not wearing gags,' he whispered. 'And don't tell me you just decided to go off on a Greek vacation together. Hell, I didn't think you two even knew each other.'

The two guards were arguing, probably about who was going to get the food for them. Conrad took advantage of the distraction. 'Let me start by going back to that day at Le Dome when you introduced me to Belecamus. After you both left the restaurant, I was approached by an English gentleman named Gerald Farnsworth, who had a lot of disturbing things to say about Belecamus. I got worried and told him that you were leaving for Greece with her the following day, but that I didn't know where you lived or how to contact you. He said he would catch the train, and tell you himself.'

Farnsworth promised to send him a telegraph in a day or two, he continued. When he didn't hear from him, he contacted the police, and found out that his body had been found on a railroad bed. He'd been stabbed with a pointed object, like an ice pick.

Indy felt a knot in his stomach as he realized that the man who had followed Dorian from the dining car of