'How are we going to get it?' Shannon asked, playing the role of interested student.
'You and the professor are going to lower your friend on a rope. He's going to get a chance to improve his archaeo logical skills, and recover one of the most valuable artifacts of all time.'
She turned to Indy. 'Do you agree to do it?' As if he had a choice, he thought. 'I don't see any rope.'
'You're going to get it. Go to the workshop. You'll find a rope and my excavating tools on the table. And hurry.' Then her voice toughened. 'But if you're not back in fifteen minutes, your friends will be joining the others. Do you understand?'
'You don't have to threaten me, Dorian.'
She smiled and her features softened. 'I like you, Indy. I'm sorry I have to do it this way. But I have no choice. Without the gun, I couldn't count on your cooperation.'
Indy quickly descended the mound, passing the bodies of Panos, Grigoris, and Mandraki. He rushed across the ruins to the wooded trail that led to the workshop. He had to tell someone what had happened, but he didn't have time to go to the village or anywhere else. As it was, he had to hurry in order to retrieve the equipment and get back in time.
He found the same rope that had been used to pull him from the hole neatly coiled on the table. Next to it was Dorian's knapsack and her excavating tools. From the way they were laid out, he wondered if she had planned the whole thing. If that were the case, she must also have planned to kill Mandraki. The woman was truly the Ice Queen, after all—a cold-blooded, cold-hearted killer.
He glanced around the workshop. Everything else looked the same as when he'd last seen it. He walked over to Dorian's locker, and found the schedule of risings still taped to the back wall. The next one was due at 3:49 p.m. There should be plenty of time to get the Omphalos, or whatever it was, out of the hole. But the vapors were more of an annoyance than anything else to Indy. He'd breathed the so-called mephitic gases a couple of times now and had never experienced anything unusual. It was like walking in fog, nothing more.
The king had wanted to believe so badly in their healing properties that the pain in his hip probably did subside for awhile. Indy would be surprised if the pain wasn't back. So why was Dorian's reaction to the vapors so dramatically different from his own and everyone else's? What made her Pythia, but not anyone else?
He was about to close the locker door when he spotted something familiar on the top shelf. He reached up and grabbed his whip. Maybe she considered it a memento from another graduate-student lover. But this graduate student had a big advantage. He knew about the others, and of their demise.
He hitched the whip on his belt and as he left the workshop, he slung the pack over one shoulder and the rope over the other. He'd taken only a step out the door when he saw two men approaching on horseback. He was in luck. He'd tell them to get help. As they moved closer, though, his hope faded as rapidly as light at the end of the day. Soldiers.
He lowered his head, pulled his hat down low, and walked quickly away. But just as he reached the beginning of the trail to the ruins one of the men called out to him. 'You there. Have you seen Colonel Mandraki?'
He shook his head, and kept walking.
'Let's check the ruins,' the soldier said, and Indy recognized his voice. The same bastard who had jumped him outside the cave.
'Hey, wait a minute. Isn't that the guy we were guarding?' the other said.
Indy kept moving, hoping the soldiers would start an other argument. As the trail curved and he moved out of sight, he broke into a run. But he'd gone only a dozen yards before he heard the thunder of horses behind him.
He leaped off the trail, dropped the rope and knapsack and unhitched his whip. As the first rider neared him, he snapped it with a swift, smooth swing. The whip uncoiled in an elliptical arc, and snared the soldier by the neck. With a quick jerk, he yanked him to the ground. The second horse reared to avoid the soldier in its path, and threw its rider.
Indy snatched up a rifle that had fallen at his feet, and
aimed it at the soldiers. 'On your feet. Get against that tree.' They did as he said, but as he leaned over to pick up the coil of rope, one of the men lunged at him. Indy swung the butt of the rifle around and cracked it against the side of his head. The soldier took two stuttering steps, tottered, then dropped to his knees, and fell over.
The other soldier, meanwhile, slipped a hand into his boot and pulled a knife. With a smooth motion, he hurled it from ankle level. Indy ducked and the knife stuck into the trunk of a tree barely an inch from his head. He glanced at the blade, then back at the soldier. The man stared at him, uncertain what to do. Then, deciding that retreat was the best idea, he turned and ran.
But Indy was ready for him. He'd gone only a couple of steps before the whip unfurled and caught him around the ankles. He reeled him in like a fish, but his 'catch' turned on him. He leaped up, threw a punch that glanced off Indy's shoulder. Indy landed one of his own solidly against the man's jaw. The soldier fell backwards, struck his head against a tree trunk, and was out cold.
Indy found a length of rope in the saddlebag of one of the horses. He tied the rope around the chest of one of the soldiers, looped it over a thick branch, then pulled the man to his feet as he tied the other end around his partner. When he was finished both men were seated back to back, and held up by the rope and branch. 'I'd stick around and chat, fellows, but I'm short on time.'
With that he hooked his whip back on his belt, grabbed the knapsack, rope, and rifle, and mounted one of the horses. But he was loaded down with too much gear, and tumbled out of the saddle. He glared at the groggy soldiers as he dusted himself off.
'Don't say a word.'
This time he slipped the rope and knapsack in a saddle bag. He mounted the horse again, and galloped off. Not much time left, and he didn't want to test Dorian. But now things were going to be different. He was armed and all he had to do was catch her off guard.
He reined in the horse as he reached the outskirts of the ruins. The fog had lifted, but the columns of the temple obscured the view of the mound, and he couldn't see any of them. He dismounted, grabbed the gear, and walked as fast as he could toward the temple, holding the rifle parallel with his legs. As the mound came into view, he stopped short. No one was on it or anywhere nearby. The temple looked empty. And the bodies were gone.
'What the hell.'
He wasn't sure what to do. Check the hut. He hurried over to it, and stopped outside the door. On the far side of it were two horses. He heard voices coming from inside.
'You think these bone diggers do it in here on the floor, Brent?'
'Mm. Probably with the bones.'
'I don't believe it,' Indy muttered. He threw open the cloth door. 'What are you two doing here?'
'Indy! Hiya, kiddo.' Madelaine was wearing riding pants, high boots, and a felt hat with a pheasant feather.
'Jonesy, look at you.' Brent stepped out of the hut after her and stroked his thin mustache. 'All decked out for archaeology—rope, knapsack, even a rifle, and dirty, too. Real authentic.'
'Can you keep it down?' Indy glanced toward the mound, but nothing had changed. No one was in sight.
'We're leaving for Athens this morning, and decided to ride out and say good-bye,' Madelaine said in her squeaky voice. 'The king's left, you know, so it's getting boring.'
'Boring is not the word for it,' Brent chimed in, adjusting the kerchief he wore with his safari outfit.
'Listen, did you see anyone else here?'
'Not a soul,' Madelaine said. 'Didn't think we'd see you, either. So what exciting things have you been doing? Haven't seen you since the royal reception.'
'Nothing much,' Indy said dryly.
'Where's Shannon? Haven't seen him since we got here.'
'He's around.'
He had to do something. He needed them to get help, but they'd probably fetch soldiers, and he doubted he could trust any of them. He jammed a hand in his jacket pocket and felt a head of garlic, and suddenly an idea occurred to him.
'Listen, are you going back to the village before you leave?'
'We're not riding horses to Athens,' Brent said. 'You can be sure of that.'
