by Max McCoy
Inside a compound surrounded by a palisade of rough-hewn poles, in a little yellow cottage with a green roof, they were ushered into the presence of the Living God by a pair of monks in flowing red robes with sky-blue cuffs.
Indy stood stiffly at attention with his fedora in his hands while Granger slouched behind them with his hands in his pockets. Indy bowed, pulling Joan down with him, while under his breath he told Granger to show a little respect.
"My word," Granger said as he doffed his hat and bowed.
"We're pleased to meet you," Joan stammered.
The Lama was a middle-aged man with milky-blue eyes and a shaven head. He sat on a pillow cross-legged and he wore a simple saffron robe over black trousers.
"Come closer," the Lama said. "My eyes are failing me. The doctors say I will be completely blind by spring."
"I'm sorry," Joan said as they moved forward. The monks in the red robes brought a trio of pillows. Indy told Granger to tuck in his feet as they sat down.
"Don't be, my dear," the Lama said. "I have seen enough of the suffering of this world, while the beauty of it will never fade from my mind's eye. I have seen you coming for several weeks now, and such a long journey you have made! Across the sea and over the land."
"You have seen us?" Joan asked.
"In my dreams," the Lama said. "I have also seen packs of wild dogs, and bandits, and much hardship ahead."
"What else can you tell us?" Joan said.
"What can one tell from dreams?" the Lama asked. "That you are on a journey not of the body but of the soul is obvious, my dear. You are seeking that which has been lost for a very long time."
"My father," she said.
"More than your father," the Lama said. "You search for the ancient of ancients, the world as it was before it was corrupted by knowledge. The Garden of Eden."
"Yes, you are right," Joan said quickly. Then: "Will I find it?"
"Who am I to say?" he asked. "It is up to you. I only see into my own dreams, not into your heart."
"Excuse me," Indy said as he pulled a scrap of orange cloth from his shirt pocket, "but are you sure that your spies didn't tell you we were coming? Surely you sent the monks after us in New York."
The Lama inspected the scrap of cloth.
"It means nothing to me," the Lama said. "You act as if perhaps it should. But this particular piece of cloth is from one of our remote monasteries, deep in the Gobi."
"You can tell that just by looking?" Granger asked.
"No, by touch," the Lama replied. "The weave is unmistakable. Tell me more about these monks that you say were after you. What did they want?"
"They took the horn," Indy said.
"Ah, a horn." The Lama sighed. "Now we are getting somewhere. Can you describe this horn for me? No, wait. Let me show you something and you tell me if it resembles the thing that was taken from you."
He spoke to the monks, and presently one of them brought him a brightly colored reliquary. The Lama said a prayer, then opened the top of the wooden box and removed a horn that was a smaller version of the one that had been taken at the Museum of Natural History.
"Does this look familiar?" he asked.
"Yes," Indy said, inspecting the horn. "But it is not the same one that was taken from us. This is smaller. It's also fossilized."
"It has been handed down from generation to generation and is unimaginably old," the Lama said, replacing it in the box. "Do you know what it is?"
"Do you?" Indy asked.
"Of course," the Lama said. "It is the horn of the fabled allergorhai-horhai, the sacred stone beast of the desert. Many say the horhai is just a myth, but here we have a bit of tangible evidence, a reminder of the unfathomable cycles of the world. You are familiar with this beast?"
Indy said that he was.
"It is said that it still lives in the Gobi."
"I have heard as much."
"Is the beast the object of your search?"
"We are here to find Professor Angus Starbuck, who is lost somewhere in the Gobi. Sister Joan here is Starbuck's daughter."
"But you also seek the beast. Otherwise you would not have shown me this scrap of cloth," the Lama said. "I have heard of your Professor Starbuck. He is well-known in the monasteries across the desert, and I will help you in your search for him if I can. As I recall, he was last seen in the region of Gurbun Saikhan."
"I know the place," Granger said quickly. "It is near what is called the Flaming Cliffs, where the Andrews expedition found many excellent fossils."
"Gurbun Saikhan," Indy repeated. "The Three Good Ones."
"It was named for you three ages ago," the Lama stated.
Granger snorted.
"Preposterous," he said. "Probably some poor nomad shot three antelope at the spot."
"Perhaps it would be helpful if you replaced your hat on top of your head," the Lama suggested. "Your hearing—or at least your listening—seems to be somewhat impaired."
Indy laughed.
"Do you know anything else of my father?" Joan asked.
The Lama shook his head. "He is rather a mysterious figure, and whatever he finds during the long treks in the desert he keeps to himself.
"Dr. Jones," the Lama continued. "I wish you the best in your attempt to locate Professor Starbuck. But there is something I must now ask of you."
"I will do whatever I can," Indy said.
"If you should happen to find the horhai in your search for Professor Starbuck, you must agree to keep it safe from harm. Can you do that?"
Indy paused.
"The horhai is a mythical beast," he said.
"The most important truths are often found in myth."
"But what would you have me do to protect it?"
"The answer to that is in your soul," the Lama said. "When the time comes, you will have to search honestly inside yourself for the answer. That is often the most difficult thing for a man of action to do. Can you do that, Dr. Jones?"
"Yes," Indy replied.
"Good news," Badmonjohni said as the trio filed into the foreign office at the Russian consulate. "I have worked day and night and have finally obtained the necessary permits for your expedition."
"Excellent," Granger said.
Badmonjohni placed the papers on the desktop. Included was each of their passports, and they had been stamped with the appropriate visas.
"There are just one or two minor details," the minister said. "You must, of course, surrender all of your photographic and wireless equipment. The machine gun is out of the question, of course. And I must have seven hundred more dollars."
"What?" Granger said. "Are you trying to wipe us out?"
"Goodwill must be spread around in order to produce the desired result." Badmonjohni shrugged. "The amount is not negotiable."
Indy counted out the gold and piled it on the desk as Granger swept up the permits.
"There is one last requirement," the minister said. "Absolutely nothing can leave the country without first being inspected and approved by the People's Republic of Mongolia. All of your specimens must be brought back here to Ulan Bator for examination."
Granger looked at Indy.
"No problem," Indy said. "We'll have to come back this way to pick up Sister Joan anyway."
"You can't expect to leave me here in this godforsaken place," Joan pleaded as they left the consulate. "Where am I going to stay? In the women's prison?"
"Well, you are familiar with it," Granger observed.
"The Lama has taken a liking to you," Indy said. "He has invited you to stay at a cottage on his compound until we return, and I suggest you take him up on the offer. It is the safest place for you here."
"I won't," she said.
"Look, Sister," Indy said. "We had a deal, remember? You were to go as far as Urga, and that was all."
"You had a deal," she stammered. "I didn't say a damn thing. You just assumed that I agreed to it."
"The cursing nun," Granger said. "How proud your
order must be of you."
"You can go straight to—"
"I get the idea," Granger interrupted. "Now listen to me. Are we going to have to tie you up and deliver you to the compound, or are you going to act sensibly for once? I swear, I'll tell the monks that you're crazy and that you have to be locked in your room for your own good if I have to."
Joan was silent.
"We're doing you a favor," Granger continued. "Do you want to meet those wild dogs for real instead of just in your nightmares?"
"All right," Joan agreed. "You can take me to the compound. But you'd better leave me enough money to take care of myself until you get back."
As soon as the trucks pulled out of sight of the compound, Joan gathered up her things and set out on foot for Urga's business district, the reassuring weight of ten gold pieces swinging in the pocket of her habit.
6
Wild Dogs
With two automobiles and thirty camels strung out in a long line over the sculpted dunes, the expedition at last penetrated the Gobi.
Granger's truck, minus the machine gun, was in the lead. An American flag fluttered over the cab, attached by a long staff to the bed of the truck. Although the sight of the Stars and Stripes always caused a patriotic murmur in Indy's heart, the flag was there for a practical reason as well: so the truck could be easily located as it dipped below the dunes while Granger scouted the best route for the caravan.
Indy's truck flew a blue pennant emblazoned with the logo of the American Museum of Natural History—the skeleton of a man attempting to control the skeleton of a rearing horse. The inspiration for the design came from one of the museum's most popular exhibits, but Indy liked the piratical quality of the thing—in the remote Gobi, where the Mongols revered horses and were frightened of the dead, it spoke unintended volumes.
The going was slow, and Granger constantly checked their progress against his compass and his maps. When they stopped for the evening he would use his sextant and astronomical schedules to fix their exact position, then determine the altitude with a barometer and make a note of it in his log. The maps that were available of the area were as devoid of detail as maps of the open sea.
Occasionally the desert would yield to hardpan covered with stunted trees that resembled tamarisk, but they passed no watering holes. Animal life was scarce and human habitation was nonexistent; in the week since they had left Urga, they had not met another human being—except for frequent sightings of a Buriat soldier on horseback who had been dispatched by the foreign minister to spy on the expedition. When the soldier's horse died of exhaustion, they invited the incredulous man to join the expedition but told him he would have to do his share of the work for food and water rations. The grateful soldier quickly agreed.
Sometimes they would encounter a bleached skeleton sitting next to a weathered food bowl, near the telltale circle of stones where a Mongol yurt—a squat conical-shaped tent—had once stood. The Mongol practice was to pull up stakes and abandon those who were dead or dying to unmerciful nature. Although Granger found it shocking, Indy could see the stark necessity of the practice; the Plains Indians of North America were known to have done something similar during hard winters.
During the days it was hot enough that Indy was forced to shed his leather jacket, but at nights the temperature plunged to freezing or below. Meryn and the other drivers seemed to accept these extremes without hardship, but Indy found that the cycle sapped his strength. He was used to harsh conditions, but usually for only a day or two, and then it was back to base camp for a hot shower. Out here, there was no water to spare.
Granger, however, was finally in his element. He hummed over morning coffee and made detailed notes in his log by the light of a Coleman lantern until well into the night.
His mood deteriorated on the morning of the seventh day when Joan suddenly rode into camp on a piebald horse that was worked into a dangerous lather. She had abandoned her habit for a purple Chinese tunic, jeans, and boots, and on her hip was an old-fashioned single-action revolver. A flop hat was tied to her head with a rag. Her lips were parched and she was badly sunburned.
"Surprised to see me?" she croaked.
Then she fell from the saddle into Indy's arms, and the horse promptly collapsed and died.
"What were you thinking?" Indy asked as he soaked a rag in water from the canteen and placed it on Joan's forehead. He had placed her in his tent so she would be out of the sun. "Didn't you believe us when we told you how unforgiving the desert is?"
"I believed you," she croaked, "but I also believed I could catch up with you in just a day or two. Something inside me was telling me that I had to be on this journey, that you couldn't find my father without me. I didn't intend to kill that horse, honestly I didn't."
"You're lucky he made it all the way, Sister," Indy said. "If he had given up the ghost just a few hundred yards earlier, we would never have found you."
"How is she?" Granger asked through the tent flap.
"Baked, but not done. Frozen, but not spoiled. She'll live."
"Good," Granger replied. "Pardon me, Jones, but could I have a word with you out here?"
"You rest," Indy told Joan. "I'm leaving the canteen here, but don't drink too much water at one time or you'll cramp up. Okay?"
"Thanks." Joan paused. "And... I'm sorry."
"I'm just glad you're alive," Indy said. "You must have one helluva lucky star up there."
He left the tent with Loki trotting behind. He joined Granger, who was standing far enough away so that Joan couldn't overhear. His hands were behind his back and he was puffing furiously on his pipe.
"Can she travel?" he asked.
"Tomorrow, maybe," Indy said, scratching Loki's head. "But I'm afraid we're stuck here for at least a day."
"Blast that woman," Granger sputtered. "I thought nuns were supposed to act, well, like nuns. They're supposed to stay put when you tell them to."
"Like a well-trained horse?"
"You know what I mean," Granger snapped. "She has endangered the entire expedition. The drivers are predicting disaster because of the presence of a foreign woman, and I can't say I blame them. We have to maintain a certain speed as we cross this wasteland. We are forty miles from the nearest well, and there is no guarantee that it won't be dry."
"Maybe we should leave her behind with a little bowl of food."
Granger was silent.
"I'm beginning to come around to her view of things," Indy said. "Anybody who is that desperate to find her father deserves to come along on the search. If she were a man we wouldn't think twice about it, would we?"
"Yes, but she's not a man. That's exactly the point."
"What, because she's a woman she can't possibly endure the privations we'll face? Do you know what she did when she ran out of water back there, Walter? She drank her own sweat. Said she read an article in National Geographic about the bedouins doing it. How many men do you think would have the presence of mind to do that?"
Granger lapsed again into silence.
"Let's talk to Meryn," Indy suggested. "Have him explain the situation to the drivers. Tell them that she's a holy woman—which isn't a lie, now, is it?—and that we need her to find Professor Starbuck. Tell them to make camp, we'll be staying here for a day or two. And tell them if they don't like it, they can march off in any direction they please."
On the morning of the second day the journey resumed, with Joan riding in the truck with Indy. None of the camel drivers had left, but Granger continued to sulk. Meryn had complimented Joan on her courage, and made an extravagant ceremony out of presenting her with a good-luck tassel made from the claw of a leopard to wear from her belt. In return, she gave him her rosary beads.
"Sai!" Meryn had exclaimed, and held his thumb in the air to show his approval before tacking the rosary to the butt of his rifle.
"Does that mean you've given up your vows?" Indy asked.
Joan did not answer.
They reached the well
in the afternoon.
It wasn't much of a well by Western standards, just a pile of rocks around a lopsided hole, but the tracks of men and animals surrounding the little oasis attested to its importance. Indy dropped a bucket over the side and was relieved when he heard a splash as it hit water.
"Thank the gods," Granger breathed. "Now, we must be careful with our use of water. This well is fed by a little underground spring that seeps, instead of flows, so we must be careful not to exhaust it. If we do, we may be sentencing the next poor devil that comes this way to death by dehydration."
Granger prescribed the order in which things would be done: the animals would be watered first, then the drivers could drink and fill their water bags, then the radiators of the trucks were to be topped off. Only then would Granger allow Indy to erect a makeshift shower stall from a couple of squares of canvas and a rope stretched between the beds of the trucks. He declared a strict ration for each bather—there would be a common bucket of water to soap with, and one full bucket for each individual to rinse. The Mongols, of course, thought this entire ritual was insane.
Indy was the last of the trio to shower, and he used his water sparingly. He brushed his teeth and shaved first, then lathered up and poured the bucket of water slowly over his head and body. When he was done he felt better than he had in weeks.
"That was wonderful," he said to no one in particular as he emerged from behind the canvas, cinching on his gun belt. It was a warm afternoon, and he had left his shirt unbuttoned in order to feel the breeze on his skin.
"No kidding," Joan said.
Indy jumped.
She was sitting on the bed of the truck, brushing her long brown hair. A towel was wrapped tightly around her torso, but her arms and legs were bare, and despite the towel's attempt at modesty, it made her figure even more pronounced. Indy paused to speak to her, but was suddenly bereft of words.
The others were far on the other side of the truck.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
