Gale walked with Indy and Tarkiz down long corridors through just a small part of the museum to a private area several stories below ground level. Her eyes moved constantly. "This is incredible," she said with unabashed awe at the exhibits about them. "I could stay in the Egyptian archives for a month!"
"They have a worldwide exchange program," Indy acknowledged. "They trade off with institutions from just about everywhere. And it helps that this museum, or its foundation, is sponsored by some very wealthy people. There's a lot about this country that needs improvement, just like anywhere else in the world, but this place," he spread wide his arms as if to encompass the magnificient structure, "well, it's one of the finest statements ever made about people trying to understand his world."
Jocko Kilarney, leading the way, turned to Indy. "Professor, I've never heard it said better. In fact, you've done field research for the Foundation, haven't you?"
"I have the idea you already know every step I've taken for the Foundation," Indy said wryly.
Jocko shrugged. "I meant the compliment, sir, most sincerely."
"You're a man of many different faces, Jocko," Gale told him.
Jocko replied with a smile and a brief bow. "We will take the elevator at the end of this hallway," he said.
They stopped by elevator doors with a large red sign that said FREIGHT ONLY, NO PASSENGERS.
"I guess we come under the heading of freight," Indy noted.
"Consider yourself valuable cargo," Jocko said lightly. The doors opened, and they were soon on their way to a third-level subbasement. They emerged from a sloping corridor to a surprisingly large domed area. Gale stopped short, looking about her with surprise and wonder.
They seemed to be in the middle of a northern forest, trees looming about them, rocks, slopes and even a brook gurgling unseen within the heavy growth. Gale froze as a tree branch moved aside and a huge brown bear rose to its feet and roared. Immediately Tarkiz shoved her aside, placing himself between her and the bear. His automatic, pitiful as it was against the enormous animal bulk, was in his hand. Then another bear emerged through bushes, this one on all fours. Suddenly it reared high: the deadly Kodiak, largest bear in the world.
"Put away the gun," Indy told Tarkiz.
"But—"
"It's a diorama," Indy told him.
"It is big damned bear!" Tarkiz shouted.
"Ah, but this bear, and all the others," Jocko broke in, "are very dead."
"Dead bears do not walk and roar," Tarkiz grated.
"They're mechanical inside," Indy said to Tarkiz, gently pushing down his arm and the weapon. "Apparently this is where they set up the dioramas—that's a duplicate of the real world—before they move the display upstairs for the public."
"You mean," Tarkiz said, wide-eyed, "these are like big toys?"
"Sure," Jocko told him. "Electricity runs their mechanical systems." He laughed. "Like a player piano."
Indy wanted as little as possible to do with meetings. He felt stifled, hemmed in. Best to get this one over with as quickly as possible. "Jocko, let's keep it moving."
"Yes, sir." Jocko led them down another corridor and through a set of double doors, where a group of people watched their entrance. Filipo Castilano rose from a table to greet them. Gale took note that Indy obviously knew this man well. Her eyes swept the group; she recognized Yoshiro Matsuda from the gathering in Ohio. Rashid Quahirah had been known to her from Egypt, long before the Ohio meeting. She turned to Indy, and saw him studying a striking woman at the table's far end. At the same time she realized Indy was working the concealed wire-lead camera trigger; the Leica was clicking away as Indy turned his body to capture everyone present on film. He stepped aside to let Gale pass him, and from the corner of her eye she saw the deft movement as he replaced the leather cover to the camera.
Indy locked his gaze with that of the woman. Castilano introduced her. "It is my pleasure," he told Indy. "This is Madame Marcia Mason."
Indy greeted her with a murmured, "My pleasure, Madame," and in return he received a nod and a study of himself from the woman. She had a powerful presence. Indy could almost feel her strength, yet he judged her name to be a false identity. He took in her severe yet striking features and dark hair. She was elegant in dress and presentation, and held herself with a confidence that came only with an athletic, hard-muscled background. Intelligent, tough, and accustomed to giving orders. Castilano had introduced her as from Denmark. That was so obviously untrue; my money is on Romania or Russia, Indy figured. And a double identity in this closed circle doesn't fit. I'll have to watch this one carefully.
Indy took his seat, Gale and Tarkiz arraying their chairs behind him. Castilano spoke to the group. "May we get right to the matter at hand?" Murmurs of agreement met his offer, and he looked directly at Indy.
"We know about last night," Castilano said.
Word travels fast, thought Indy, but his face showed no idea of what he was thinking. He'd already made his decision to play this scene as easily and as quickly as he could. He shrugged. "It wasn't the first time," he said in reply.
Ah, that struck a chord. Marcia Mason had leaned forward, an easy movement that brought her the attention of the others. "Perhaps you can tell us why such things are happening to you, Professor Jones. I, for one, fail to understand."
"I'm a thorn in the side of the people we're trying to identify and to locate, Miss Mason. They have the idea that if they dispose of me, well, then they can continue their game unhindered."
"Is your presence so important to them?" the woman came back smoothly. It was as much a put-down as a question.
Filipo Castilano glanced at Merlyn Franck, the real power behind the museum. Castilano spoke quickly to head off what could become an unpleasant exchange between Indy and the woman.
"Mr. Franck, do you have any conclusions on this matter? Any further news as to what we're up against?"
Merlyn Franck didn't smile, which told Indy that he was in at least partial agreement with Marcia Mason. "I confess," he said slowly, "that some people are of the belief that Professor Jones has created a furor about himself in order to give him carte blanche in his, well, his investigative process."
"Doctor Franck, you're mincing words. If there's a criticism of what I'm doing, or how I'm doing it, just come right out with it."
Franck nodded, sighing with some inner regret. He and Indy had worked on projects long before this meeting and he wanted to maintain the excellent relationship between them. Yet, now he felt he had no choice but to be blunt. "We have been told, Professor Jones, that the incidents of personal attacks against you might never have taken place. That you have told us these stories for some reason which, I confess, I myself can't fathom."
Indy resisted a sharp answer. Franck meant well; that was what counted. He was simply in an unpleasant position.
"Sir, I can't be responsible for what people tell you. I don't even care to know who they are, but I will say that whatever you heard it wasn't from those men on the train. The old saying still fits: Dead men tell no tales."
Franck sighed again. "Professor Jones, there are members of our group who have difficulty with this 'evil empire' we've been told about. The consortium supporting your, ah, activities, now has grave doubts about such an organization."
"Fair enough," Indy said. "What do they believe?"
"That the evil empire as an entity is simply a front, and that none of us really have hard facts about what's going on."
"Hard facts?" Indy took a tight grip on himself not to offer a sharp retort to Franck. "What happened in South Africa, the train wrecks and slaughter... those are facts. The flying boat, the Empress Kali, those are facts."
Castilano gestured for attention. "There is more, Doctor Franck. We are still trying to sort out the details, but two more ships have been raided and sunk. There was an assault deep within Russia and a collection, priceless, of crown jewels stolen. But the strangest of all is that a member of our group has been contacted
by a source that remains, for now at least, nameless. They want to sell us that mysterious artifact that was stolen in the flying boat attack."
"A question, please?" Indy said quickly.
"Of course."
"How did this unidentified source know that we were a group?" Indy smiled. "Before you answer, would I be wrong in assuming they're asking a very high price for the cube? Letting this group believe that the artifact is not from this world?"
Franck eased into a more personal exchange with Indy by dropping his formal title. "Indy, if this artifact is as described, then it is beyond any price."
"Does anyone here have a number?" Indy pressed.
"One billion dollars," Franck said tersely.
"Would you pay it?" Indy asked.
Franck never hesitated. "Absolutely."
Sitting to his right, Gale Parker was more confused than she'd been since this meeting started. She already knew that Indy had set up the mock artifact in the Milledgeville train robbery, and now he was acting as if he believed the artifacts were real! Shut up and listen, she told herself. Indy knows what he's doing.
"All the money this group is amassing," Indy said. "What do they do with it?"
Matsuda motioned to the others that he would reply. "Such funds buy weapons. Tanks, bombers, submarines and so on. But weapons are not enough. With enough money you can buy loyalty. You establish your own power factions within governments. You control the press, you wield great propaganda, and you move into controlling industry. Control the food supply of a country and you control the country. I am of the opinion that this group is determined to wield control over international commerce as well as military power."
"The old benevolent emperor routine," Indy responded.
"Perhaps not so benevolent," Matsuda said.
"Am I right in judging that all the people in the consortium behind us are not necessarily in agreement with each other?" Indy asked.
"That is to be expected," Castilano said stiffly. "We are fighting both great power and shadows."
"And you're seriously considering paying as much as a billion dollars for that so-called extraterrestrial artifact?"
"That is my position," Franck confirmed.
Indy's smile almost had the touch of canary feathers. "Let me save you a billion dollars." He reached into a pocket of his jacket. "In fact, make that two billion dollars." He tossed a "pyramid artifact" onto the table where it bounced to a stop, and then produced a double of the "cube artifact" that had created such a furor.
They were stunned. They passed the two objects about the table, handling them with unabashed reverence. Finally Merlyn Franck returned to the moment. "How... how could you possibly have obtained these? And forgive me, Indy, but you seem cavalier about something for which men have died!"
"There aren't any artifacts from outer space," Indy said quietly. "Well, not these, anyway."
"Could they be from some ancient culture on our world?" Castilano queried.
"Not a chance."
"But... but how did you get these!" Marcia Mason burst out.
Indy studied her carefully, but not to any greater extent than the others in the room. Somewhere in this group there was a traitor. He'd been warned long before about that by Treadwell, but up to this moment no one had been able to point a finger with any confidence at anyone else. The woman's surprise as to his possession of the artifacts could be genuine, if she was faithful to the group. Or it could be surprise as to how I got these if she isn't, Indy mused. I'm not getting anywhere fast....
Castilano was openly agitated. "Indy, tell us. How did you get these?"
"I'm not going to tell you anything that our opponents don't already know," Indy said quickly. "Keep that in mind, please. First, I have a contract with the De Beers diamond mines. It is their custom always to place something in their jewel shipments that is easier to trace than diamonds, which can be recut to any size or shape. In this case, we used the cube artifact. The cuneiform markings simply gave it more authenticity. Or led people to believe that. But the cube, and this pyramid, were manufactured in England. I don't know the alloys involved; that's out of my field. But it's very much a homegrown product. My contribution was the markings. Someone who gets hold of this, and also believes in its rarity and value, must try to use or sell it in some way. So it acts as a beacon."
"Are you telling us that this group, whoever and whatever they are," Marcia Mason asked slowly and deliberately, "are trying to sell us a fake that our own group, yourself, created?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"But how could you... I mean, why would you have us believe these things were of such tremendous value!"
"I never said they were of any monetary or historical value," Indy told the group, but looking at Mason. "Just about everybody else did that. Including the people who have committed the crimes we're trying to solve. The stories about these artifacts were so effective that the people who robbed De Beers and the others figured the artifacts were the most valuable of all."
"But why try to kill you?" Franck burst out.
Castilano laughed. "Professor Jones is a better teacher than he is a secret agent. He almost set up his own execution. Once the group we are facing had determined these artifacts were spurious, they had to get rid of Jones, and his associates, before they could let the rest of us, or other customers in the world, know the things were worthless."
"And they came very close to succeeding," Gale Parker spoke up suddenly.
"There's another reason," Indy told the group. He had their instant attention. "Our opposition has a plant among us."
"A what?"
"We have a traitor in our midst," Indy said calmly. "For money, idealism; whatever. But someone within this group, which includes those people not present at this meeting, works for our enemy."
"That is a grave charge," Franck said, visibly disturbed.
"Yes, sir," Indy agreed. "It is also true."
For several minutes, the conference room resounded to arguments, rising and falling in volume and varying tones of anger and confusion. Indy had hoped this would follow his shocker of there being a traitor in their midst. Now, if Treadwell's own skills could be applied through Indy's next words, he might be able to rattle even more the cage of their unknown adversary. He waited until quiet returned to the group; they obviously hoped he might have more to tell them. Indy did, but his purpose was to pass on a "message" to their opposition.
"There is one other matter that needs clarification," he began. He had already caught them unawares, and knew he had their close attention.
"Those flying machines," Indy said, seemingly confused about the issue. "We haven't said a word about something the best aeronautical engineers in the world really can't explain. Discs, or saucers, or whatever they're called, flying at speeds that seem impossible. The mother ship, if that is really what it is, well, that's much easier to understand. It's sort of a super zeppelin—"
"But we don't know what makes it go, do we?" Dr. Franck broke in.
"No, sir, we don't," Indy admitted. "Let me change that, sir. I don't know what makes it go. I'm no pilot and I'm no engineer, but I do listen to the really sharp people in those lines. And they tell me the stories of those discs, or scimitars, coming from outer space, well, as far as they're concerned, that's nonsense."
"In the face of what we've heard," Castilano said, "they still feel they're from right here, from earth?"
"They sure do," Indy said.
"I must beg to differ," Matsuda broke in. "I do not say they are from other worlds, Professor Jones, but there is nothing known on this world that flies without wings, at five hundred miles an hour, that can hover, or levitate. What they do is impossible by everything we know."
"I'm not arguing with you, sir," Indy said. "I wouldn't do that. I tell you only what the experts tell me."
"Then your experts, Indy," Castilano followed Matsuda, "seem in need of better information. Our flying machines are helpless before these discs. There must be an
explanation beyond the mere statement that they are of local origin."
"I agree. But I am explaining to you that the professionals in this field are convinced we are dealing with terrestrial vehicles, produced in a manner we can't yet explain, operated by a force we can't yet identify. No, I shouldn't say that. I don't get into the technical side of all this. They believe they either have the answers or they're about to get them."
That should do it, Indy concluded to himself. Whoever is on the side of the opposition is going to get back to them as fast as they can that their plan is starting to come unglued at the seams. I sure hope Henshaw and Treadwell are better at this than I am....
Indy rose to his feet. "I have a lot to do, much to learn, and I'm racing a clock. I've also got some great help now. We may be closer to answers than any of you realize."
Gale and Tarkiz also were standing. They didn't say a word. But their facial expressions and the manner in which they stood made it abundantly clear they were in full agreement with Indy. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, as one by one everyone else stood, Indy caught a fleeting glimpse of a workman, olive-skinned and in a turban, leaving through a rear side door. Just a glimpse and the man was gone. It should have meant nothing, but who would leave this incredible scene? Because if he were privy to listening to the exchange, he already had been judged as loyal to the group.
"You are really quite disturbing in what you say, Indy," Franck finally broke the ice.
"You have our continued full support," Matsuda assured him.
"And ours," said Castilano.
"I await further word, I must admit," Quahirah smiled, "with great anticipation."
Indiana Jones and tyhe Sky Pirates Page 15
