by Max McCoy
"Frogs, gnats, and swarms of flies," Indy said. "Boils, fiery hail, and locusts. Cattle die. Darkness upon the land. Death for the firstborn of Egypt. But even if you found it," Indy asked, "how would you know it was the Staff? If it survived, it would be nothing but a dried-up old stick by now."
"You mean how could you tell it from a fake?" Faye asked. "The Bible describes it as a rod, made of almond, with Aaron's name on it. And then, of course, how many dried-up old sticks can perform miracles?"
"You can't be serious," Indy said.
Faye returned his unblinking stare.
"Well," Indy said, "if it works, then I guess it would settle the question of magic once and for all."
Faye smiled, and was about to add something when Mystery burst into the room.
"Dr. Jones!" she said. "Mother! Come quickly. There's an airplane in the lagoon."
Indy and Faye followed Mystery outside. The brilliance of the sunshine on the beach made Indy blink.
Sitting in the middle of the lagoon, like a lone duck on a farm pond, was a massive flying boat. It had four engines mounted on its single, overhead wing. The fuselage was shaped more like the hull of a boat than an aircraft, an effect that was reinforced by a series of portholes. On the nose, below the cockpit windows in black lettering, were the words Pan American.
From beneath the wing of the plane the crew was launching a small boat.
Pascal appeared at Indy's side.
"I did not expect you to be up so early, considering your ordeal yesterday," he said.
"When did the flying boat arrive?" Indy asked.
"A few minutes ago," Pascal said. "I made contact with the Augusta this morning," he explained. "They, in turn, contacted the flying boat."
"I didn't know Pan Am had passenger service in this part of the world yet," Indy said.
"They don't," Pascal said. "Their Clippers are limited to South America, I believe. But the radioman on the Augusta said they were testing a new aircraft."
As the boat neared the beach, Pascal became uncomfortable.
"If you don't mind," he said, "I have the morning's duties yet to perform."
"Thank you," Indy said.
"Thanks is not necessary."
"Oh, I think it is," Indy said and held out his hand. Pascal paused, then grasped Indy's hand in his.
"We won't forget your kindness," Indy said.
Pascal nodded, then disappeared into the cavern of the church.
The boat pulled up to the beach and the crewman rowing shipped the oars. A tall man in a blue jacket stepped from the bow into the surf.
"I understand you've had rather a tough go," he said.
"Just a small typhoon," Indy said.
"We were lucky enough to avoid it," the man said. "My name is Ed Musick. I fly for Pan American, as you can see, and we've been performing tests on the Sikorsky S-42. Beautiful, isn't she?"
"I'll say. I haven't seen one in years."
"Pardon?" Musick asked. "The S-42 just went into production."
"I mean, a flying boat," Indy said.
Musick smiled.
"We've also been exploring some airways and harbors for a possible China route next year," he said. "We received a radio message asking us to rescue some storm refugees."
"That would be us," Indy said. "Captain Musick, this is Faye Maskelyne and her daughter, Mystery."
"Ladies," Musick said and tipped his hat. "I'm afraid we can't return you to the States, since we're not equipped yet for passenger service. But our next stop is Calcutta, and from there you should have no problem getting passage back."
"That would be a great help," Indy said.
"Is your party ready?" Musick asked. "The radioman said there were four of you."
"We're almost ready," Indy said.
"What do we do with the lieutenant?" Faye asked.
"We can't leave her here," Indy said. "We'll take her to Calcutta and drop her off at the Japanese embassy."
"A Japanese national?" Musick asked.
"The only other survivor of our boat," Indy said.
"I'll go untie her," Faye said.
"She's tied up?" Musick asked.
"Wait," Indy said. "After you meet her, you'll understand."
As the flying boat ascended into the blue sky above Lazarus Island, Indy sank into the well-cushioned seat and pulled the brim of the fedora over his eyes. Faye and Mystery were gathered at the window, looking down at the azure lagoon, but Indy had been in so many airplanes that such sights had become routine. Instead, he was thinking about how he would phrase the telegram to Marcus Brody when they arrived in Calcutta, and where they would stay until the money arrived.
On the other side of the aisle, with her hands bound but her eyes bright and sharp, was Musashi.
She was planning as well.
6
Jadoo
Indy pulled Musashi by the hand through the crowds that choked downtown Calcutta, with Faye and Mystery at their heels. Above the confusing mix of Bengali, Hindi, and Urdu—which everyone seemed to be speaking as loudly and as quickly as possible—there were the shrieking horns and growling engines of the incessant buses, the tread of tens of thousands of feet, and the universal cry of the curbside beggars.
"This is the noisiest city I've ever heard," Faye said.
"It's also the poorest," Indy said. "Thousands of these people sleep on the streets because they have nowhere else to go. Most of those fortunate enough to have a home live in the bustees, the slums, where there is no running water and no sewers. Starvation and disease are rampant."
"After the Depression hit, I thought Oklahoma was rough," Faye said. "But the more I see of the world, the more fortunate I feel to be an American."
"Don't forget that feeling," Indy shouted back.
After asking at every corner they came to, they eventually found the Japanese embassy, hidden from the teeming masses by an iron gate guarded by a pair of Imperial soldiers.
"Okay," Indy said as he untied the rope that bound Musashi's hand to his, "this is it. Sayonara."
She stood in front of the gate, rubbing her wrist.
"Hey!" Indy shouted as he waved his arms at the guards. "Hai! Come and get her. She's one of yours!"
"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Musashi said.
Indy leaned close to her.
"There's still time," he said.
The guards unlocked the gate and Musashi stepped inside. She immediately began barking orders in Japanese and pointing at Indy.
"They wouldn't dare—," Indy said.
"They would," Faye said as the soldiers came toward them.
"Run!" Indy said.
In a moment they were lost in the crowd. The soldiers stopped at the end of the block, unwilling to get out of sight of the embassy.
"Cowards," Musashi hissed when they returned.
After haggling with a pawnbroker for twenty minutes, Indy succeeded in pawning his wristwatch for ten dollars. Then, at the Western Union office next door to the pawnbroker, he sent a telegram to New York. Its briefness was dictated not only by the precarious state of their finances, but by Indy's reluctance to explain:
TO: MARCUS BRODY, AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY.
FROM: INDIANA JONES
IN CALCUTTA, NEED MONEY QUICK. STOP. NO QUESTIONS, WILL EXPLAIN LATER. STOP.
At Travelers Aid, they asked about the cheapest and safest place to spend the night. They were sent to the Atlas House, a somewhat run-down but still respectable hotel that catered mostly to middle-class English-speaking merchants. The Atlas charged two dollars per night, with board. They signed for two rooms.
As the desk clerk looked at their names, his eyebrows went up.
"Something wrong?" Indy asked.
"No," the clerk said. "It's just that Maskelyne is a name you don't see much. Had a Maskelyne stay here three or four years ago, as I recall."
"Kaspar Maskelyne?" Faye asked.
"I believe so," the clerk said.
>
"Are you sure?" Faye asked. "It's very important."
The clerk pulled an old register from beneath the counter and began to turn the pages.
"Yes, here it is," he said and turned the register around so that Faye could read the entry. "February 14, 1930. Valentine's Day. Staying in one of the same rooms you are."
Faye ran her finger over the signature.
"Which room?" she asked.
"Yours," the clerk said. "Two-oh-seven. Are you related to him?"
"I'm his wife," she said, choking back a tear. "This is his daughter."
"Who's that?" the clerk asked about Indy.
"A friend," Faye said. "Helping us look. My husband's disappeared."
"Why do you remember Kaspar?" Indy asked. "You must get several hundred guests each year."
"Well, we don't get too many that are magicians," the clerk said. "He would give little performances out here in the lobby area in the evenings, and talk to folks about magic and such. An awfully friendly fellow. He stayed here about a week."
"Do you recall anything else?" Faye asked.
"He asked me if I had ever heard of a bloke named Jadoo," he said. "Sure, I says, everyone has heard of the old Jadoo, the most famous magician in India. He asked if I could help him find an address on Bengali. It's at the edge of one of the bustees, and hard to find if you don't know what you're looking for."
"Do you have a pencil and a scrap of paper?" Faye asked.
"Certainly."
"Would you mind telling us how to get there?"
"Not at all," the clerk said. He wrote the directions down, then said, "That's an area you don't want to be caught in after dark. I'd wait until morning."
"We can't go now?" Mystery asked.
"He's right," Indy said. "Let's wait until morning."
"Mother," Mystery said. "This is the first good clue we've had."
"We've waited four years," Faye said. "Another night isn't going to make any difference. Besides, I'm tired and hungry, and we can't pay a visit on a fellow magician looking like shipwreck victims—which, of course, we are."
They found the shop on a narrow side street. They had passed it twice before Mystery noticed the small numbers on a faded red door that read 707. The door opened on a flight of worn stairs that led to another, more substantial door on the third floor. This door, made of oak, had a carefully polished brass nameplate attached—Jadoo: World Famed Magician. By Appointment Only.
"How do you make an appointment?" Mystery wondered.
"Let's find out," Indy said as he rapped sharply on the door with his knuckles.
After a few moments a flap opened in the middle of the door. A pair of bloodshot eyes peered out.
"We're here to see Jadoo," Indy said. "I'm Indiana Jones, and these are—"
"So sorry," the squeaky colonial British voice that went with the bloodshot eyes said. "By appointment only."
The flap slammed shut.
Indy knocked again, this time a little harder.
The flap opened.
"You don't understand," Indy said with forced civility. "We need to see Jadoo the Magician on a matter of some importance. We don't have time to make an appointment."
"Appointment only," the voice snapped.
The flap closed again.
Indy rubbed his jaw, regarded the closed door, then pounded on it with the edge of his fist.
The flap did not open.
He pounded again, this time hard enough to bring plaster down from the aging ceiling.
"Stop," Faye said.
"I thought you wanted to see this joker," Indy said.
"I do," she said, "but not by tearing his building down."
"Be my guest," Indy said.
"Excuse me," Faye said and knocked lightly on the flap. "We're terribly sorry for the inconvenience, and I understand that all visitors should have an appointment. But if you would be so kind as to tell Jadoo that the Maskelynes are here to—"
The flap snapped open.
"What name did you say?"
"The Maskelynes," Faye repeated. "I am Faye Maskelyne, the wife of the great magician Kaspar Maskelyne, and this is our daughter, Mystery."
"Hello," Mystery said.
The flap snapped shut, and then there were the rattle of chains and the clicks of turning locks. The door opened, and a thin Indian man in a white jacket urged them in with a wave of his hand.
"I am the master's servant," the man said. "Call me Pasha."
"Thank you," Faye said.
They found themselves in an extravagantly appointed entrance room full of memorabilia of several decades of magic. The shelves were filled with books on magic in several languages and brimmed with props and other devices. The servant closed and locked the door behind them once they were in.
"I am sorry," he said, "but the master is out at the moment. He will be back very soon, however, and I am certain that he would like to see you. Do you care to wait?"
"We will wait," Faye said.
"Very well," Pasha said. "May I get you some refreshments? Tea, perhaps?"
"That would be nice," Faye said.
"Very well," Pasha said, putting his hands together and giving a little bow. Then he backed out of the room.
"This place is like a museum," Mystery said as she examined the dusty contents of the shelves. "I can see why Father would have been drawn to this place."
"Yes," Faye said.
"Look at this," Mystery said as she picked up a drinking goblet that had been made from a human skull mounted on a silver base. The skull was upside down and had been cut in two about the line of the upper jaw, so that the open cranium formed the cup of the goblet. The eye sockets and the nasal cavities were filled with hammered gold. The skull had been bleached and polished to an ivorylike degree of brightness, although the teeth were somewhat yellow. One of the molars was capped with gold.
"Is it real?" she asked.
Indy took it. The inside of the cranium was etched with the rivulets for blood vessels that, in life, had helped supply blood to the brain.
"I'm afraid so," Indy said.
"Yuck," Mystery said. She made a face and wiped the palms of her hands on her jeans. "Who could be so twisted as to want to drink from a human skull?"
"It is used for ritual magic," Indy said. "Common among primitive peoples all over the world. The idea is that if you make your rival's head into a cup, then each time you drink from it you are symbolically ingesting his power. Surely it's just a piece of the collection."
Faye took the goblet from Indy.
"Among some tribes, it is a symbol of respect, even veneration," she said. "The greater your enemy, the greater therefore you must be."
"How barbaric," Mystery said.
"Hmm," Faye said. "It's not dusty like the other items."
"You can't be suggesting...," Indy said.
Faye wiped the interior of the cranium with her middle finger, then tasted it.
"Wine," she said. "White. Not too old, I'd say."
"Terrific," Indy said.
Faye placed the goblet back on the shelf.
"Let's hope," she said, "that the owner of this skull was already dead before Jadoo fancied his head as a drinking cup."
"I wonder if he had an appointment," Indy said.
"We'll ask," Faye said.
Pasha returned with a tray. He poured strong British tea from a silver kettle into three cups. Faye took the steaming cup that was offered, but Indy declined.
"Me neither," said Mystery.
"Oh?" Pasha asked. "Could I get the young lady some milk, and the gentleman some wine, perhaps?"
Mystery shook her head.
"No thanks," Indy said with a smile. "I'm not thirsty."
"As you wish," Pasha said. "I expect the master back shortly. In the meantime, is there anything else that I could get for your comfort?"
"Actually, there is," Indy said. "We're expecting a wire from the States this afternoon. Could you telephone the Western Union offi
ce and ask them to deliver it here?"
"We have no telephone," Pasha said. "But I will send a messenger to the telegraph office. In whose name will this message be directed?"
"Mine," Indy said.
"Very well, Dr. Jones."
Indy searched Pasha's eyes, but he did not flinch.
"You must have a phenomenal memory," Indy said.
"Beg your pardon, sir?"
"I don't remember telling you that I was a professor."
"We do receive newswire reports, even in Calcutta," Pasha said. "It would be a very uninformed citizen of the empire who did not know the name of the famous archaeologist."
Pasha backed out of the room.
"You don't trust him," Faye said.
"There's not many people I do trust," Indy said. Then, when he felt Mystery's eyes on the back of his neck he added: "Present company excepted."
There was the sound of a closing door somewhere nearby, and hushed voices followed by approaching footsteps. A tall, white-haired man wearing a black turban and jacket entered the room.
His skin was the color of walnut, but his eyes were a piercing blue.
"Guests," he said. "Forgive me for making you wait. Had I known you were here, I would have hurried. Please, come into my inner office."
"Thank you," Faye said.
They followed him into a dark, well-carpeted room where a ceiling fan turned slowly. The magician sat in a richly upholstered chair and withdrew a cigar from a wooden box on a side table, then offered the box to Indy.
"No thanks," Indy said. "I don't smoke."
"I do," Faye said.
"As you wish," Jadoo said and allowed her to select a cigar.
Jadoo lit his cigar with a wooden match, then passed the matches to Faye. She bit off one end of the cigar, then sucked flame into the other end of it.
"I didn't know you smoked, Mother."
"I've had to give it up," Faye said as the smoke serpentined around her head, drawn upward by the ceiling fan. "It's difficult to get American cigarettes, and the local stuff they smoke stinks too much. My, this is strong."
Jadoo smiled.
"Dr. Jones, I know you by reputation. And madam, Pasha tells me that you are the wife of my peer, Kaspar Maskelyne. How may I help you?"
