Indiana Jones and the Dance of the Giants

by Rob MacGregor

  "Gold?"

  "Yeah." Indy turned around. "By the way, what the hell are you doing here?"

  Before Shannon could answer, the sound of voices in the hallway interrupted him. "Indy?"

  Deirdre stood in the doorway, and behind her were Joanna and Lily. Deirdre looked around, her eyes wide, her mouth open, as if the confusion of furniture and clothing disoriented her. She took a couple of faltering steps into the room and Indy moved swiftly over to her as she collapsed into his arms.

  With the housekeeper's help, Shannon heaved the mattress back onto the bed frame, and Indy laid Deirdre carefully onto it. "I'm all right," she mumbled. "I'm all right. I just want to catch my breath a minute."

  "Did you see who did this?" Joanna asked.

  "He saw them all right. They almost killed him," Shannon said.

  "Who are you?" Joanna asked suspiciously.

  "He's an old friend, my roommate," Indy said. He looked over at Shannon. "Just came up for a visit, I guess."

  "So what happened?"

  Indy told her about the assault, and how Shannon's arrival saved his life. "They were big guys, wearing black mesh over their faces."

  Joanna turned to Lily. "Did you see them?"

  Lily shook her head. "I didn't see anyone come or go."

  "Excuse me a minute," Joanna said, and she walked out.

  Indy frowned, and turned back to Lily. "You sure you didn't see anyone?"

  "Well, now, I was out for a bit and they might have snuck in, but I don't see how they would've gotten out. I was downstairs ever since your friend here arrived."

  Indy thought a moment. "That can only mean one thing. They went to another room."

  He walked out into the hall and down to Joanna's room. She was standing in the doorway as he arrived. He got one quick look inside before she closed the door.

  "They got mine, too," she said. "They must have just left. The door was open, and it wasn't when we came up here."

  "Anything missing?"

  "I don't think any of us will have to worry about that. They're not common thieves. They're looking for the scroll."

  "A scroll?" Shannon said. "I thought you said gold."

  "Never mind. Let's look around downstairs." They hurried down the staircase and searched the first floor. Everything appeared in order, and no one else was around.

  "I'll get the constable," Lily said.

  Indy nodded. "We'll be upstairs."

  "So what exactly are you doing here?" Indy asked as he and Shannon headed down to the pub after the constable had finished with them.

  "I was going to send you a letter, but the more I thought about it I realized that you might not get it in time. Looks like I was right."

  "What were you going to write me about?"

  Shannon gingerly touched his side. "First I was going to tell you that spiders and scorpions are definitely related."

  "Yeah. How so?"

  Shannon smiled. "They're both arachnids. They've got eight legs."

  "And their names both start with an S, too. But I don't think you came all the way to Whithorn to give me a biology lesson."

  "Not exactly. Doesn't that name mean anything to you, Indy?"

  "Arachnids?"

  "You're the expert in Greek mythology. C'mon, Indy," Shannon prodded.

  Indy didn't have to think long at all. "Arachne. She challenged Athena to a weaving contest, and was turned into a spider."

  "Right."

  "Let me guess, Jack. You think Joanna's the spider lady."

  "So you know already."

  "All I know is that I got a quick look in Joanna's room before the door was closed in my face. The place was a wreck, and scribbled on the mirror above her dresser was one word in big black spidery letters."

  "Arachne?"

  "You got it."

  "This is getting more interesting all the time, and I just got here," Shannon said as they arrived at the pub.

  The place was crowded and noisy, but they managed to find an empty table in the corner. They ordered ales and plates of fish and chips. "So what do you know that I don't, Jack?"

  "Plenty. But first tell me what I've missed."

  Indy quickly related what had happened since he'd arrived. He stopped once to get refills for their ales. They tipped glasses, then he continued, telling his friend about the explosion and the aftermath. Shannon listened quietly. If he was surprised, he didn't show it.

  "Chlorine gas, eh? Someone high up with good contacts could probably get his hands on a canister of it fairly easy, I would think."

  "I suppose," Indy said, wondering what Shannon was thinking about.

  Their dinners arrived. "Okay. Your turn, Jack. Tell me a story."

  Shannon sampled the fried fish. "Well, first of all it turns out that our eight-legged friends are coming from an exotic pet shop outside of London. You'd never guess who owns it."

  "Go on," Indy said impatientiy, as he bit into a fried potato soaked in vinegar.

  "The owner is named Adrian Powell. He happens to be a member of Parliament."

  "An MP?"

  "You got it, a young Conservative Party politician on the rise. His big issue is opposing the plan for the Commonwealth of British nations, and he spouts off about it at every chance. He thinks it'll mean an end to the empire."

  "I think I've heard of him. How does he have time to run a pet store, for chrissake?"

  "He doesn't. Somebody else runs it."

  "But why the hell would he be interested in making my life difficult?"

  "Let me finish. You see, he bought the pet store from Joanna Campbell. Her husband used to own it before he died. Bit by a coral snake, by the way, in his own shop."

  "Swell way to die."

  "But just guess how much Powell paid for the shop."

  Indy shook his head. "No idea."

  "One lousy pound." Shannon took a deep swallow of his ale, then set the mug down.

  "How do you figure that?"

  "I don't know, but that's not all, either."

  "I had the feeling there was more," Indy said, grimly. "Go on."

  "Powell developed a strong interest in your friend, Deirdre. They saw each other for awhile until she cut him off. It seems that Joanna didn't want her to have anything to do with him."

  "That still doesn't explain why he'd send me a candy box of spiders before I even got to London."

  Shannon stroked his red goatee. "That's a tough one. There must be some connection we're not seeing yet. Unless it was just to annoy Joanna."

  It didn't make much sense to him. "It annoyed me a hell of a lot more than it annoyed her. If she didn't like Powell, why'd she give him the pet shop?"

  "Maybe she had a change of heart."

  "What's this Powell look like?"

  Shannon reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of newspaper, and handed it to him. Indy straightened it out. The photograph was of a man about thirty, with wavy hair and a winning smile.

  He shook his head. "That's not the guy in the library."

  Shannon laughed as Indy handed the clipping back to him. "You think a member of Parliament would chase you around the British Museum Library? Not likely."

  "I was chasing him," Indy shot back.

  "You were chasing after someone he hired to watch you."

  Indy set his ale down. "It's still hard to believe. I barely knew Deirdre, and I certainly don't give a damn one way or another about the Commonwealth."

  "Maybe you should," Shannon said, and he laughed again. "You know, I bet Powell's got good military contacts with access to chemical weapons."

  Indy scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah. No doubt."

  "How are things with you and Deirdre? I couldn't help noticing the way she swooned into your arms."

  "I don't know if that's exactly what she did, but you could say things have been heating up. At least they were until the roof fell in."

  Shannon grinned. "She's a nice girl, I decided. I hate to see you disappoint her."r />
  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Here today, gone tomorrow, you know. You've always had a reputation as a heartbreaker."

  "This time it's different. I think I love her. She's really something special."

  "Sure."

  "I don't know what it is, Jack. But she's on my mind all the time. I can't imagine finding anyone else who could be any better for me."

  "My God, do I hear wedding bells?"

  Indy was about to tell Shannon he wasn't that crazy about her, but he stopped short. "I've got to talk to her about Powell," he said vaguely.

  "I can't believe you're ready to hang up your spurs already. Doesn't sound like you."

  Indy stabbed a chip with his fork. "You've got a bad attitude, Jack. That's your problem."

  "Yeah, well, that could be." Shannon looked around the pub. "Think I'm ready to hit the hay early tonight. I've had a long day."

  "I'm going to see how Deirdre's doing."

  "Funny, that doesn't surprise me. Just keep an eye out for Mother Campbell. It's hard to say what she's up to."

  "I'll second that."

  They stood up to leave. "By the way, before you retire tonight, you better check your bed real close," Shannon said.

  "What for?"

  "Mites. They're arachnids, too."

  "Swell!" Just the thought made Indy's skin crawl.

  15

  After Dark

  Lovesickness. That was her affliction.

  Deirdre pushed her dinner tray away from the side of the bed after eating only a few bites. She was tired of being frail and sickly. It wasn't her nature. Besides, she didn't really feel sick. She'd just had a momentary relapse.

  When Lily had rushed up and said that the professor was in a bad way, Deirdre had thought the worst. Her reaction was simply her relief at seeing that Indy was all right. She'd tried to explain that to Joanna without saying she was madly in love with Indy, but it was no use. Joanna was convinced Deirdre was ill.

  She rested her head on the pillow, closed her eyes, and imagined Indy there, lying next to her. Just the thought of him thrilled her. She supposed it was the way everyone felt when they were in love, but she preferred to think of it as a personal, one-of-a-kind sensation. It certainly wasn't anything she'd ever felt toward Adrian or anyone else.

  But it was no good imagining him with her when he was so nearby. Restlessly, she climbed out of bed and for the third time in the last hour tapped lightly on the wall facing Indy's room. Again, no response. She wished she could just walk out and look for him, but she knew that was impossible. Joanna was worried that the hooded men would return, and had enlisted a villager to guard the door. Deirdre had overheard her mother telling the man not to allow her to leave the room alone.

  She paced the floor. Why should she be stuck here? It wasn't fair.

  She looked at her tray; she had an idea. She picked it up and carried it over to the door. She opened it and smiled at the guard. He was a husky man of about twenty-five, the son or cousin of the mayor. She couldn't remember which it was. She just remembered that he always won the log-tossing contests at the annual gathering of the clans. She held out her tray.

  "Would you mind taking this down to Lily, please. I can't eat anymore."

  "Of course, ma'am."

  As soon as he was out of sight, she grabbed her sweater from the chair and hurried down the back staircase and out the back door. She walked quickly down the alley through an evening fog. She wrapped her sweater tightly around her as she reached the corner, then headed over to the main street. The pub was just a block away.

  The fog was denser now, denser than she could ever remember it in the evening. She couldn't see more than a couple of feet in front of her. Maybe this was a mistake. No, just one more block. She kept walking.

  There was something odd about the night besides the fog, she decided. It was so quiet she could hear herself breathing. And where was everyone? It was still early enough for villagers to be out for a stroll or shopping along the main street. But she hadn't seen anyone.

  Then as she neared the pub, the fog started to dissipate and she felt better. She could see the buildings, and there were people, a group of them in front of the pub. But her sense of relief was short-lived. The men were garbed in black robes, and were huddled together, as if they were planning something. Even though none was looking at her she felt threatened, a cold, piercing menace that sent shivers across her back.

  From somewhere came the sound of bagpipes playing an eerie melody that wasn't a melody at all. Notes that sounded familiar, but not familiar. What was it? It sounded vaguely like a march she had heard a thousand times, but it was all wrong. Then she realized what it was. The notes were being played backwards.

  Her breathing came in quick gasps now. Despite the chill, sweat beaded on her forehead and the back of her neck. Backwards, she thought, like the men. Then suddenly they moved apart into two groups, their backs still turned to her, and a solitary figure seemed to glide between them toward her. He was dressed in a black robe like the others, moving closer, facing her.

  Adrian.

  She heard his laugh, recognized it, then she could see his features clearly, his wavy hair, his handsome face, the cleft in his chin.

  "My dear, dreaming again?"

  She took a step back. "Leave me alone."

  "It's just a dream, Deirdre." He laughed, and this time the others joined him. Simultaneously, they turned around; their faces were shadows beneath their cowls. They were moving toward her. The laughter was horrible. Then she realized it wasn't laughter at all, but the sound of the bagpipes. The fog was rolling in; they were pressing in on her, reaching their hands toward her.

  Adrian's face loomed in front of her. She screamed, and bolted upright in bed. She sucked in her breath, reaching a hand to her mouth. The door swung open. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

  She stared at the guard. Her mouth was dry, but her hair clung to the back of her wet neck. "I'm... I'm..." She shook her head. "I don't know what happened."

  He nodded uneasily. "The professor was here to see you. I told him you were sleeping. Would you like me to get him? He's downstairs in the dining room."

  "Yes, please do."

  She looked at the side of her bed as he started to close the door. "Wait."

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "The tray with my dinner. What happened to it?"

  "Miss Lily came and took it. She didn't think you would want any more, since you were asleep."

  "She took it, you say. But... didn't I give it to you first?"

  "No, ma'am."

  She looked away. "Thank you."

  She closed her eyes. What was happening to her? Was she losing her mind? She forced herself to get up and walk over to the sink. She splashed water on her face, dried herself, and picked up a brush.

  "Deirdre?"

  Indy's head peered through the doorway. Their eyes met, then he stepped into the room. "Are you all right? The guard said you screamed."

  She dropped the brush into the sink, and the words spilled out of her. "I don't know what's going on, Indy. I was sneaking out to go look for you. I'm almost sure of it. I saw him, but it was a dream. I think it was. I don't even know."

  Indy held up both hands. "Wait a minute. Who did you see? Sit down and start from the beginning. Take it nice and slow."

  She nodded, and sat on the bed as Indy pulled up a chair next to her. She told him all about Adrian Powell, beginning with her first encounter with him. Her voice was laced with fear, anger, and frustration. "I should've told you about him, I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with me. He won't leave me alone."

  He lifted her from the bed, took her in his arms, held her close to him. "It's okay."

  "I wish it were okay." She looked away, wiped her eyes again.

  "But why were you screaming? You haven't told me."

  "It sounds so crazy," she said. Pacing the room, she told him about the dream she'd had in the mayor'
s house, and then described what had just happened to her.

  "It was just a bad dream, Deirdre. You were thinking about the men who broke into the rooms when you were falling asleep and your imagination went wild. That's all."

  She stopped in front of him. "But it wasn't like any dream I've ever had. Maybe it was a dream, but I was still awake."

  He brushed the hair back from her face. "You couldn't have been awake. The guard said you never left the room, and no one went in." He stroked her cheek. "But I'm glad you dreamed about looking for me."

  "I wish I'd found you," she said, ruefully.

  "You did. I'm here." He kissed her. There was no hesitation this time, no teasing. Her breath came faster; her pulse speeded; he felt so good against her. She never wanted the moment to end.

  He whispered that he loved her, his mouth against her hair, and she pressed her head to his chest, wanting to purr.

  "Indy?"

  "Yeah?"

  "The guard."

  "I'll tell him to go home. You're in fine hands."

  She stepped back, her hands braced on his hips. "I know. Let's go for a walk."

  His face fell. "A walk?"

  "Please?"

  She knew he had other ideas, but she wasn't ready. Not quite yet.

  "You sure you want to go out?"

  "I think it'll help me get over this feeling that the dream was real, and that I'm not going crazy."

  "Sure. Okay. But you can take it from me, you're not going crazy."

  It was after eight when they left, and the village was neither dead nor lively. They passed several very normal-looking people as they moved along the cobbled street under the dim beams of street lamps. Even though it was August, the nights were cool in Whithorn, and she was glad she'd worn her sweater.

  "See, no fog," Indy said, glancing up toward the gibbous moon. "It was just a dream. That's all."

  She squeezed his hand. "I hope you're not a dream."

  "Sorry, I'm real."

  When they passed the pub, she stared at it and shook her head. "It was so strange, so different before."

  A couple of blocks further they reached the outskirts of the village. "It's a nice night," Deirdre said. "Let's keep going."