Indiana Jones and the Dance of the Giants

by Rob MacGregor

  Indy glanced back toward the village. "Okay, but not too far."

  The village quickly receded behind them, and stands of beeches bordered either side of the road. Their leaves were silver-tinged in the moonlight, an enchanted forest if there ever was one. She commented on the cool evening and the fresh smell of earth and forest. After a time, she said: "Did you talk to Joanna this evening?"

  "No. Didn't get a chance."

  "She's thinking about closing shop on the dig. She thinks it's too dangerous to stay here any longer."

  "Maybe she's right."

  Deirdre cast a sidelong glance. "I guess your friend, Jack, showed up at a bad time."

  "He was right on time as far as I'm concerned. I doubt if I'd be talking to you if he'd hadn't shown up."

  "Then I'm glad he did." She squeezed his hand again. "How did you meet him?"

  "We were in the same dormitory at college. When we were juniors we got an apartment together. He was the only guy from the dorm who I felt I could stand living with."

  "Why was that?"

  "I don't know. Maybe it was because he approached life with a certain attitude. He was a business student, but he was also a jazz musician and that shaped his life."

  "What is this attitude he has?"

  "It's kind of like his music. The accents are on the offbeat. Where you're not expecting them." He glanced at her, wondering if she had any idea what he was talking about. "So the unexpected becomes the essential, rather than the exception. You understand?"

  She nodded her head slowly. "Now I know where that American slang phrase comes from."

  "What phrase is that?"

  "When someone is called an offbeat person."

  Indy laughed. "I guess so. I never thought about it that way."

  "And you? Are you an offbeat person?"

  He laughed. "Off the beaten path, maybe. Archaeology is like jazz in that way. You have a basic pattern you're working from, but you've got to innovate, to fuse what is known with what's still a possibility. At least that's the way I look at it."

  They walked in silence for a few moments. "I want to know all about your past," she said. "I'm sure it's been much more exciting than mine."

  "Oh, I don't know."

  "Don't be modest. I remember what Joanna said that night at the restaurant about your experience in Greece. Tell me more about it."

  She listened as he told her how he'd nearly lost his life in a deep chasm after his rope snapped, and how he had inadvertently discovered the Omphalos. He mentioned a woman named Dorian, and although he tried to skirt any mention of their relationship, she could tell from the way he talked about her that they had been lovers, and that she had disappointed him.

  "It sounds fascinating."

  "There's a lot more. This Omphalos, it's... Well, I'll tell you about it sometime. I think we better turn back now."

  They walked in silence again. Pebbles crunched underfoot. In his story about Greece, Indy had mentioned that Jack Shannon had shown up unexpectedly at Delphi, and that made her wonder if his appearance here was more than just a friendly visit.

  "Did you know Jack was coming?"

  "No. But that's Jack."

  "He just came to say hi?" she asked, skeptically.

  "He had some news for me."

  "Oh? What kind of news?"

  Indy paused as if he was considering how to answer. "You want to hear another story?"

  "Sure."

  He told her about an incident on a train with spiders in a candy box, and then another about scorpions in his room.

  "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

  "I didn't tell you because I didn't know it had anything to do with you."

  "Does it?"

  "I'm afraid so." Indy told her that Shannon had discovered the source of the creatures, the pet shop her father had owned. Then he told her who owned it, and how much Powell had paid for it.

  Deirdre stopped in the road. "I can't believe it. It must be some mistake. Why would Joanna give it away to him?"

  "I don't know. Why would Powell try to kill me before I even met you?"

  "He tried to kill both of us in the cave."

  "We don't know that it was him."

  "I've got to talk to Joanna," Deirdre said.

  "So do I. Let's go."

  Indy took her hand and started walking. "I'm sorry I got you involved in this mess. It's my fault."

  "No it's not." Their faint moon-made shadows merged and stretched across the road. She hugged him as he stroked her hair. "Everything will work out. You'll see," he whispered.

  "I hope you're not thinking that Joanna is responsible for any of what's happened here."

  "My guess is that she knows more than she's told either of us, but I think she's been victimized, too."

  Deirdre shook her head. "I don't understand any of it."

  Then she heard something just ahead, a crunching sound. The trees were thick, and the pale moonlight cast shadows halfway across the road. She froze, and Indy's body went rigid. She sucked in her breath. "What is it?" she said under her breath.

  Indy slowly turned and followed her gaze. She glimpsed a flicker of movement near the trees. Maybe it was just an animal scurrying along the side of the road. She heard the sound again, distinct this time. Footsteps. Someone was approaching, moving along in the deep shadows at the edge of the road. Whoever it was could see them in the moonlight.

  "Indy, I'm afraid."

  "Who's there?" His fists were clenched and he stepped in front of her. They should've never left the house. This was her fault. But it was too late now.

  A dark form stepped from the shadows, a man dressed in black.

  "Deirdre? Professor Jones?"

  "Who is it?" Indy asked.

  But as he spoke, she knew the answer. Moonlight cast on one side of the man's face and she recognized the old priest. "Father Byrne!"

  "Sorry if I frightened you. I was out for a walk, and came upon you. You both seemed so wrapped up with each other that I thought it was a shame for me to interrupt."

  "I hope we didn't startle you," Indy said.

  The white-haired priest laughed, a deep, friendly laugh. "My God, why would the sight of a lad kissing his lass frighten me? I may be a priest, but I know what a kiss in the dark is like on a beautiful evening." Then he corrected himself. "Or at least I know what it must be like."

  "Actually, we're glad it's you," Deirdre said. "We thought you might be someone else."

  "You mean Adrian Powell?" Byrne asked darkly.

  16

  Revelations

  Shannon jolted awake. The telegram!

  He looked at the clock next to his bed. Nine-thirty. He'd been asleep nearly two hours. He ran his hands over his face. "Damn it," he muttered. "I'm getting as forgetful as Milford."

  He climbed out of bed, and opened his cornet case. Beneath the velvet lining was a telegram from New York for Indy that had arrived after Shannon had already decided to go to Scotland. He dropped the telegram on the bed, and pulled on his clothes. He had to find Indy, and while he was delivering it, he might as well tell him that Milford had stopped by the flat the same day the telegram had arrived. It had taken him several minutes to convince the old prof that Indy was gone. Even reminding him that Indy had stopped off to say good-bye before he left hadn't helped. But finally Milford had accepted that Indy was gone. He'd babbled something that sounded like a curse in his Middle English and walked out the door.

  Shannon had followed Milford into the hallway, and told him that he was leaving for Scotland himself to see Indy, and did Milford have a message for him? Milford had turned, and considered what Shannon had said.

  "Yes, tell him..." Milford's pale blue eyes had gazed off over his shoulder. "Oh, never mind. I'll tell him myself." It was rather sad. Shannon guessed the reason Milford hadn't given him the message was that it had already slipped his mind.

  He snatched the telegram and headed down to Indy's room. He knocked. Waited. No answer. H
e bent over and started to slide it under the door, but then decided to try Deirdre's room. As he waited, he heard voices coming up the stairway. When no one answered the door, he moved down the hall and peered over the railing.

  Joanna was talking with a man in the alcove at the bottom of the stairs, but Shannon could only see his back. "If you were so interested in finding it, why did you blow up the cave?"

  "That wasn't my doing. That was the work of the good Father Byrne and his young fanatics, who are trying to thwart my efforts as well as yours."

  "I don't believe it."

  "Believe what you like. I need that scroll and I'm going to get it one way or another. Sorry about your rooms, by the way, but I had to make sure you hadn't found it already."

  "Just leave Deirdre alone."

  The man laughed. "If you were so concerned about her life, you should never have tried to outwit me."

  Joanna slapped him hard. His head jerked, and Shannon recognized Adrian Powell.

  "You'll regret that." He walked across the dining room and out the door.

  Joanna nearly ran up the stairs, and Shannon hurried back to his room, closing the door just as Joanna turned the corner. He leaned back against the door. "Damn it. Where the hell's Indy?"

  He held up the telegram. It could be important, and with people breaking into rooms the way they were, he could lose it. He tore it open. INDY—BAD NEWS STOP OMPHALOS STOLEN STOP MARCUS

  Indy wasn't going to like hearing that, but there was a more immediate concern now. He had to find Indy and tell him about Father Byrne. Just then he heard footsteps in the hallway. He cracked the door an inch and saw Joanna as she reached the stairway.

  He jammed the telegram into his pocket, and crept out into the hall. Joanna was crossing the dining room and heading for the door. "Now where the hell is she going?" he muttered and descended the stairs after her.

  Indy felt the pressure of Deirdre's hand on his forearm. It wasn't a squeeze signaling affection, but one of alarm. "You know Adrian, Father?" he asked.

  Byrne motioned with his head toward the village. "Let's go to the rectory, and have a cup of tea and talk."

  "Father, I don't understand," Deirdre said.

  Byrne raised a hand. "Please wait until we get inside so we can talk in a civilized manner." He walked a couple of steps in front of them, as if leading the way. Deirdre looked over at Indy. He shrugged as if to say, what else could they do?

  After a minute or so, Byrne slowed a step. "So what would you do with this gold scroll if you found it?"

  The question surprised Indy. "I haven't really thought much about it. First of all, it wouid be Dr. Campbell's decision. But it's not really a major concern right now. I think Dr. Campbell is bringing the dig to a halt for the time being."

  "It's probably for the better. But all that aside, what would it mean to you to find the scroll?"

  "Well, it would be a startling archaeological discovery. I'd be happy to be part of it."

  "It would change a legend to reality," Deirdre said.

  Indy didn't think that was what Byrne wanted to hear. "To a point. It still wouldn't mean that the man Merlin accomplished all that was said about him."

  Byrne fell silent, and no one said anything until they reached the outskirts of the village. When he spoke, it was as if there had been no break in the conversation. "What if the evidence you found in some way confirmed that Merlin did possess supernatural abilities?"

  The archaeologist shrugged, and wondered why Byrne was so interested in Merlin and the dig. "Like I said, I can't really see that happening."

  "Let's say it did. Wouldn't this change the entire way we look at the world?" the priest persisted. "Would it not give the magician's evil source of power a new life, a new grip on the world?"

  Indy smiled, finally understanding what the old priest was getting at. He was concerned that they might find something which would place a positive light on paganism, the devil's work as he saw it, and therefore denigrate Christianity. "Father, I really wouldn't worry about it. If you want my opinion, that story about Merlin being the son of the devil and a virgin is pure fantasy."

  Byrne laid his hand on the iron gate as they arrived at the rectory next to the church. "Someone has to worry, Professor. Ignoring evil will not make it go away."

  For an instant, Indy saw a glint in the old priest's eyes, something he hadn't seen before, an obsession, a compulsion that said he would stop at nothing to carry out what he saw as his mission. Then the look was gone, and Byrne smiled, opened the gate, and let them pass in front of him.

  They followed a walkway to a two-story brick house, and entered a sitting room where a fire burned low in a stone fireplace. The wooden floor was highly polished and a thick oval rug lay in front of the fireplace. Above the mantle, a crucifix was mounted on the wall.

  "God above, the fire below," Indy commented.

  Byrne stopped and looked at the fireplace as if he were seeing it for the first time. "Some people, through evil intent or just ignorance, might feed the flames of hell, Professor."

  A housekeeper appeared, and Byrne signaled her to bring them cups of tea. Indy was curious about what the priest knew about Powell, and waited for him to begin. When it became apparent that Byrne was waiting for the tea, Deirdre told him what had happened at the rooming house. The priest listened closely, then questioned both of them about the incident until their tea arrived.

  "Now, about Mr. Powell." Byrne stared into his steaming tea and stirred it. His thick white eyebrows were furrowed, and he was slumped in his chair as if he carried a great weight on his shoulders. "I gather you both suspect by now that he is not the man most people think he is. I believe he is here in Whithorn and you can be sure that he is the source of your problems."

  "I knew it," said Deirdre.

  "How do you know him?" Indy asked bluntly.

  Byrne mulled over the question. He took so long to respond that it almost seemed to Indy that he was making up an answer. "In the last ten years I've taken an interest in the various groups of druids in Britain," he began. "We hear lots of stories, and I wanted to find out for myself. Most of these druids are misguided individuals, poor souls who will suffer for their wayward lives. But they are relatively harmless."

  He sipped his tea before he continued. "However, there's one group that I consider very different from the others, and extremely dangerous. They call themselves Hyperboreans."

  "Hyperboreans?" Indy glanced at Deirdre. She looked as amazed as he was.

  "Yes, and Adrian Powell is one of them," Byrne said. "Their leader."

  "Father, what does he want? I was almost killed in the cave, and Indy was nearly drowned."

  Byrne didn't hesitate to answer. "He's after the scroll. Just as you are."

  "So he knows about it, too." Her voice was quiet.

  Byrne cleared his throat, and stared down into his cup of tea. "Years ago, before I knew anything about the Hyperboreans, he came here inquiring about old records that might be related to the legend of Merlin. He was in college at the time and said it was research for a course he was taking. I tried to persuade him to pick another subject, but that only seemed to enhance his interest. Finally, I asked him to leave, but he came back the next day, and for some reason I showed him the letter. Even then I suspected his dabbling was more than just a passing interest, and yet I failed to stop him. The letter only gave him more impetus to pursue his devilry."

  Indy thought it odd that the priest had relented to a college student's curiosity. He wondered if there was more to the story. "What does Powell want, anyhow?"

  "Power. Power to rule, and control. You see, the Hyperboreans are men, and a few women, who are already either powerful or wealthy, or both. They're bankers, generals, lawmakers, and nobility, and they share the goal of stopping the formation of the British Commonwealth. They see it as the first step toward the decay of the British Empire. But stopping the Commonwealth is only the beginning. Powell's ultimate plans are to expand the empir
e and his own power, at whatever cost."

  Indy shook his head, perplexed. "How could he possibly think a gold scroll will help him?"

  Byrne threaded and unthreaded his fingers. "The devil's at his best when his works defy understanding." The old priest stood, and paced in front of them. "My investigation of the Hyperboreans has turned up something interesting. They believe that this scroll has something to do with an ancient, evil stone, and that great power will come to the one who brings the stone and the scroll to Stonehenge."

  "How did you find that out?" Indy asked.

  Byrne ignored him.

  Deirdre shook her head in disbelief. "I wonder if Joanna knows any of this about him?"

  Indy had the feeling Joanna knew a lot about Powell. As soon as they left here, he was going to confront her.

  "Does he think he's going to become Merlin or something?" Deirdre asked.

  "He doesn't want to be a Merlin," Byrne stormed. "He wants to be Adrian Powell, prime minister of England, an England firmly in control of world power, an empire ruled by the agent of evil."

  "What's this stone you mentioned?" Indy asked.

  Just then Joanna appeared in the kitchen doorway. She must have entered through the side door; she'd been listening. "You know very well what it is, Indy. It's the Omphalos. And Adrian already has it."

  Indy's face drained of color, and his jaw slackened. "What are you talking about? It's in a museum in New York."

  Joanna moved into the room. "To be truthful, Indy, the reason I hired you in the first place was directly related to the Omphalos. I was hoping that I could persuade you to work on Marcus Brody to move the stone to a more secure location. But now it's too late."

  "Marcus?"

  "Yes. I've been corresponding with him for the past year. I even went to New York and pleaded with him in person. I told him that as long as the Omphalos was on public display, it was in danger."

  The more Indy found out, the more questions he had. "How did you know Powell was going to steal the Omphalos?"

  "Because I know about the Hyperboreans. I used to be one of them until I saw what Adrian was doing."