The Adventures Of Indiana Jones (57 page)

“Look after me, Indy,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

His hands worked at the belt of her robe. “You looked after yourself pretty well yesterday. For an art historian.”

“You don’t know anything about art historians, Dr. Jones? Do you?”

“I know what I like.”

“I’m glad you do, Indiana Jones.”

She grabbed the hair on the back of his head and pulled his face toward hers. She kissed him long and deep, holding him close to her. Her kiss was so hard that Indy cut his lip on his own tooth.

He rubbed away a drop of blood with the back of his hand. “You’re dangerous.”

“Maybe I am. Just like you.”

Her eyes flashed. She was breathing hard, waiting for him to move. A smile changed the shape of her mouth. Her hair lifted gently in the evening breeze that blew through the open window. Outside, a gondolier was singing.

“Ah, Venice,” Indy said half-aloud and closed the bedroom door.

T
HE
M
ERCEDES
-B
ENZ
Indy had rented glided smoothly around the sharp mountain curves of the Austrian Alps. When they started out, the sky had been crisp, clear, a smooth, even blue. But by late afternoon, as he and Elsa neared the German border and the grounds of the Brunwald Castle, storm clouds climbed the horizon, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

A perfect day for a friendly visit, Indy thought, casting an eye toward Elsa.

She was staring straight ahead along the curving road. Her blond hair was tied back, and the waning light struck the sharp promontories of her face—high cheekbones, that pouty mouth, a straight nose, which was, at the moment, pink at the tip from the cold. He thought back to their passionate lovemaking in Venice and reached out, touching the back of her neck. The skin was cool and dry, and she turned her head, smiling absently, as if she had a lot on her mind.

When this was over, he thought, he and Elsa would . . . well, he didn’t know, he would think of something. She had asked him about the university, its archaeology and art history programs, and hinted that she might like to visit him—who knew what might happen.

He pulled into the courtyard. The place loomed in the windshield, menacing and impregnable. The dark windows on the upper levels revealed nothing; the castle was as impregnable as a block of stone. He wondered which one was his father’s room. Did he even have a room? Maybe he was in chains in a dungeon. Maybe he wasn’t even alive.

No. Bad thought.

This wasn’t the time for bad thoughts. He had no idea how he was going to find out where his father was being held, much less how he was going to rescue him. Maybe he wasn’t even here. Maybe it had simply been a ploy by Kazim to turn him away from the trail of the Grail Cup.

“Here we are,” he said quietly. He felt an all too familiar tingling on the back of his neck, alerting him to danger. Yes, his father was here. He was sure of it.

“Imposing, isn’t it?” she said.

“You know anything about the place?”

“It’s been in the Brunwald family for generations. They’re very powerful in this region, but not particularly well liked.”

He noticed a pond next to the castle; gliding across its surface was a solitary swan. Its long neck was gracefully arched, and its snowflake-white feathers seemed luminous against the pond’s dark waters. He was reminded of the swan in his father’s Grail diary. It represented one of the levels of awareness in the search for the Grail and meant something about overcoming weaknesses of the mind and heart.

Elsa was his weakness. He had quenched his desires like a man who had found an oasis after days in the desert without water. He had taken her greedily, and she had fulfilled his every wish. Why would he, or anyone, want to overcome such pleasures?

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she said softly.

He frowned, hating the idea that his feelings were so obvious.

Elsa brought her hand up under her hair and flicked it off her collar. Indy sensed it was a dismissal of some sort or maybe a signal to just get on with things. He reached into the backseat for his bullwhip, focusing his thoughts on the matter at hand. He attached it to his belt as he got out of the car.

“What’re you going to do?” she asked as they headed toward the castle.

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Indy knocked on the door and waited. Fingers of lightning blazed and sutured the sky. Thunder grumbled almost instantly, and it started to rain. The drops beaded on Elsa’s long, well-tailored coat and glistened.

“Let me borrow your coat, okay?”

“You’re cold?” she drolled.

“Got an idea.”

She shrugged off the coat, and he quickly draped it over his shoulders, covering his leather jacket and bullwhip, just as the heavy wooden door swung open.

A uniformed butler said, “Yes?” in a voice that would have chilled Jell-O.

Indy adopted the haughty manner of an upper-class English barrister and regarded the butler with a properly arrogant expression. “And not before time. Did you intend to leave us standing on the doorstep all day? We’re absolutely drenched.”

As Indy spoke, he pushed his way past the startled butler, pulling Elsa with him. He sneezed. “Now look. I’ve caught a sniffle.”

He dabbed at his nose with a handkerchief as Elsa looked on in amazement.

“Are you expected?” The butler’s voice remained frosty and terse.

“Don’t take that tone with
me,
my good man, just buttle off and tell Baron Brunwald that Lord Clarence Chumley and his assistant are here to view the tapestries.”

“Tapestries?”

Indy looked over at Elsa. “Dear me, the man is dense. Do you think he heard me?”

He looked back at the butler and continued. “This is a castle, isn’t it? You have tapestries?”

“This is a castle, yes. We have tapestries, and if you’re an English lord, I’m Jesse Owens.”

“How dare you!” Indy responded in a stilted, English falsetto, and knocked the man cold with one powerful punch to the jaw.

The butler crumpled to the stone floor like a windup toy that had suddenly run down. Indy brushed his hands together. “The nerve of it!” He was still chattering in his stilted English voice. “Did you hear him speaking to me like that, impugning my breeding, my honor, my gift for impression?”

Elsa laughed and shook her head as she helped him drag the butler to a corner closet. “Unbelievable. Very convincing, my lord.”

Indy dropped his pose, grabbed Elsa’s hand, and tugged her along toward a wide, vaulted hallway. “Okay, let’s get down to business.” He slipped off her coat as they hurried across the foyer. She pulled it on and started to whisper something, but he touched a finger to his mouth.

Voices.

They stopped. He glanced around quickly, and they ducked into an alcove behind a large piece of statuary. They watched as a pair of uniformed Nazi soldiers walked by. One of them laughed loudly at something the other said, and his voice echoed down the hallway.

“S.S., I should have known,” Indy whispered to Elsa as the men disappeared.

They slipped out of their hiding place and continued down the hallway. “Now, where do you suppose they’re holding Dad?”

“The dungeon?”

“Very funny.” Just a little too close to what he’d been thinking.

A servant appeared in the corridor, wheeling a large trolley that contained the remains of a feast. Indy and Elsa ducked behind a staircase and watched. They hadn’t eaten in a few hours, and their eyes widened at the extent of the leftovers. Indy placed a hand over his stomach to keep it from growling. He wondered if it had been his father’s dinner. He hoped so; at least he wouldn’t be starving in his captivity.

They hid for a long time under the stairs. Indy wanted to get a feel for the place. He needed to have some idea of how many people were on the staff, what the routines were, or if there
were
any routines, and if so, how he might use them to his advantage.

He heard thunder rumbling, and rain thrashed against a window above their heads.

Elsa’s stomach growled with hunger.

His own responded.

They looked at each other and laughed silently.

Footsteps on the stairs above them caught Indy’s attention. A servant, escorted by an armed German soldier, descended with a cheap tray. On it was a tin bowl with a metal spoon chained to the bowl.
Dad’s lunch just sailed past.

“Now
that
looked more like a prisoner’s meal,” he whispered as soon as the two were out of sight.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

It was time to act. They stepped out from their hiding place and began to ascend the stairs. But just as they reached the first landing, more Nazis approached. This time they concealed themselves behind a massive pillar and waited until the sharp click of the soldiers’ boots faded away.

They hurried along and, when they reached the next floor, paused and looked both ways. A door stood ajar nearby; Indy heard voices from inside the room. He peeked through the crack; Nazis were busy examining works of art. Looted booty, he thought.

Hitler was interested in amassing as many of Europe’s works of art and primitive artifacts as he could, but not solely for the value of the ancient treasures. Indy was well aware that Hitler had a special interest in obtaining ancient mystical objects that he believed would enhance his power and thus expand his empire.

It was Nazis who had opposed Indy in his pursuit of the Ark of the Covenant. In fact, he had found the Ark only to discover the Führer’s goons waiting to take it away from him. He never understood Hitler’s motives until he experienced the power of the Ark, something he still couldn’t explain. Although he had finally succeeded in getting the Ark to the States, bureaucrats had confiscated the priceless and mysterious artifact. By now he figured it was stored away in a dusty warehouse somewhere, waiting.

He had also heard that Hitler was after the ancient spear that had pierced the side of Jesus Christ. And, no doubt, the leader of the Third Reich would also like to get his hands on the Grail Cup that had held the blood of Jesus. And that, he knew, was why his father was being held captive here.

He backed away from the crack, and he and Elsa moved silently down the corridor. At the end of it were three doors. Indy looked from one to the next, then jabbed his forefinger at the door on the left.

“This one.”

“How do you know?” Elsa whispered.

He pointed to an electrical wire. “Because this one’s wired. I’ll have to find another way in.” He stepped back, studied the situation a moment, then decided to try the adjoining door.

He turned the knob; the door was locked. He reached into the pouch on his belt and took out his lock-picking tool. It seemed a lifetime had passed since he had used it on the captain’s door to get to the safe with the Cross of Coronado. Yet, it had been less than two weeks ago. He slipped the long, slender tool into the lock, fiddled with it a moment, then turned the knob. The door creaked open.

The room was dimly lit and empty except for a bed and dresser. He closed the door again as soon as Elsa was inside.

“What was that?” she asked as he slipped his burglar’s tool back into his pouch.

“A trade secret.”

“Oh, you mean you don’t tell your students about it?” she asked in mock surprise.

“Only the advanced ones,” he said, and walked over to the window.

The rain pounded furiously against the pane. He raised the shade, then the window, and stuck his head out. It was almost dark. The rain splattered against his face, soaking his head. He blinked, clearing his vision. Beneath the window of the next room was a narrow ledge. It ended abruptly several feet away.

Indy pulled his head back into the room and loosened his bullwhip.

“What are you going to do?” Elsa asked.

“Take a shower.”

Elsa looked out the window a moment. “You can’t mean you’re going to . . .” She saw Indy uncoiling the bullwhip from his belt. “I don’t believe it.”

“Watch me. It’s a snap.”

He leaned out the window and flicked the bullwhip at the gargoyle that protruded from the castle wall above the adjoining window. It was a perfect shot; the whip wrapped around the gargoyle’s thick neck. He tugged hard, making sure it would hold his weight.

He swung his leg over the window frame and looked back through the window at Elsa. “Stay there. I won’t be long.”

“Indy, this is crazy. You can’t . . .”

He held up a hand. “Don’t worry. This is kid’s stuff. Be right back.”

Indy swung out from the window, his legs dangling in midair. He was right. It was an easy swing for him, but he hadn’t taken one thing into account. The rain had soaked the ledge, and his feet skidded on the slick surface as he landed. One slipped over the ledge, his knee bent, and he wobbled precariously for an instant. Then he pulled on the whip, and recovered his footing.

Next, he had to figure out a way to open the shutters, which were closed over the window. He jerked on them, but they held tight. He was about to try again when he heard a noise. He looked down and saw two Nazi guards prowling with their dogs and flashlights.