Leaning over his shoulder Lake boomed, “Cocktails!”
“Put up a whole row of them!” said Nora.
“Looks like we’re in with a fast crowd,” said Indiana Jones to Reverend Andrews.
“Well what else is there to do in this shack on a sand bar?” asked Lake to no one in particular.
The Reverend raised his water glass in a mock toast to Indiana. “Good luck to you.”
“Luck has nothing to do with anything,” said Nora as she swiped a glass of champagne off the tray of a fast-moving Chamorros waiter.
“. . . . Honestly,” continued Lake. “Who can name a better time and place for drink?”
“I can,” smiled Nora.
Indiana leaned forward. “Do tell.”
“Out with it!” bellowed Lake as champagne and appetizers arrived for the the table.
“Growing up in Kalgoorlie. . . . “
“Kalgoorlie?” interrupted Reverend Andrews.
“An Australian prospecting town,” answered Indiana. “Very rough and tumble.”
Nora continued, “. . . .the one thing I learned early on was to make my own luck and enjoy it while it lasted.”
“Excellent. So you’re a girl that knows what’s what,” smiled Lake.
“My Dad either owned hotels and saloons or tended bar in them. Eventually he got caught up in the gold fever and went to try his hand at prospecting. I never saw him again.” As Nina spoke she held Indy’s gaze but glanced over at Reverend Andrews as she finished speaking. Indiana glanced back and forth between the two.
“Prospecting is a fool’s venture,” said Lake. He raised his glass. “To making your own luck.”
Indy joined the toast. “. . . .and marking those who do so.”
Reverend Andrews put his elbows up on the table and clasped his hands in front of his chin. “That’s a little cynical.”
Indiana shrugged, gave a rakish grin to Nora. "Maybe I'm just a pushover for the resourceful types.”
Across the room, an elegantly dressed Madam Sinn and her entourage entered the dining. As she crossed the room, she smiled at Indy. Reverend Andrews cracked his knuckles. "And are you also a pushover for the glamorous types?"
“Not particularly,” answered Indy, but he kept his gaze fixed on Sinn. A Navy flyer -- a flushed junior officer with a big loopy smile – broke from a group at the bar. He went to Madam Sinn's table and after an initial exchange, he bent low to say something in her ear. Taking issue with the advance, Sinn's bodyguards rose and reached for the flyer.
Indy pulled back fast from the table. "Excuse me."
One of the bodyguards put a hand on the officer's uniform and the flyer jerked free and went toe-to-toe with the bodyguard, stating "Back off, brother."
Indiana cut in front of the flyer. With his palm down Indy gestured to the other bodyguard to stay back. "Easy now. No trouble here."
Indiana turned back to the flyer. "Trust me. You do not want a problem."
Jeers and catcalls erupted from the bar. Indiana sized up the room and tensed himself. The flyer eyed both bodyguards, Madam Sinn and settled on Indy.
"Good thing I've got to report to a new duty station tomorrow."
Indy nodded. "That's smart thinking. I'll buy you a drink." Indy put his arm on the flyer, nodded to Madam Sinn, and turned away from her table. He gestured for the bartender to set up the young officer.
"Bit of a falling out with your friends from last night?" said Nora as Indy took his seat.
"Those guys are not my buddies. I'm afraid that they're quick to anger and quicker to act."
“That Steward you talk to on the plane says that you’re an archaeologist,” said Reverend Andrews. “What made you take off after those kidnappers last night? You could have been killed.”
Indiana looked hard at the Reverend. He was a strong, broad man in his late thirties. Straight blond hair cut short over cold blue eyes. There was something technical and methodical about the Reverend; better suited as an engineer rather than clergy. Indiana grinned. “It was night-time on Moku'ume'ume. What else can I say?”
"Ha! Enough distractions," said Lake as he threw back yet another drink. "Let's cut to the chase."
Indiana raised his brow as he ate.
"And what chase is that?" asked Reverend Andrews.
"How exactly does a Church go about transferring funds to support its missions abroad?"
Now it was Reverend Andrews turn to stare hard at Lake for several seconds. The room seemed to go quiet.
"Gold coin. Lots of gold coins sewn into my clothing and luggage."
Lake sputtered. "My God. How medieval."
"Not really," said the Reverend. "Gold is universal, liquid and. . . ."
"Heavy, really, really heavy. . . " said Lake.
"A just weight and balance are the Lord's; all the weights of the bag his work," answered the Reverend with a steely edge.
"Proverbs 16:11," said Indiana Jones. Nora sipped her drink and gave Indy a quick wink.
"And who would think to rob a simple Holy man?" asked Reverend Andrews with mock-innocence.
Flustered, Lake stammered.
"Ha!" shouted the Reverend, as he convulsed with laughter. He slapped a heavy hand on the table. "I was just giving you the business."
Lake pulled back, registered the joke and joined in the laughter.
“We use bank letters of credit,” said Reverend Andrews. “It’s quite secure I can assure you. . . .and the sums are not that great. The Church has no desire to see its servants fall prey to thieves. . . . .”
“Like us,” roared Lake. “Go on, say it!”
Last edited by Joe Brody : 06-04-2005 at 11:41 PM.
Again, Andrew’s slapped his hand on the table and continued to laugh so hard that tears ran down his eyes. “If you say so – but remember you said it first, not me.”
As the dinner plates were cleared, several couples took to the floor without waiting for dessert. Lake looked over at Sinn’s table. “You know, Henry, I say at a minimum that starlet owes you a dance.”
“And if not her, then her agent, perhaps,” joked Nora.
Indy cast a rueful eye toward Madam Sinn. “I would like to see how she is holding up, but her crowd is wound a little too tight tonight.”
"Looks like your dance card is empty soldier." said Nora.
Indy extended his hand. "In that case, do you care to dance?"
"My pleasure," responded Nora as she took to her feet.
Lake called out after the couple, "Is someone making her own luck?"
Nora looked back over her shoulder and gave a little shrug as she followed Indy out to the corner by the record player that passed for the dance floor.
Indy placed one hand on Nora's waist and held her cool, strong fingers with the other. She held his gaze with her incredible blue eyes. Smiling, she said, "I'm impressed you knew Kalgoorlie, ever been?"
Indy shook his head. "No, funny coincidence. Kalgoorlie was just profiled in a large feature on Australia in last month's National Geographic."
"Now that is a coincidence." Nora trailed off with a slight smirk, seeming to lose interest in the discussion. She all-too-casually looked about the room as they danced.
Indy pulled Nora closer, cocked his head to catch her eye. "Why are you on this flight?"
Nora looked Indy dead in the eye. "I'm working. I've got to get something to Manila."
Indy grinned. "That's pretty vague."
"That's the best I can do." Now Nora stepped close to Indy to let the dessert cart past. She looked up at him. "And why are you traveling to the Far East?"
"I'm heading to the Himalayans."
"What's in the Himalayans besides a lot of snow?" asked Nora.
Nora laughed. "That's pretty vague too. . . and I bet that's the best you can do, right?"
Indy nodded and Nora pulled away. But she continued to hold Indy's hand. "Catch up with you later?"
Looking hurt, Indy said, "Where you going?"
"I promised Gwen Greives a bed-time game of cards. I'll look you up later, O.K.?" She broke her hold and backed away.
"It'll have to be." Sulking, Indy thrust his hands in this pockets and rejoined the Reverand and Lake.
* * *
Indy sat on his bed, waiting in darkness. When Nora failed to return to either the dining room or the main lobby where several guests adjourned for an after-dinner smoke Indy gave in and retired to his room at eleven. For close to an hour he listened as guests shuffled down the hall, doors unlocked, opened and closed, water coursed through the plumbing, and guests whispered and coughed. After a time, the noise subsided, and Indy began to drift off as a light rain pattered on the roof. Then -- with a fit -- Indy jerked awake. He cast out to get his bearings but froze the instant he looked at the door to his room. The shaft of light that passed under the door was broken by a shadow. Someone stood silently outside, not moving. After a full minute the figure moved silently down the hall, away from the lobby.
Indy went to his door and paused – not hearing any doors opening, he waited long enough for the person to travel to the end of the corridor. Then, with a firm grip, Indy opened the door swiftly and turned into the hall. Empty. Grabbing his fedora, Indy started off in the same direction. As he walked, Indy scanned the rooms on either side for some sign of activity, but all was quiet until he came to the last rooms. There on one side a light with a slight pinkish tint escaped from under a guest room door – and Indy heard the shuffling of at least two people moving about the room. Then Indy heard something unintelligible in Chinese and the light went out. Indy moved to the screen door at the end of the hall. He looked through the screen for some sign of his quarry. Seeing no movement among the dunes, scaevola bushes and imported eucalyptus, Indy put on his hat and stepped outside.
After being in the stuffy hotel, Indy savored the cool wet ocean air and the soft white sand under foot. As with the rest of the island, nuisance Gooney-birds sat everywhere at random intervals. Dismissing the assorted tracks in the sand that went around either end of the hotel wing, Indy took several steps toward the military buildings -- where he saw a figure cross between two structures.
Keeping his distance, Indy shadowed the figure through the light rain. It was close to one o'clock in the morning and there was no one about. All of the windows to the military buildings were dark, except the occasional naked bulb that burned over a random doorway. Finally, the figure paused at the edge of the compound, near one of the hydroponic greenhouses and then moved to cross the large open span of white sand that gave way to the stand of Ironwoods that protected the cable station. Indy moved up to the greenhouse but froze when he saw something move inside. Quickly, he pressed flush with the mesh-screen side of the structure. Through the screen Indy saw a shadowy figure step up to the far wall, intently watching Indy's quarry.
Indy started to step back away from the greenhouse but took a fierce kick to his side that sent him tumbling through the screen wall into a web of cords and plants. From the front of the greenhouse the Watcher grunted, "What the . . . ?"
Partially blinded by sand, Indy tried to climb to his feet but instead he became tangled in the cords suspended from the ceiling to support the plants. The Watcher grabbed Indy by the collar and yanked Indy to his feet. He then landed a powerful right squarely on Indy's jaw. Again, Indy reeled back into the plants. The Watcher kept after Indy. No sooner than Indy hit the ground than the Watcher let loose with a violent kick into Indy's solar plexus. Then in rapid succession the Watcher repeatedly raised Indy's head and punched him back down to the ground.
Beaten, bleeding and dazed Indy could barely register the Watcher as he leaned close to Indy's face. Again he grabbed Indy by the collar and growled, "I don't know who you are or what your game is but if you want to see the end of this flight you mind your own damn business."
With that the Watcher rabbit-punched Indy in the right side of his head and let Indiana hit the ground unconcious.
* * *
A leather-shoed foot thrust under Indy’s shoulder and forcefully flipped him over. Indy’s face first stuck and then tore from the ground. Sick, in pain and blinded by the impossible glare of the morning sun, Indy registered his surroundings. He lay on the ground in the wrecked greenhouse, his face stiff from dried blood and sand. The hot moist air made it hard to breath. Above him stood several silhouettes against the glare.
“How pathetic,” said a figure that Indy recognized as Grieves. Grieves’ voice had a hardness that took Indy by surprise.
Lowering his gaze, Indy tried to pull himself up. He failed after a sharp, lancing pain shot through his bruised – and possibly broken -- ribs. Vainly trying to get up on one elbow, Indy said, “Someone jumped me.”
“A creditor perhaps?” said Grieves sarcastically as he crouched down close to the baffled Indy.
Grieves went smug. “Indiana Jones. I thought Pan Am circulated a memo on you back in the States. I checked with New York and sure enough it seems that you possess the single largest open account – all past due – in the entire Pan American Airways system. . . . . a bill that exceeds that of several countries.”
Lucien Lake laughed. “So my friend is quite a character after all.”
“Quite. It looks like our esteemed Indiana Jones got exactly some of what was coming to him,” said Lake.
“I’m glad I found him here,” said Lake. “Otherwise, I would have missed all the fun again.”
Grieves shook his head with disgust. “Numerous unpaid tickets, an entire unpaid charter in Peru and the theft of a S-42 Seaplane . . . .”
Finally, Indy succeeded in getting up on one elbow. He pointed at Grieves. “Hold on now. I can explain the S-42. I sent a cable to the nearest Pan Am airfield telling them where to pick it up”
“True -- but by the time we reached the plane it had been stripped. My best guess is that my engines are propelling air boats on the Amazon.”
Indy slumped back down. “I’ll get Pan Am its money.”
“Not soon enough for me – I’m boarding the Clipper. I suggest you find a way to get down to the pier.” Grieves turned and picked his way out of the ruins of the greenhouse. “And rest assured, I’ll be circulating a new memo calling attention to your 'Henry Jones' alias.”
Chuckling, Lake reached out to help Indy to is feet, "So what is it my friend, 'Henry' or 'Indiana'?
Accepting the assist, Indy grimaced as he took to his feet. A pensive Nora stood nearby with crossed arms and a concerned expression.
Indiana tried to rub away the caked dried blood with the back of his hand. "What do you guess?"
[Finally, the 'Henry Jones' mystery is resolved.]
Last edited by Joe Brody : 06-06-2005 at 11:13 PM.
I'm just trying the raise the stakes for Indy -- and not to mention increase the level of conflict. I'm no expert on Pan Am's credit policy's in the 1930's but my guess is that if Indiana was able to get credit from the Airline (likely based on his ties to a University), it's conceivably that in the course of one adventure he could rack up some fairly sizeable bills. In my Indy universe the unpaid charter expenses and the theft of the seaplane are references to Indy's exploits immediately prior to his attempt to get the fertility idol. Once Indy got in trouble, I'm assuming a memo would have been circulated to all Pan Am offices warning that Indy was a bad credit. One of my favorite details in Raiders is Indy offering Marcus the trinkets for the ticket to Marrakesh. Travel costs money and that is something that Indy is keenly aware of. . . .so I thought wouldn't it be great to expand on that as a way to show that Indy really is in the hole at the beginning of the film.
Originally Posted by roundshort
Didn't Uncle Sam buy his ticket?
It's not like Eaton and Musgrove could just issue Indy a Corporate American Express card and wish Indy luck -- so my guess is that they advanced a very modest sum (in cash) for Indy's travel expenses and incidentals (note: the cash offered to Marion). And remember, in Chapter 2 I have Indy state to Greives that Eaton/Musgrove don't know Indy's itinerary.
Last edited by Joe Brody : 06-07-2005 at 04:32 PM.
I can buy that, I still wonder why Indy is so secretive about his plans with the U.S. gov.
The leve of Intrigue you have created is very thick, almost like Chandler running us around in circles in L.A. in "The Big Sleep". A reader must look very carefully and pay great attention, lease we miss important clues . . .
Always thought Indy could have moon lighted as a noir style dick.
Keep up the excellent work
I can buy that, I still wonder why Indy is so secretive about his plans with the U.S. gov.
In several respects, Raiders is very much a product of its time, the early 1980's. The portrayal of Major Eaton and Colonel Musgrove as a mean-spirited bully and inept bureaucrat (respectively) in Raiders (see my character summaries for each character for more background) coupled with the Government's decision at the end of the film to break the deal with Brody and keep the Ark is reflective of the post-Vietnam/post-Carter sentiment prevelant in the U.S. at the time, specifically that the government was inept and couldn't be trusted. Obvious cinematic contemporaries from roughly the same time include Close Encounters (the best example because of Speilberg's involvment), China Syndrome, First Blood and (to a lesser extent) The Final Countdown. To a great degree, I intend to stay true to that tone in my fiction. I believe that Indy and Marcus have little faith in the Eaton/Musgrove promise that the Museum will get the Ark -- and take steps to counter such an eventuality (this is consistant with Indy's conduct in the films: (i) having Jock at the ready in the beginning of Raiders, and (ii) ripping out key pages from the Grail Diary in Last Crusade. Jones isn't as clueless as he seems). Accordingly, if I ever write myMarcus Brody: Threat to the Union project, it will begin with Marcus travelling to New York to pay a seemingly innocuous call on a wealthy musuem benefactor, a banker, who also happened to be very influential player in getting Roosevelt elected. While in New York, staying at what I'm calling the Union Preservation Club, Marcus will get caught up in his own adventure while Indy is busy trying to take care of business in Nepal and Egypt. . . .
Originally Posted by roundshort
The level of Intrigue you have created is very thick, almost like Chandler running us around in circles in L.A. in "The Big Sleep". A reader must look very carefully and pay great attention, lease we miss important clues . . .
You nailed me there. You also nailed me on the MacFarlane. At least I didn't slip up and say something like "Indy nosed the Slueth toward the fleeing craft . . . ."
Last edited by Joe Brody : 06-10-2005 at 11:02 AM.
Point taken, but I wonder . . .
If the U.S. was so worried about Hitler and the Nazis, why didn't Indy have a gov agent following him. Seems the U.S. was watching Hitlers movments pretty close in '36 (they had to since they dropped the ball earlier). Speakingof 1st Blood, (John J. Rambo (only in this movie) I feel is the closest thing to a hero even close to Indy, did u see the new DVD that has the never before seen alturnate sucide ending? what a great movie!
As far as we know, Indy has never had any dealings with Nazis before (I have not seen the young Indy movies so I don't know if there is anything here), so I am interested in what happens wit the German agent
Indiana Jones stopped at the greenhouse door. Outside, a small detail of Marines, all with .45 automatic pistols holstered at their sides, stood by at-ease as a tanned Captain and a man in plain clothes conversed with Grieves. An ashen Grieves turned back toward Indiana, “Unfortunately, no one is leaving Midway anytime soon.”
Indy leaned against the doorframe and pressed his left arm across his chest in a vain attempt to master the pain he felt every time he inhaled. “If this is about the greenhouse, I’m pretty sure that I can fix the damage . . . .”
The Captain looked Indy over head-to-toe and asked Greives, “Holy Hell, what happened to him?”
“This is a Manila bound passenger – Henry-Indiana-Jones – I found him . . . He claims to have been jumped here last night”
The man in plain clothes took a step forward. “Henry Jones was the only Pan Am passenger that received a cable yesterday.”
The Captain nodded, took a long drag on his cigarette as he eyed the batted Indy. “Don’t try and tell me that one of my boys did that to you.”
Indy shook his head. “I did not see my attackers, but I’m sure they weren’t Marines.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the guy that beat the tar out of me told me to mind my business for the rest of the flight.”
The Captain took another long drag. “But you say you didn’t see the guy?”
Indy nodded. “That’s right. I got kicked from behind through the wall here and got sand in my eyes. What is this all about?”
“In a second,” the Captain said as he flicked the butt far off into the sand. “What were you doing out here last night anyway?”
Indy glanced over at Nora. “Someone was at my door last night but never knocked. I followed him here.”
“And he attacked you here?” asked Greives.
“No.” Indy gestured toward the cable station. “He kept going out toward those ironwoods.”
Both the Captain and the civilian exchanged glances. The Captain asked, “You can identify the person you saw walking toward the cable station?”
Again Indy shook his head. “No he was well ahead of me the whole time – and it was raining. I just know it was a man.”
Nora stepped forward. “Enough already – what has happened?”
The Captain lit another cigarette. “Last night the cable station’s entire night crew – four men – were murdered.”
Without missing a beat Indy locked eyes with the Captain. “How were they killed?”
The Captain looked over Indy and the other passengers. “Hell, I guess it doesn’t matter to tell you – it’s too crazy actually. Two men were garroted, one had his throat slit and one man was stabbed to death.”
“My God,” said Grieves.
“Was the station damaged?” continued Indy.
The civilian shook his head. “Everything is fine. We’re fully operational.”
“What does this mean for Clipper passengers?” asked Grieves.
“All passengers will be questioned, and then we’ll just have to take it from there.” The Captain turned back to his men. “Take these passengers back to the hotel. We’ll question everyone there individually.”
Grieves started after the officer. “You don’t mean you intend to hold up two Clippers. .. . .?”
The Captain kept smoking and kept walking. “I’ll do what I have to do to figure this out, understood?”
Are you sure he is a Marine Cappy? I am not sure Marines even know what garroted means. Is he MP? I woudl let him use a little more adult language, remeber ToD was PG13. He seems a little wishy-washy, Lets toughen him up, but I am sure he and Indy will be buds!
Nora poured steaming hot water into a small teapot that rested in a large bowl. She kept pouring well after the water spilled over. Seated beside Nora, Gwen Grieves looked skeptical but remained silent. Nora went about the ritual deftly, explaining the importance of steeping the tea for less than a minute. On the far side of the Philippine Clipper’s lounge a weary and hurt Indiana Jones sat watching, impressed with both Nora’s knowledge and the way she – with help from Andy – had hobbled together a more-than-satisfactory makeshift Chinese tea set. With the tea almost ready, Gwen bolted to get Madam Sinn. To the cabin at large, Nora said, “I know it’s almost time for dinner but does anyone want tea?”
Lucien Lake sat with his back to Nora, engaged in a card game with Reverend Andrews. Concentrating on his cards Lake responded simply by signaling Andy for a refill by raising his empty gin glass above his shoulder and giving it a wiggle. Stymied by his half drunk opponent, the good Reverend did not even look up from his cards. The elder Grieves remained buried in a four-day old Manila newspaper.
Gwen returned leading the way for Madam Sinn and her shadow, Yang. Looking up from her preparations, Nora asked, "Madam Sinn, will your other companions be joining us?"
Yang leaned forward. "The men are sleeping. They are not to be disturbed."
Both Yang and Sinn joined Nora and went about inspecting and smelling the actual tealeaves. With a sure fluid motion Nora filled several shot-glass-turned-sniffing cups in one continuous pour. After the initial tasting, Nora shot a smile at Indy after Madam Sinn correctly identified the tea and complemented Nora’s good taste. Yang too acknowledged that the tea was superior -- and was surprised to hear that Nora had purchased such fine tea in San Francisco.
“We can use my set for the remainder of the trip," said Madam Sinn as she turned to Gwen. "It is good that you are learning about tea if you are to be living in Manila.”
From behind his paper, Grieves said, "That's just the half of it. As aviation expands I expect that we'll be traveling all across Asia in the coming years."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "I especially like the flying . . . "
Nora poured the second pot into the cups. "Gwen, it looks like Mr. Jones could use some tea. Could you take him some?"
Grieves lowered his paper. "Gwen. Keep your distance from Mr. Jones. He's not the sort that I would have you associating."
Hearing this, Andy bristled as he served Lake's gin. He extended his tray toward Gwen and asked, "May I?"
Gwen placed the cup on the tray. "Miss Grieves," said Andy as he crossed the cabin. "Let me tell you a story about Indiana Jones."
Indy raised the cup and took a feeble sip. Grieves snorted and raised his paper with a sharp crack.
"Years back I was a steward on the Golden State going from Chicago to Los Angeles. A bit past Rock Island I notice this skinny young man -- traveling with only a satchel -- not eating anything and not going to the dining car. So I corner him -- and sure enough he doesn't have enough money for food. Turns out the only things he's got is a ticket, a brand new diploma from the University of Chicago and a plan to spend a couple of weeks out in the desert exploring some Indian ruins he never got to as a boy."
Andy turned away from Gwen and looked back at Indy who sat unmoving with his tea, slouched down in his seat looking out the window of the plane. "You see this young man had plans and he wasn't going to let the lack of money stop him."
From behind his paper, Grieves said, "This story sounds awfully familiar."
For the first time during the entire flight, Indy showed some sign of life. "And just how did you manage to get us clear of Midway this afternoon?"
Grieves remained silent. Ignoring the exchange, Andy continued. "All Indiana had was a knife, a lighter and an old hat . . . no way was he ready to go into the desert. So I spent every free minute over the next couple of days -- through Des Moines and Topeka -- gathering some food for him and stitching together a pack out of some old tarp and leather lashings."
Indy looked over at Andy. "I still have that pack somewhere."
"Well my hand hurt like Hell," Andy continued. "But the pack was finished by the time we got to El Paso -- where Indy was fixing to get off and take a spur northwest toward the Apache Trail. We're not in the station ten minutes before he corners me saying that he has to stay on the train -- that he had recognized a group of thugs boarding cargo and he knew that they were up to no good."
"Have some tea?" said Nora.
Andy shook his head, cleared his throat and continued. "Spend enough time on a train and pretty soon you hear every lame excuse there is from people looking for a free ride but Indy got the benefit of the doubt because of the stories he had told me on the way down from Chicago. So I called in a favor and when the Conductor came looking for tickets he looked the other way, then I get Indy to point these guys out to me. There were three of them -- a big Indian-looking fella, a heavyset guy with a walrus mustache, and a scroungy mean looking red-headed kid in his early twenties."
"Were they train robbers?" asked Gwen.
"I didn't know what they were up to, but I could see they were trouble. They were all filthy -- like they'd been out in the desert for months -- and the first thing they did was to hit the bottle hard. We were steaming across a big span of desert so Indy wanted to act fast and see what cargo they had loaded onto the train. We headed back into the freight car, found a crowbar and went to work on one of the crates that Indy saw being loaded on to the train."
Andy paused to step aside to let the Clipper's radioman pass through the cabin to go aft to release the plane's antenna for a radio broadcast.
[I’ve got some acknowledgements on this entry. First, I’d like to thank everyone that responded on the Indy Fact Check Thread. And I also have to thank Westford and Minnesota Jones for helping me last year (or earlier this year) track down the Golden State as an accurate Chicago-to-LA train. As it turns out, out of the three such lines the Golden State was the cheapest and would have been the one most likely taken by a young penniless college student.]
Last edited by Joe Brody : 06-17-2005 at 09:58 PM.
I was just rereading, and I am sure that you really don't any ideas, "Critics and new material I don't need" James Bond, whichever one was in Vegas, anyhow,
I always thought it woudl be cool if Indy caught up with Fedora, who was a big influence on him, and saw learnet that Arch. was a pure thing, but some times you need to be financed, hence leading Indy up the hired gun he is in the movies. Just a thought, as always great stories
So, how deep in this sub story line do you plan to go?
It's really just a vignette. Andy Solemn's Golden State story is meant serve a couple of purposes: (i) solidify the Indy/Solemn relationship in the reader's mind, (ii) give the reader a short break from the on-the-plane/off-the-plane cycle I've created, (iii) give some very indirect background for events that will unfold in the next couple of chapters, and (iv) resolve (in some fashion and to a certain degree) a loose end from Last Crusade (I don't like loose ends in the films and its fun to pick ou those threads and try to make something new). The Golden State story will have no direct bearing on the events on the Clipper -- and none of the characters from the Golden State will show-up in this story. My problem right now is that any good vignette is supposed to be characterized with 'delicacy, wit and subtlety' (Websters) and I'm no where near that now -- I just hope to get something written that's serviceable.
A final word on loose-ends, the Pan Am Clipper only goes as far as Manila -- which means that the focus of the story (and Indy's companions) will change significantly with Indy only half way to the Raven. In essence that means that Red Line: Destination Nepal will eventually be a story in two parts: the first part being the journey on the Clipper and the second part that has yet to unfold. Pan Am didn't fly to Nepal, and right now we know that Indy has tickets (obtained by Art Weber) on Britain's Imperial Airlines. We'll have to see how this second stage unfolds. I'll just say this, a certain Shanghai gangster is going to have a MAJOR role in the second half.
Last edited by Joe Brody : 06-22-2005 at 12:25 PM.
“Just as we're ripping into a crate with the crowbar, the baggage man and the Conductor enter the car. The Conductor lights into to me, and the baggage man -- well, he took the trespass into his car pretty personal -- so he jumped Indy and let fly. Indy got a pretty good beating . . . .”
At this Lake chuckled. “Yes this is starting to sound familiar. . . .”
“. . . . but Indy sucked it up and actually started to hold his own against that big mean Irish son-of-a-***** baggage man. The Conductor ended it by taking a cheap shot that put Indy down. All hot, the Conductor said ‘Now what the Hell is going on here?’ Indy pointed at the crate and claimed it held stolen artifacts. The Conductor peeked inside and whistled – he reached into the packing and pulled out a hand painted Mexican clay vase. Problem was it was brand new, cheap junk. The conductor pointed at Indy and said 'No Ticket' and told the baggage man to tie up Indy till the next stop. The Conductor then sent me back to work, saying that if I’m lucky I’ll get to keep my job.”
Andy blackened at the thought of the Conductor’s rebuke. "Mad-as-heck at Indy, I left with my tail between my legs. Later on, I'm working in the dining car and Indy -- still bound -- comes hoping in from the baggage car holding a sack. The sack is stitched closed and inscribed 'The Presidio Mining Company'. Indy -- with this big 'ole wolfish grin -- said 'It was hidden in one of the jars.' It was filled with gold dust. So we go back into the baggage car where the baggage man is sprawled out across the floor. Indy had head-butted the baggage man, knocked him out cold. I cut the bonds to Indy’s feet . . . but the three thugs came busting in. The Conductor had gone and told them that someone had tried to break into one of their crates.
"Indy did not hesitate. He hurled the sack straight into the red-headed punk's gut and then squared off against the other two. Me? I'm no fighter, so I just stand there. The big Indian pulled out a wicked long knife and the guy with the walrus mustache grabbed a plank. Still bound at his writs, Indy took my knife and . . . ."
Grieves lowered his paper in a huff. "Shouldn't you be setting up for dinner?"
Andy stiffened and headed toward the Galley. "Right you are, sir."
"Dad!” said an exasperated Gwen Grieves. “He was nearly finished."
"Well there wasn't really much more to tell," said Indy as he climbed to his feet. "Bottom line, I was young and blundering. I had messed with that gang once before and I jumped to conclusions when I saw them in El Paso. I'm only standing here today because I got lucky . . . . and I got some help from the man that's making our dinner." With that Indy walked out of the cabin, thanking Gwen for the tea as he headed back into the passenger compartment.
Indy settled into a seat and stared at his reflection in the window. It was late afternoon and the sky was a deep dark blue – and there were still some time before the plane touched down in Wake Island. What should have been a relatively short eight hour flight had been pushed back due to the delayed departure from Midway. Indy studied his jaw, which was red and swollen from the beatings he had taken over the last two nights. He reached for his fedora to take a nap when he noticed Gwen Grieves settled into a seat across the aisle. On her lap she had a white canvas Pan American shoulder bag. On top of the bag were several irregular blue-glass orbs.
Curious, Indy asked, “What do you got there?”
Gwen looked up. “Oh, these are glass floats the Japanese use for their fishing nets. My dad and I found them on the beach in Midway. The current carries them all the way from Japan. My Dad says they are good luck. You want one?”
Indy chuckled, touched his sore jaw. “Gwen, I could sure use it – but at the rate I’m going it would be broke by morning.”
Indy perched his fedora low on his brow and settled into sleep.
Indy awoke with a start. Passengers -- from both the rear sleeping compartment and the passenger cabin -- moved forward toward the lounge, where the stewards appeared to be in the middle of breaking down the dinner seating. Indy caught strains of anxious questions ‘did we hit something?’, ‘did an engine stall?’, and ‘what’s wrong?’ Aside from the confusion among the passengers, Indy noted that the flight remained smooth, the drone from the engines constant. As Grieves -- with one hand on Gwen’s shoulder -- sought to calm the group, he kept one eye toward the front of the plane. In seconds one of the pilots made his way aft.
“Are all passengers accounted for and O.K.?” asked the pilot.
Standing on his toes, Grieves counted the crowd. “All passengers are here. . . . and all non-flight staff as well.”
"Should we radio Midway?" asked the pilot.
"Now why would we do that?" snapped Grieves.
"Because on Midway you promised to contact Captain Yorick if any suspicious happened en route to Manila."
"And what exactly did happen?" said an exasperated Grieves.
"I can't say,” said the pilot. “But there's a chance someone just jettisoned something from the afterhatch that hit the tail -- something fairly heavy."
Grieves said, "I refuse to believe that. That thud could have been anything. . ."
"Even at eight thousand feet?" ventured Indiana Jones.
The pilot looked back over his shoulder at another member of the flight crew who had come up behind him. "Ricketts, what do you think?"
The First Engineer, wearing a heavy fur-lined flying suit that looked more like a costume from a Flash Gordon film that a uniform for a flight over the Pacific, spoke up loud enough so that Grieves could hear. "I was strapped in the Throne Room and -- and from the sound of the 'thud' it sure sounded like an impact on the tail to me. I've checked all instruments and gauges and we're running tip-top."
"That's what's important," said Grieves. "I'm not about to risk every person on this plane being detained indefinitely by some paranoid Marine because of some mystery thud. So since the plane appears to be fine, I suggest that everyone get back to stations and get this plane to Wake Island."
The pilot shifted on this feet, “I don’t know Mr. Grieves, I think we should. . . .”
From out of nowhere, Richter interrupted, "Madam Sinn has two trunks stowed in the sleeping compartment."
Yang moved beside Grieves, "The same two trunks that were loaded in the cabin for the flight from Pearl. Surely, Mr. Grieves you appreciate the need for Madam Sinn to maintain her appearance and to have access to her wardrobe?"
"Mr. Richter," said the pilot. “What are you suggesting?"
"Those trunks could hold an object big enough to cause the impact in question. No other passenger had access to such large containers."
“And why would anyone want to jettison something mid-flight?”
Richter leveled his cool grey eyes on Grieves. Condescension cut through his accent. “Obviously, to keep the object from being found in case the plane was later searched.”
"What interesting speculation," said Grieves. "Captain, do you intend to search the whole plane? Or -- late as we are – do you plan on turning around and looking for something floating on the surface?"
The pilot scanned the crowd. Madam Sinn looked expressionless but held the pilot’s gaze. Finally, Yang said, “Captain, you may search Madam’s Sinn’s luggage if it will ease your concerns.”
A red-faced Grieves glared at air crew. The pilot hesitated. “No, that will not be necessary.”
The pilot turned to the engineer. “We’re about an hour from Wake. Have a radio check done and we’ll check out the tail when we land.”
Still not all that happy with the vignette but I sat on it for a few days and it will have to do.
Originally Posted by roundshort
Wow, I did not know that . . .
Hmmm, what am I reminded off "It's hard to live with a price on your head . ." or some quote from Empire. was that on Hoth?
Well, we'll just have to wait and see how this unfolds. And yes, the quote is from the Rebel Command to Solo in the Hanger Bay in Hoth.
A very nice little trip dow memory lane, with Indy showing the proper humbleness, like at the dinner scence in ToD, I really think everyone needs to watch ToD as it really gives us the most about Indy's chacter.
can't wait to read more