Chapter Five
Indiana Jones drove his rented ‘49 Ford somewhat cautiously through the swirling dust that had surrounded him for the last few miles, courtesy of the army trucks and Jeeps moving up and down the road. From New York to Chicago to St. Louis by DC-3, then by sleek passenger train to Albuquerque and by car to the middle of the desert. Not the most exotic or interesting place he’d been, but he wasn’t here for sightseeing anyway.
New Mexico, like most places these days, was rich in memories. His Aunt Grace and cousin Frank had lived on a ranch here, and he had visited them on occasion during his youth. On one particular spring break, he and Frank had hitchhiked to Mexico to find a bordello, only to be kidnapped by Pancho Villa’s men, sparking a chain of events that led to his involvement in World War I. He wondered sometimes how differently his life might have turned out if a couple of teenage boys hadn’t let their hormones carry them away.
A few years later, before starting college, he had visited them again, and this time gone on a vision quest with a Navajo named Aguila or “Changing Man.” They had hiked up a mesa, and Changing Man had told him to wait there alone until an animal approached him, which from then on would be his spiritual guide. It had taken two days, but finally he had seen an eagle. Since that time the sight of an eagle had sometimes provided encouragement or direction on his adventures. Like his latest adventure, Elaine.
He had run into the Navajo again a few years later and discovered that neither of his names were merely figurative language. The man had the power to transform into an eagle, and who knew what else. Indy had no idea where he was now or even if he was still alive, but always half-expected to run into him when he came back to the American Southwest. He seemed like the kind of person to keep popping up like that.
Indy came back to the present when his vehicle emerged from the cloud as he turned into the small parking lot of Al’s Atomic Diner. It struck him as rather tasteless to capitalize on a weapon of mass destruction as a gimmick for a cheap restaurant. The images of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, obliterated by nuclear bombs, were still vivid in his mind from four years ago. Although he hadn’t actually been there, the photographs of the cities and their inhabitants were nearly enough to put him in a cold sweat.
Still, he couldn’t let his personal misgivings get in the way. He needed to find Elaine sooner than later and the diner looked like a good place to start – this area wasn’t exactly bustling with activity.
Indy entered the diner and brushed the dust off his hat. His ears were instantly greeted by a Hank Williams song from a radio somewhere and the low murmur of conversation from two cowboys and a few enlisted men at various tables. Only the waitress behind the counter, a short and stout woman with poofy orange hair, looked up at his entrance. Giving her a friendly nod, he took a seat and picked up a menu.
“Breakfast?” she asked with little curiosity.
Indy shrugged. He was still looking. Everything on the menu was prefaced by the word “Atomic” or some variant thereof – Atomic Eggs, Atomic Western Omelet, A-Bomb Special.
“Anything ‘Atomic’ has got lots of chili pepper in it,” the waitress said.
Does it also melt people or cause radiation poisoning? Indy wondered. Out loud he said, “I’ll try the omelet.”
“One omelet!” she called over her shoulder to the cook at the kitchen window, who nodded.
Indy handed her the menu and along with it showed her a photo of Elaine. “I’m looking for this woman,” he said.
She eyed the photo carefully and shook her head. The cook strained for a look and Indy held it up to him. He also shook his head. Indy put the photo down on the counter, revealing the man who had been covered by his fingers.
“Never seen her,” the waitress said, “but it looks like she’s a friend of Bob’s.”
“Bob?” Indy said.
“Bob Bolander. Fella in the picture.”
Behind him, the younger of the two cowboys reacted slightly. The older one turned a handsome, weathered face about his own age. Indy didn’t see them.
“Come in often?” he asked the waitress.
“Every day,” she said.
The cook handed her Indy’s omelet and she set it down in front of him. Both of them watched expectantly as he took his first bite. He chewed, waited, chewed some more, and suppressed a smile. This wasn’t nearly what he had anticipated. Of course, he had dined on quite a bit of rare and spicy cuisine elsewhere. He poured some Tabasco sauce over the omelet and took another bite. That was a bit more like it.
The cook raised his eyebrows nearly off of his forehead. The waitress decided to pretend nothing had happened. “Real nice guy,” she continued. “A gal remembers a fella like that – handsome. Polite. Smart.”
Indy started to feel sick and didn’t want to hear any more. “How would I find him?” he demanded a bit too brusquely.
“Easy,” the cook said. He pointed with his thumb. “Just follow them trucks.”
Indy looked out the window at the line of army trucks. Whether this was part of the convoy he had seen on the way in, or a different one, he had no idea. But it didn’t matter. He dropped a bill on the counter and hopped up. “Thanks. Keep the change.”
“You know,” the waitress said, “you’re the second fella in here today asking about him.”
Indy froze in his tracks and turned to look at her. She was looking around the diner for someone, but the only trace of the two cowboys was the money sitting on their table.
She shrugged. “Well, was here.”
***
The ‘49 Ford followed the caravan of military vehicles up a dirt road which had branched off from the main one. They turned past an army checkpoint where two sentries waved the vehicles in. All of them except Indy’s.
“What can we do for you, sir?” a sentry asked, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated he was unwelcome here.
“I’m going to see Robert Bolander,” Indy said. “My name is Colonel Jones.”
The sentry looked him over skeptically.
“Retired,” he clarified. “OSS.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the sentry said, “we’re in the midst of maneuvers. No one’s admitted.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay close to the trucks.”
“It’s too dangerous, sir. We’re shooting live shells.”
They would have to try harder than that. “That’s funny,” Indy said, “I haven’t heard any artillery.”
The sentry was stumped for a moment. Trucks were beginning to back up behind the Ford. The second sentry approached with a no-nonsense look on his face. “I’m sorry sir,” he said, “you’re blocking the way. You’ll have to leave.” His hand hovered over his sidearm.
Indy looked from one man to the other and shrugged. “All right,” he said. “I didn’t really want to see Bob anyway. He’d talk my ears off. Thanks for saving me.” He turned the car around.
Once he had gotten a safe distance away, Indy stopped the car, got out, and trained his binoculars on the convoy as it rolled along the dusty road from the checkpoint and disappeared below the level of a hill. How to get in? There was surely a way. He’d gotten into places more heavily guarded than this. He continued to scan the terrain until his gaze stopped on a horse standing beside a barbed-wire fence. What was it doing out here? Well, for his purposes, that was beside the point.
He made his way down to the horse. It was clearly very tame and not in the least concerned by his approach. For his own part, he was an excellent rider and had been for years. The absence of a saddle would prove no difficulty. The horse barely twitched an ear as he climbed on. “Heigh-ho, Silver,” he said, giving it a smack.
They rode off to what he judged as a sufficient distance, then galloped for the fence. If it was too close, the horse would refuse to jump and he’d just try again. Hopefully.
The horse cleared the fence with no problem and continued without a pause. Indy decided he was quite pleased with it and would try to get it a carrot later. At the edge of a hill he stopped it and dismounted. He needed to make sure the coast was clear to continue, and he wanted to examine the ground. It appeared blackened, scarred. He could see now that a large black streak extended for over a mile until it disappeared beyond the next hill. Curious, but not his primary concern right now.
Indy got back on the horse and followed the streak to that hill, where he stopped once again. Now he could see below him a huge military operation serviced by hundreds of troops. Forklifts loaded wooden crates into the back of transport trucks which lined the road. Generator trailers surrounded the perimeter and machine-gun mounted Jeeps patrolled the hills. In the center of everything, a massive tent was surrounded by smaller tents, with men in white coats entering and leaving every few seconds.
Indy stared at the operation in wonder. What could it all mean?
Whaaaa! came the sound of a spotter plane roaring over his head. He’d forgotten to look up. Seconds later one of the Jeeps roared up behind him. He swung back up onto the horse and galloped off, the Jeep in pursuit.
“I could have planned this better,” he told the horse, realizing he had no idea where they were going. Riding full bore, they came to a ravine ten feet deep and twelve feet wide. The horse cleared it easily. Indy grinned, patted its neck and looked back at the Jeep.
The Jeep cleared it as well. Indy frowned. But there was nothing for it – he put more leg into the horse. They were coming up now on another, clearly wider ravine. The horse jumped again and barely made it, sending bits of rock and sand skittering into the abyss.
Indy looked back once more. This time, the Jeep did not make it. It plowed grille-first into the side of the cut and sent the soldiers inside bouncing around. Indy grinned more broadly than ever, but just as he was about to slow the horse down, two more Jeeps fell in behind him.
“Aw, hell, can’t you give a guy a break?” he muttered.
A third ravine was coming up now. It was larger than the first two. Much larger. As they approached it seemed to stretch on forever. He wound his hands around the horse’s mane and prepared for the impossible. Not impossible, really. He’d done more impossible things than this. Suddenly the horse pulled itself to a stop and he nearly lost his hat.
Indy looked back at the quickly approaching Jeeps. “C’mon,” he hissed in the horse’s ear, “you can do it.” He circled back to try again and gave the horse a kick. They charged toward the gap once more –
And Indy pulled the horse to a stop inches from the chasm’s edge. Rocks tumbled down into it, about seventy-five feet to the bottom.
“You were right the first time,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. Better make that two carrots. But when he’d be able to do that he wasn’t sure, because the Jeeps had caught up to him. He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he said. “You boys win this round.”
He dismounted as an MP got out of one vehicle and approached. Indy extended his hands so they could be cuffed – now that his advantage was gone, he felt it best to cooperate with soldiers of his own nation – but the MP hit him in the neck with a needle instead. Before he could react, his vision blurred and faded to nothing. It was the fastest-acting stuff he had ever been injected with.
Before his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, he was already out cold.
***
The first thing he saw on awakening was Bob Bolander. It made him wish he were unconscious again.
Indy sat across from him in a military tent, with two MPs flanking the chair that held him. Life size, in color and up close, Bolander was twice as handsome as his photograph, but the thin hard line that now formed his mouth made him quite an unpleasant specter. “You are a very difficult person to get rid of, Dr. Jones,” he said.
Indy tried to shake the cobwebs out of his brain. One thing was still fresh in his mind, however. “What’ve you done with her, Bolander?” he demanded.
Bolander’s expression did not change. “Elaine said you were stubborn.”
Indy leaped to his feet. The rush of blood to his head left him disoriented and made him regret it, but it wouldn’t stop him from squeezing the miserable bastard’s throat until –
“Dr. McGregor is safe,” another voice said. A tough-looking General in his late fifties, clearly a veteran of the latest war and possibly the one before that, stepped into the light. “She is working on a project for the government,” he continued, and extended a hand. “Ralph McIntire, Colonel Jones. United States Army.”
Indy accepted the proffered hand with his own, still cuffed, and without enthusiasm. “When can I see her?” he demanded.
“The first thing we have to establish,” said Bolander, who hadn’t flinched, “is what have you seen?”
Indy saw no reason to lie. “Skid marks, mile, mile and a half long. If I had to make a guess I’d say there’s been some kind of aircraft crash... high altitude, probably Russian.”
General McIntyre raised an eyebrow. “How would you know it was Russian?”
Indy shrugged. “Why else would you need a linguist at a crash site?”
Bolander and the General exchanged a look. Bolander’s mouth had softened a bit. He was concerned about something. “Dr. Jones,” he said, “you’ve put us in a very difficult situation.”
“My condolences,” Indy said. “I want to see her.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. This is a top secret oper–”
Indy sprang forward and wrapped his handcuffs around Bolander’s neck before the two MPs could draw their weapons. The General raised a hand and stopped them from shooting him.
“I didn’t come to listen to you tell me about your problems, Bolander,” Indy snarled. “I want to see Elaine.”
“I think that’s a reasonable request,” the General said. “First, let him go.”
Indy let go of Bolander and held out his cuffs to be unlocked. Instead, one of the M.P.s hit him with a blackjack.
***
“Oh. Indy...”
Elaine’s voice jarred him back to consciousness as nothing else could have at this point. He blinked awake to find her staring at him, her hand stroking his head. He was no longer handcuffed and was stretched out on a cot in another tent. His gun was gone, but he still had his bullwhip. She smiled to see him awake.
“Elaine,” he gasped. He tried to sit up, but fell back, feeling the knot in his head.
“No, stay down and listen,” she said, patting him gently. Then a trace of anger crept into her voice. “You shouldn’t have followed me here.”
“No?” Indy said in mock surprise. “Someone kidnaps you from our wedding, and you just expect me to wait till you get home?”
Elaine sighed and massaged her brows wearily. “Oh, Indy,” she said, “there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Indy smiled in spite of himself. “It’s okay, honey. I know you’re a spy. Been there.”
“I’m not a spy,” she said, slightly annoyed, “I’m a specialist, and – how did you find out?”
“I did some poking around,” Indy said. He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “You could’ve told me.”
Elaine put her hands on her hips and assumed a defensive position. “You didn’t tell me you were a spy during the war. Both wars, actually.”
“Well, I –” Indy frowned. “How did you know that?”
“I had you checked,” she said smugly, batting her eyelashes. “What kind of person would marry someone and not know who they’re marrying?”
Indy grimaced at the echo of his father’s words. Who, indeed? And what had he gotten himself into now?
“Indy,” she said, kneeling down at the bedside and taking his hand, “I wanted to tell you what was happening, but I couldn’t. There wasn’t time, and even if I could – it was better if I just left.”
Looking into those gorgeous eyes, Indy softened and wanted to let it all go. But he couldn’t, not after the worry she’d put him through. “A downed Soviet plane is more important than our wedding?”
She blinked at him. “A Soviet – is that what they’ve told you?”
“They didn’t have to tell me. I saw the site and –”
Without another word Elaine got up and went to the entrance of the tent. “You there!” she commanded an MP beyond Indy’s range of vision. “Get General McIntyre and Mr. Bolander immediately.” The MP moved off quickly. She returned to her fiancé’s side once more. “Indy,” she said softly, “you have to believe me. I would not have left my own wedding unless I felt something was so great that it threatened the lives of everyone I love.”
This whole situation was beginning to get very familiar. He had gotten himself into something big, very big, which was about normal for his excursions. But he didn’t care for any of that now – he just wanted to be with Elaine. “Does that mean you won’t come back with me?”
Her face fell. “I can’t,” she said. Then it rose again just as quickly. “But,” she said, “I have a wonderful idea.” She looked up at Bolander and McIntyre as they entered the tent. Without wasting time she said, “I need Dr. Jones to remain and work on the project with me.”
Indy and Bolander reacted in unison. “What? No!”
“Bob,” Elaine said to Bolander, ignoring Indy, “I need him to help me with the codes.”
“Dr. Jones isn’t cleared for this operation,” Bolander insisted haughtily.
“I don’t want to help you,” Indy told Elaine.
“Indy, will you stay out of this!” she snapped.
“Elaine!” Bolander thundered. “May I remind you that you have taken an oath of secrecy.”
She threw up her hands. “So, shoot me. This is a scientific discovery of epic proportions and you’re treating it like a breach of national security.”
The General regarded the three arguers with bemusement.
Indy managed to sit up in bed. “Since when did a plane crash qualify as a scientific discovery?”
Elaine tensed her hands slightly in exasperation. “Indy, will you listen to me,” she said. “This is not about a plane crash.”
Bolander moved to her side and took her hand. “No, Elaine,” he said, “I think you should listen to Dr. Jones. He is absolutely right. He has no interest here. He didn’t come to become involved, and he wants to leave. Isn’t that right, Dr. Jones?”
Indy stared at Bolander and Elaine, at his hand on hers, which she had not removed. He did not like the proximity between them. He didn’t know what was going on here, but he knew one thing for damn sure – he wasn’t going to let this creep get between him and his fiancee.
“No,” he said.
Only a blink betrayed Bolander’s surprise. “Excuse me?”
“No. On second thought,” Indy said, stretching and rising to his feet, “I think it’s an excellent idea.”
Elaine beamed. The General smirked. Bolander looked stunned and more than a little perturbed. “Dr. Jones,” he stammered, “that’s quite commendable of you but in all honesty, with your background, well, I don’t think you would qualify for top security clearance.”
Finally, the General spoke. “Bolander,” he said, “if this man can help us get to the bottom of this thing, he’s got my approval.” He turned to Indy and extended his hand once again. “Colonel Jones, glad to have you aboard. Let’s get you up to speed.”
"Thanks. Can I get my gun back?"
"We'll see." The General and Elaine led Indy out of the tent with Bolander in the rear, fuming silently. Still suffering a bit from fatigue and the drug he’d been injected with earlier, Indy’s eyes seared with pain at the sunlight reflecting off the desert sand. He blinked rapidly and managed to adjust in a few seconds.
“There is one more piece of business,” General McIntyre added. “The oath.”
“The oath?” Indy said.
“The loyalty oath, Indy,” Elaine said. “It’s mandatory.”
This sort of treatment for a retired Colonel who’d probably risked his life for this country more times than everyone else on this base put together! “Since when did –”
“Spies, Colonel Jones,” the General said sadly. “I’m afraid the Russians are everywhere.”
“Already,” put in Bolander, “intelligence sources say that Soviet operatives are in the southwest. We’ve been fortunate up to now. We can’t take chances.” His tone of voice indicated that as far as he was concerned, Indy was about as welcome here as a Soviet operative.
They stopped in front of another tent. The General raised his hand. “Repeat after me: ‘I solemnly swear that the things I am about to witness will remain secret, so help me God.’”
Indy raised his hand. “I do solemnly solemnly swear that the things I am about to witness will remain secret, so help me God.” He began to lower his hand, but the General continued.
“‘I swear allegiance to the United States of America and promise to uphold her values against all powers who threaten her.’”
“I swear allegiance to the United States of America and promise to uphold her values against all powers who threaten her.” The General was finished, so Indy lowered his hand. He gave Elaine a look as if to say “Happy now?”
The General was; he beamed with satisfaction. “Excellent,” he said. “I knew we could count on you, Colonel Jones. To tell you the truth, I think only the first half of that oath is strictly necessary. The Commies would never say it; they’re all atheists.” He opened the flap of the tent. “Prepare yourself, Colonel Jones.”
Next: Chapter Six
New Mexico, like most places these days, was rich in memories. His Aunt Grace and cousin Frank had lived on a ranch here, and he had visited them on occasion during his youth. On one particular spring break, he and Frank had hitchhiked to Mexico to find a bordello, only to be kidnapped by Pancho Villa’s men, sparking a chain of events that led to his involvement in World War I. He wondered sometimes how differently his life might have turned out if a couple of teenage boys hadn’t let their hormones carry them away.
A few years later, before starting college, he had visited them again, and this time gone on a vision quest with a Navajo named Aguila or “Changing Man.” They had hiked up a mesa, and Changing Man had told him to wait there alone until an animal approached him, which from then on would be his spiritual guide. It had taken two days, but finally he had seen an eagle. Since that time the sight of an eagle had sometimes provided encouragement or direction on his adventures. Like his latest adventure, Elaine.
He had run into the Navajo again a few years later and discovered that neither of his names were merely figurative language. The man had the power to transform into an eagle, and who knew what else. Indy had no idea where he was now or even if he was still alive, but always half-expected to run into him when he came back to the American Southwest. He seemed like the kind of person to keep popping up like that.
Indy came back to the present when his vehicle emerged from the cloud as he turned into the small parking lot of Al’s Atomic Diner. It struck him as rather tasteless to capitalize on a weapon of mass destruction as a gimmick for a cheap restaurant. The images of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, obliterated by nuclear bombs, were still vivid in his mind from four years ago. Although he hadn’t actually been there, the photographs of the cities and their inhabitants were nearly enough to put him in a cold sweat.
Still, he couldn’t let his personal misgivings get in the way. He needed to find Elaine sooner than later and the diner looked like a good place to start – this area wasn’t exactly bustling with activity.
Indy entered the diner and brushed the dust off his hat. His ears were instantly greeted by a Hank Williams song from a radio somewhere and the low murmur of conversation from two cowboys and a few enlisted men at various tables. Only the waitress behind the counter, a short and stout woman with poofy orange hair, looked up at his entrance. Giving her a friendly nod, he took a seat and picked up a menu.
“Breakfast?” she asked with little curiosity.
Indy shrugged. He was still looking. Everything on the menu was prefaced by the word “Atomic” or some variant thereof – Atomic Eggs, Atomic Western Omelet, A-Bomb Special.
“Anything ‘Atomic’ has got lots of chili pepper in it,” the waitress said.
Does it also melt people or cause radiation poisoning? Indy wondered. Out loud he said, “I’ll try the omelet.”
“One omelet!” she called over her shoulder to the cook at the kitchen window, who nodded.
Indy handed her the menu and along with it showed her a photo of Elaine. “I’m looking for this woman,” he said.
She eyed the photo carefully and shook her head. The cook strained for a look and Indy held it up to him. He also shook his head. Indy put the photo down on the counter, revealing the man who had been covered by his fingers.
“Never seen her,” the waitress said, “but it looks like she’s a friend of Bob’s.”
“Bob?” Indy said.
“Bob Bolander. Fella in the picture.”
Behind him, the younger of the two cowboys reacted slightly. The older one turned a handsome, weathered face about his own age. Indy didn’t see them.
“Come in often?” he asked the waitress.
“Every day,” she said.
The cook handed her Indy’s omelet and she set it down in front of him. Both of them watched expectantly as he took his first bite. He chewed, waited, chewed some more, and suppressed a smile. This wasn’t nearly what he had anticipated. Of course, he had dined on quite a bit of rare and spicy cuisine elsewhere. He poured some Tabasco sauce over the omelet and took another bite. That was a bit more like it.
The cook raised his eyebrows nearly off of his forehead. The waitress decided to pretend nothing had happened. “Real nice guy,” she continued. “A gal remembers a fella like that – handsome. Polite. Smart.”
Indy started to feel sick and didn’t want to hear any more. “How would I find him?” he demanded a bit too brusquely.
“Easy,” the cook said. He pointed with his thumb. “Just follow them trucks.”
Indy looked out the window at the line of army trucks. Whether this was part of the convoy he had seen on the way in, or a different one, he had no idea. But it didn’t matter. He dropped a bill on the counter and hopped up. “Thanks. Keep the change.”
“You know,” the waitress said, “you’re the second fella in here today asking about him.”
Indy froze in his tracks and turned to look at her. She was looking around the diner for someone, but the only trace of the two cowboys was the money sitting on their table.
She shrugged. “Well, was here.”
***
The ‘49 Ford followed the caravan of military vehicles up a dirt road which had branched off from the main one. They turned past an army checkpoint where two sentries waved the vehicles in. All of them except Indy’s.
“What can we do for you, sir?” a sentry asked, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated he was unwelcome here.
“I’m going to see Robert Bolander,” Indy said. “My name is Colonel Jones.”
The sentry looked him over skeptically.
“Retired,” he clarified. “OSS.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the sentry said, “we’re in the midst of maneuvers. No one’s admitted.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay close to the trucks.”
“It’s too dangerous, sir. We’re shooting live shells.”
They would have to try harder than that. “That’s funny,” Indy said, “I haven’t heard any artillery.”
The sentry was stumped for a moment. Trucks were beginning to back up behind the Ford. The second sentry approached with a no-nonsense look on his face. “I’m sorry sir,” he said, “you’re blocking the way. You’ll have to leave.” His hand hovered over his sidearm.
Indy looked from one man to the other and shrugged. “All right,” he said. “I didn’t really want to see Bob anyway. He’d talk my ears off. Thanks for saving me.” He turned the car around.
Once he had gotten a safe distance away, Indy stopped the car, got out, and trained his binoculars on the convoy as it rolled along the dusty road from the checkpoint and disappeared below the level of a hill. How to get in? There was surely a way. He’d gotten into places more heavily guarded than this. He continued to scan the terrain until his gaze stopped on a horse standing beside a barbed-wire fence. What was it doing out here? Well, for his purposes, that was beside the point.
He made his way down to the horse. It was clearly very tame and not in the least concerned by his approach. For his own part, he was an excellent rider and had been for years. The absence of a saddle would prove no difficulty. The horse barely twitched an ear as he climbed on. “Heigh-ho, Silver,” he said, giving it a smack.
They rode off to what he judged as a sufficient distance, then galloped for the fence. If it was too close, the horse would refuse to jump and he’d just try again. Hopefully.
The horse cleared the fence with no problem and continued without a pause. Indy decided he was quite pleased with it and would try to get it a carrot later. At the edge of a hill he stopped it and dismounted. He needed to make sure the coast was clear to continue, and he wanted to examine the ground. It appeared blackened, scarred. He could see now that a large black streak extended for over a mile until it disappeared beyond the next hill. Curious, but not his primary concern right now.
Indy got back on the horse and followed the streak to that hill, where he stopped once again. Now he could see below him a huge military operation serviced by hundreds of troops. Forklifts loaded wooden crates into the back of transport trucks which lined the road. Generator trailers surrounded the perimeter and machine-gun mounted Jeeps patrolled the hills. In the center of everything, a massive tent was surrounded by smaller tents, with men in white coats entering and leaving every few seconds.
Indy stared at the operation in wonder. What could it all mean?
Whaaaa! came the sound of a spotter plane roaring over his head. He’d forgotten to look up. Seconds later one of the Jeeps roared up behind him. He swung back up onto the horse and galloped off, the Jeep in pursuit.
“I could have planned this better,” he told the horse, realizing he had no idea where they were going. Riding full bore, they came to a ravine ten feet deep and twelve feet wide. The horse cleared it easily. Indy grinned, patted its neck and looked back at the Jeep.
The Jeep cleared it as well. Indy frowned. But there was nothing for it – he put more leg into the horse. They were coming up now on another, clearly wider ravine. The horse jumped again and barely made it, sending bits of rock and sand skittering into the abyss.
Indy looked back once more. This time, the Jeep did not make it. It plowed grille-first into the side of the cut and sent the soldiers inside bouncing around. Indy grinned more broadly than ever, but just as he was about to slow the horse down, two more Jeeps fell in behind him.
“Aw, hell, can’t you give a guy a break?” he muttered.
A third ravine was coming up now. It was larger than the first two. Much larger. As they approached it seemed to stretch on forever. He wound his hands around the horse’s mane and prepared for the impossible. Not impossible, really. He’d done more impossible things than this. Suddenly the horse pulled itself to a stop and he nearly lost his hat.
Indy looked back at the quickly approaching Jeeps. “C’mon,” he hissed in the horse’s ear, “you can do it.” He circled back to try again and gave the horse a kick. They charged toward the gap once more –
And Indy pulled the horse to a stop inches from the chasm’s edge. Rocks tumbled down into it, about seventy-five feet to the bottom.
“You were right the first time,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. Better make that two carrots. But when he’d be able to do that he wasn’t sure, because the Jeeps had caught up to him. He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he said. “You boys win this round.”
He dismounted as an MP got out of one vehicle and approached. Indy extended his hands so they could be cuffed – now that his advantage was gone, he felt it best to cooperate with soldiers of his own nation – but the MP hit him in the neck with a needle instead. Before he could react, his vision blurred and faded to nothing. It was the fastest-acting stuff he had ever been injected with.
Before his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, he was already out cold.
***
The first thing he saw on awakening was Bob Bolander. It made him wish he were unconscious again.
Indy sat across from him in a military tent, with two MPs flanking the chair that held him. Life size, in color and up close, Bolander was twice as handsome as his photograph, but the thin hard line that now formed his mouth made him quite an unpleasant specter. “You are a very difficult person to get rid of, Dr. Jones,” he said.
Indy tried to shake the cobwebs out of his brain. One thing was still fresh in his mind, however. “What’ve you done with her, Bolander?” he demanded.
Bolander’s expression did not change. “Elaine said you were stubborn.”
Indy leaped to his feet. The rush of blood to his head left him disoriented and made him regret it, but it wouldn’t stop him from squeezing the miserable bastard’s throat until –
“Dr. McGregor is safe,” another voice said. A tough-looking General in his late fifties, clearly a veteran of the latest war and possibly the one before that, stepped into the light. “She is working on a project for the government,” he continued, and extended a hand. “Ralph McIntire, Colonel Jones. United States Army.”
Indy accepted the proffered hand with his own, still cuffed, and without enthusiasm. “When can I see her?” he demanded.
“The first thing we have to establish,” said Bolander, who hadn’t flinched, “is what have you seen?”
Indy saw no reason to lie. “Skid marks, mile, mile and a half long. If I had to make a guess I’d say there’s been some kind of aircraft crash... high altitude, probably Russian.”
General McIntyre raised an eyebrow. “How would you know it was Russian?”
Indy shrugged. “Why else would you need a linguist at a crash site?”
Bolander and the General exchanged a look. Bolander’s mouth had softened a bit. He was concerned about something. “Dr. Jones,” he said, “you’ve put us in a very difficult situation.”
“My condolences,” Indy said. “I want to see her.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. This is a top secret oper–”
Indy sprang forward and wrapped his handcuffs around Bolander’s neck before the two MPs could draw their weapons. The General raised a hand and stopped them from shooting him.
“I didn’t come to listen to you tell me about your problems, Bolander,” Indy snarled. “I want to see Elaine.”
“I think that’s a reasonable request,” the General said. “First, let him go.”
Indy let go of Bolander and held out his cuffs to be unlocked. Instead, one of the M.P.s hit him with a blackjack.
***
“Oh. Indy...”
Elaine’s voice jarred him back to consciousness as nothing else could have at this point. He blinked awake to find her staring at him, her hand stroking his head. He was no longer handcuffed and was stretched out on a cot in another tent. His gun was gone, but he still had his bullwhip. She smiled to see him awake.
“Elaine,” he gasped. He tried to sit up, but fell back, feeling the knot in his head.
“No, stay down and listen,” she said, patting him gently. Then a trace of anger crept into her voice. “You shouldn’t have followed me here.”
“No?” Indy said in mock surprise. “Someone kidnaps you from our wedding, and you just expect me to wait till you get home?”
Elaine sighed and massaged her brows wearily. “Oh, Indy,” she said, “there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Indy smiled in spite of himself. “It’s okay, honey. I know you’re a spy. Been there.”
“I’m not a spy,” she said, slightly annoyed, “I’m a specialist, and – how did you find out?”
“I did some poking around,” Indy said. He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “You could’ve told me.”
Elaine put her hands on her hips and assumed a defensive position. “You didn’t tell me you were a spy during the war. Both wars, actually.”
“Well, I –” Indy frowned. “How did you know that?”
“I had you checked,” she said smugly, batting her eyelashes. “What kind of person would marry someone and not know who they’re marrying?”
Indy grimaced at the echo of his father’s words. Who, indeed? And what had he gotten himself into now?
“Indy,” she said, kneeling down at the bedside and taking his hand, “I wanted to tell you what was happening, but I couldn’t. There wasn’t time, and even if I could – it was better if I just left.”
Looking into those gorgeous eyes, Indy softened and wanted to let it all go. But he couldn’t, not after the worry she’d put him through. “A downed Soviet plane is more important than our wedding?”
She blinked at him. “A Soviet – is that what they’ve told you?”
“They didn’t have to tell me. I saw the site and –”
Without another word Elaine got up and went to the entrance of the tent. “You there!” she commanded an MP beyond Indy’s range of vision. “Get General McIntyre and Mr. Bolander immediately.” The MP moved off quickly. She returned to her fiancé’s side once more. “Indy,” she said softly, “you have to believe me. I would not have left my own wedding unless I felt something was so great that it threatened the lives of everyone I love.”
This whole situation was beginning to get very familiar. He had gotten himself into something big, very big, which was about normal for his excursions. But he didn’t care for any of that now – he just wanted to be with Elaine. “Does that mean you won’t come back with me?”
Her face fell. “I can’t,” she said. Then it rose again just as quickly. “But,” she said, “I have a wonderful idea.” She looked up at Bolander and McIntyre as they entered the tent. Without wasting time she said, “I need Dr. Jones to remain and work on the project with me.”
Indy and Bolander reacted in unison. “What? No!”
“Bob,” Elaine said to Bolander, ignoring Indy, “I need him to help me with the codes.”
“Dr. Jones isn’t cleared for this operation,” Bolander insisted haughtily.
“I don’t want to help you,” Indy told Elaine.
“Indy, will you stay out of this!” she snapped.
“Elaine!” Bolander thundered. “May I remind you that you have taken an oath of secrecy.”
She threw up her hands. “So, shoot me. This is a scientific discovery of epic proportions and you’re treating it like a breach of national security.”
The General regarded the three arguers with bemusement.
Indy managed to sit up in bed. “Since when did a plane crash qualify as a scientific discovery?”
Elaine tensed her hands slightly in exasperation. “Indy, will you listen to me,” she said. “This is not about a plane crash.”
Bolander moved to her side and took her hand. “No, Elaine,” he said, “I think you should listen to Dr. Jones. He is absolutely right. He has no interest here. He didn’t come to become involved, and he wants to leave. Isn’t that right, Dr. Jones?”
Indy stared at Bolander and Elaine, at his hand on hers, which she had not removed. He did not like the proximity between them. He didn’t know what was going on here, but he knew one thing for damn sure – he wasn’t going to let this creep get between him and his fiancee.
“No,” he said.
Only a blink betrayed Bolander’s surprise. “Excuse me?”
“No. On second thought,” Indy said, stretching and rising to his feet, “I think it’s an excellent idea.”
Elaine beamed. The General smirked. Bolander looked stunned and more than a little perturbed. “Dr. Jones,” he stammered, “that’s quite commendable of you but in all honesty, with your background, well, I don’t think you would qualify for top security clearance.”
Finally, the General spoke. “Bolander,” he said, “if this man can help us get to the bottom of this thing, he’s got my approval.” He turned to Indy and extended his hand once again. “Colonel Jones, glad to have you aboard. Let’s get you up to speed.”
"Thanks. Can I get my gun back?"
"We'll see." The General and Elaine led Indy out of the tent with Bolander in the rear, fuming silently. Still suffering a bit from fatigue and the drug he’d been injected with earlier, Indy’s eyes seared with pain at the sunlight reflecting off the desert sand. He blinked rapidly and managed to adjust in a few seconds.
“There is one more piece of business,” General McIntyre added. “The oath.”
“The oath?” Indy said.
“The loyalty oath, Indy,” Elaine said. “It’s mandatory.”
This sort of treatment for a retired Colonel who’d probably risked his life for this country more times than everyone else on this base put together! “Since when did –”
“Spies, Colonel Jones,” the General said sadly. “I’m afraid the Russians are everywhere.”
“Already,” put in Bolander, “intelligence sources say that Soviet operatives are in the southwest. We’ve been fortunate up to now. We can’t take chances.” His tone of voice indicated that as far as he was concerned, Indy was about as welcome here as a Soviet operative.
They stopped in front of another tent. The General raised his hand. “Repeat after me: ‘I solemnly swear that the things I am about to witness will remain secret, so help me God.’”
Indy raised his hand. “I do solemnly solemnly swear that the things I am about to witness will remain secret, so help me God.” He began to lower his hand, but the General continued.
“‘I swear allegiance to the United States of America and promise to uphold her values against all powers who threaten her.’”
“I swear allegiance to the United States of America and promise to uphold her values against all powers who threaten her.” The General was finished, so Indy lowered his hand. He gave Elaine a look as if to say “Happy now?”
The General was; he beamed with satisfaction. “Excellent,” he said. “I knew we could count on you, Colonel Jones. To tell you the truth, I think only the first half of that oath is strictly necessary. The Commies would never say it; they’re all atheists.” He opened the flap of the tent. “Prepare yourself, Colonel Jones.”
Next: Chapter Six