Indiana Jones & The Curse Of Rhan: Chapter 2

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Posted by Muppet from modem33.skinner.kingston-internet.net on July 28, 1999 at 16:52:41:

For chapter 1, open my "New Fanfic (Please Read)" post...

Hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think. Now, time to learn a little bit about Louis Belloq:

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Chapter Two: Palma, Majorca, 1954
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"It’s worthless"

"What?"

"Absolutely worthless"

The old man sighed, "I see...so how much?"

"5000 pesetas. Take it or leave it"

"I’ll have to take it" The old man slowly accepted the 5000 pesetas, handed over the item to the tall, slender gentleman dealing with him, and muttered something in Spanish.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you"

"Si, si," muttered the old man, walking away.

Louis Belloq grinned. The item in his hand wasn’t worthless. It was a rarity; evidence of a historic fable that was a clue towards one of history’s myths; the Temple Of Rhan.

This was the stuff of legends. Of glory. Louis Belloq resisted cackling with glee. He was indeed a tall, thin man, with a refined appearance. Only 30 years old, Louis was already more mature than his father had been.

. . .

Louis had been born the son of Rene Belloq and a desperate woman in the depths of Paris. Rene, selfish to the last, had not supported Louis, but this drove Louis to make something of himself. By the time he was 25, Louis was a scholar in archaeology and history. He had even tracked down his father, and - rather than fighting - the two had found a common bond; avarice and selfishness.

The times when they worked together were rare, but the contacts Rene gave his son, the people he introduced him to and the places he told him to go, things he told him to find and sell at the highest price; these were all trademarks of what Louis saw as a great father. Rene had taught Louis to work for only one person; himself, and that had helped Louis throughout the years. Despite his tall, thin figure, Louis was a strong, often violent man, although he preferred any killing - if it was necessary - to be done by someone else.

However, growing up on the streets of Paris, mugging and stealing his way through his teenage years, Louis knew he needed ‘protection’. Something to scare those who weren’t moved by Louis’ words alone.

That was where Kas came in. Kas was a silent, burly-framed man who said little and did plenty. Louis had saved Kas from jail with some smooth-talking and a handful of francs, and Kas had remained resolutely loyal ever since.

Kas was a menace; a fat, glowering beast of a man with shaved black hair, a thick face and a tall, shadowing body. He would just as soon kill as get to know anyone; he did all the ‘dirty little jobs’ like murder and assault that Louis was too refined for.

But Louis always promised himself that one time, he would do the killing. There was one person he wanted dead, one person who had murdered his father. Ever since his father’s disappearance had been ‘officially’ reported by the U.S. government, Louis had clutched at false leads and uptight officials, trying to find out exactly what had happened to Rene.

Louis knew of Rene’s quest to find the Ark of the Covenant. That was all he knew. Had Rene found it? Who knew? If anyone did, they were certainly keeping quiet. But Louis wanted to know who or what had caused his father’s disappearance and death...and when Louis found out, he would kill them. "A killing for a killing" mused Louis.

. . .

At the present time, August 12th, 1954, Kas stood behind Louis on the dockside in Palma, Majorca. In Louis’ hands was the item that the old man had handed over for a pitiful amount of money. Louis knew it was worth more than he paid for it; but that was all part of the game.

"Glorious..." said Louis, holding the item up. It was a round, scroll-like piece of ancient paper; brittle and faded, but still readable. Depicted on it were pictures of temples, strange happenings; what looked like occult gatherings, definitely pictures of worship.

Written above and below each of the pictures was a form of lettering; it was clearly a ‘secret code’; a language only known to a few people, one devised so that whatever message was written on the paper could never unwillingly be deciphered.

Louis knew that the paper told of how to reach the fabled Temple of Rhan. What most sensible archaeologists saw as myth and refused to investigate, Louis had pursued. It was not the fortune and glory that Louis strived, no, it was the sheer power that Rhan represented that Louis desired.

"Did you get it?"

Louis turned to see Grundman; a small, ageing man, resting on a cane. He had greying hair, but a certain vitality that was ever-present.

"Of course I got it"

"I hope you didn’t pay too much...these peasants aren’t worth it" snapped Grundman.

Grundman was a bitter old man. He had been a Nazi Commander, but with the end of the war and with the Third Reich crumbling all around Hitler, Grundman had fled. A self-preservationist to the last, Grundman had used money and contacts to hide his identity. However, his views, his ability to kill in cold blood and his sick enjoyment of doing so were all testament to the fact that no matter how often he changed his name, Grundman was a Nazi.

"I don’t even like it here. I’m sweating. Only peasants sweat" Grundman hissed.

Louis laughed. "My dear commander, relax"

"Relax?"

"This is only the beginning"

"I am sick of waiting! When will we find the Temple of Rhan, Belloq? When?!"

Louis contemplated it. "One year, perhaps two...but we will find it!" he smiled.

"What makes you so sure?" snapped Grundman.

"What makes you so unsure?" countered Louis. "My father was an archaeologist; an explorer and a skilled businessman of the highest order. I modestly claim to possess those skills too..." Louis Belloq exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. "We will find Rhan"

"And will we share what we find?"

Louis didn’t respond.

"I don’t know if I can trust you, Louis"

After a pause, Louis cleared his throat, and said "Do you want to find Rhan?"

Grundman stuttered, confused. "Of course..."

"Well...you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?"

. . .

The Falcon Hotel, Malta. Almost midnight.

Louis Belloq was now asleep. The paper that spoke of the Temple of Rhan was safely locked away inside a leather briefcase, sat atop Louis’ bedside table.

Outside, in the corridor, Kas kept guard. His burly frame obscured the door into Louis’ room, and the silent menace eyed everyone with suspicion; even an innocent-looking 20 year old who passed by.

But right now, that innocent 20 year old was outside, in the gardens of the Falcon Hotel. He was Ernesto, the son of the peasant from whom Louis had bought the Rhan paper.

Ernesto surveyed the walls of the hotel; Louis’ room was the only one with a balcony. This was going to be tricky. Having seen the burly man in the hallway, Ernesto knew he was no match for him. His father wanted the scroll back, but Ernesto wasn’t willing to put his life on the line for it. No, he’d sneak into the room from the balcony and take it back quietly, without a fight.

Ernesto observed the walls of the hotel. Up to the first floor was a wooden panel; thick vines up after that to the third floor and the balcony of the room he was trying to get to. Ernesto easily made it up the shaky wooden panel, then held on to the thick vines as he made his way further up the wall. A few snapped, giving way, but in a
few minutes, he was clambering onto the balcony.

Luckily, the balcony doors leading into the room were open. He could see a man lying on the bed, asleep. It was the same man who his father had told him paid next to nothing for the scroll.

Ernesto crept slowly into the room. He saw nothing, just a suitcase.

The man flinched. Ernesto paused, waiting for the man to go back to sleep. He did, rolling onto his side. Ernesto crept further into the room, he eventually got to the bedside table and the suitcase.

He tried flicking the case open, but it was stuck. Locked. "The old ways are still the best ways" thought Ernesto, taking out a knife and attacking the locks of the briefcase with it. One lock sprang open. Louis Belloq moved.

Quickly, Ernesto flicked the other locked, throwing the case open. He saw the scroll, and snatched it. No time to lose. Ernesto raced back to the balcony.

Louis woke up. Ernesto had almost made it.

"What?!" shouted Louis.

Ernesto, panicking, disappeared from the balcony, crawling back down the vines as fast as he could.

The doors of Louis’ room flew open.

"You idiot! It’s been stolen!"

Kas surveyed the corridor, seeing nothing.

"Not inside, you idiot! Outside!" Louis frantically pointed to the balcony, which Kas raced over to. He saw Ernesto scrambling through the gardens of the hotel, racing towards the town centre.

With a mighty jump, Kas leapt from the balcony, surprisingly agile for such a heavy-set thug. He hit the grass with a thud, but hardly seemed affected. Instead, he immediately set off after Ernesto. He didn’t run; he charged, grunting.

Ernesto ran as fast as he could; he glanced behind to see the hotel in the distance. He saw the burly guard, who had now dropped from the balcony and was stomping through the hotel gardens. Kas pushed his way through the trees and bushes that had taken Ernesto time to get through. He was catching up fast.

Ernesto reached the wall around the hotel. With one majestic leap, he got hold of the top of the wall, starting to haul himself over. Kas was almost there. Ernesto was nearly free. Just as he prepared to
descend the wall on the other side, he felt a hand grab his foot - Kas had caught him, and was pulling him back over the wall.

Ernesto felt himself going backwards. He struggled, and managed to writhe his shoe loose, giving him the opportunity to finally escape. Kas, angered, easily hauled himself over the wall. He stormed after Ernesto, who ducked into an alleyway by the side of a noisy bar. Kas saw this, and followed him down the small alley. And found nothing.

Ernesto had disappeared. Kas grunted, and proceeded slowly down the alley. As he neared the end of the alley, from the trash cans sprang Ernesto, wielding his knife and charging at Kas. Just as the knife was about to jam into Kas’ chest, Kas took hold of Ernesto’s thin hand, shaking the knife loose. Ernesto tried to move. He couldn’t.

"My father didn’t want to sell!" yelled Ernesto, hopelessly trying to say something.

Kas stared at him.

"You promised more!"

Kas didn’t react. He simply stuck out his right hand in a claw shape, and wrapped it around Ernesto’s neck. He started to lift the struggling Ernesto off the ground.

"Please...please..." Ernesto said, finding it harder and harder to speak, to breathe.

Kas kept Ernesto held in the air, until he’d had enough and tightened his grip further. There was a resounding cracking sound as Ernesto’s life was taken from him.

Seeing Ernesto’s arms fall to the side of his body, Kas threw the corpse to the floor and slowly, calmly started to search his clothes. Finding the scroll with the Rhan information on it, Kas pocketed it and turned, walking away as if nothing had happened.

When he returned to the hotel, Louis was relieved to see the scroll in Kas’ hands. "Excellent", grinned Louis. "From now on," he said, "Anybody who gets in our way....we kill"

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Chapter Three Coming Soon...
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