Chapter 10 of Indiana Jones and the Golden Spider

Posted by Goodsport from adsl-216-102-199-185.dsl.snfc21.pacbell.net on June 23, 2000 at 03:11:56:

Chapter 10 - Deeper and Deeper

BELO HORIZONTE, BRAZIL

    The two students fidgeted nervously on the hand woven carpet as the kerosene lamp barely illuminated the inside of the hut. They shifted uncomfortably as they saw their instructor sitting a few feet ahead of them with a big grin spread across his face, wondering why his expression was different from theirs.

    The bearded man who had just entered the room shuffled over toward the grinning visitor, bent down and peered into his eyes. "Does something amuse you, Doctor Jones?"

    The intrepid archeologist glanced up from the floor back to his questioner and smirked. "When did you grow that beard? And what's with the sudden 'Northeastern' accent?"

    The bearded man threw his head back and issued a hearty laugh. Micah Johnson and Indiana James Lambert glanced at each other in confusion as the man helped Jones up onto his feet.

    "Sudden? I've taught archeology at Barnett College for several years, you know!" the stranger informed Indy. Contorting his face slightly, the bearded man announced with a thick 'Texan' accent, "How y'all prefer this, pardners?"

    Indiana Jones once again smiled in amusement as he motioned his students to stand up. "All right, you can stop with the charicatures now," Jones proclaimed to the bearded man, "I happen to know better." The stranger motioned the native to his feet, then waved him out of the room.

    James Lambert couldn't take it any longer. "What the hell's going on here! Who are you, and how do you know our professor?"

    Micah Johnson glanced around the room, at the woven carpets and the wooden statues that differentiated the hut they were in from the rest of the huts. "Sir, this all looks Spanish. More precisely, in the Catalonian style of varying degrees from the last hundred years or so."

    The bearded man nodded in admiration toward his colleague, reverting to his natural Spanish accent. "You taught your students well, Henry."

    "No, not you too," Jones winced, "don't call me that!"

    Frustrated that his question was ignored, Indiana James exclaimed, "Who the hell are you?!?"

    Dr. Jones swiveled quickly toward his student and pointed sternly at him. "That'll be enough, James!"

    "No no, lo siento! It is I who must apologize," inferred the Spaniard toward the students, "I have left both of you in the dark long enough. My name is Jose Manuel de la Shaggy, but as your professor prefers to be called 'Indiana', you may simply call me 'Shaggy'. I was the one who sent your illustrious professor the 'E' mail. Quite frankly, I'm surprised that you all were able to find me."

    Indiana Jones raised his hand to his head, only to finally realize that his fedora wasn't there. As if reading his mind, de la Shaggy assured him. "Don't worry, Indy. Your hat is in the next hut, along with your jacket and other accessories."

    "Thanks," Henry Jones, Jr. acknowledged, "but why the 'E' mail? And the natives? And all this in your hut?"

    Shaggy spread his arms and waved them around the room. "All this is to remind me of home… or what's left of it." The solemn nature of his words cast a pall on those in the room. "As for your other questions, I'll explain over dinner."

    The Spaniard noticed Indiana Jones, Micah Johnson and Indiana James Lambert glancing uncomfortably at the contents of the large boiling pot outside. Amused, he let out another hearty laugh. "Do not worry, my friends," de la Shaggy exclaimed sarcastically, "it is no one you know!"

* * * * *

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

     "Calm down, ma'am. We have everything under control!"

    The stocky Hungarian woman glared at the regional FBI director standing on her porch as she distrustingly peered through the slightly-ajar door from inside her house. "No, I saw men take woman tied in ropes across street," her thick accent boomed, "they were speaking German. Her name was 'Megra' or something. I saw… I saw!"

    The agent shook his head in frustration, trying to remain calm himself. "Ma'am, my men are investigating the house as we speak. You don't have to wor…"

    "Why police not here???"

    "Ma'am, I already told you," the agent answered more slowly through a smile and clenched teeth, "we are the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have jurisdiction over…"

    "What your name again?"

    The agent was almost speechless at the unexpected query. "Uh… I told you, my name is Agent Quigely… I'm…"

    "That is funny name!" bellowed the stocky Hungarian. "I told you everything I know in last half hour. Now go away!"

    Quigely sighed. "Well then, thank you for your --" the FBI agent started before the door slammed in his face, "--cooperation." He swiveled around quickly as someone addressed him from behind.

    "Sir," Agent Graml said, arriving alongside Agent Bud-arc, "we finished searching that house. The whole place is a mess. Whoever was in there left in a hurry."

    "Thank you, Agent Graml," answered Quigely, "let J. Edgar know that we haven't found anything here."

    "Yes sir," Agent Graml obeyed as he ran off.

    Agent Bud-arc glanced at his superior officer, making sure that Agent Graml was out of earshot before speaking. "Quigely, those Germans got a little impatient and took that Italian dame and that wacko pilot themselves. So where the heck are they?"

    Quigely shook his head. "I don't know. And we also found that Japanese agent that the Germans were supposed to link up with gagged and tied up in a nearby ditch. Someone else knows about Megara and Aragorn. With her on the loose, Muppet is once again a threat."

    "But didn't Aragorn already have the 'Golden Spider' for us, all signed, sealed and delivered?"

    "Well, not anymore. He returned empty-handed even before the Krauts got him. And he's all cuckoo now!"

    A worried look covered Bud-arc's face as his voice rose. "What do we tell Nobody? He told them Krauts that he'd be hiding that damn golden bug from the authorities here until they give him the payment. He'll expose us if we return without it!"

    Quigely shushed him. "Quiet! Don't blow our cover now, or we'll both be sitting in a federal slammer 'till the end of time!"

    "And what does Hitler want with the 'Golden Spider', anyway?"

    A steely-eyed glaze shot back. "Bud-arc, don't ask so many questions - you'll live longer."

    Both agents glanced around from one house to next, making sure that they weren't being watched. From across the street, they saw the seven other FBI agents leaving the house the Germans had occupied earlier. While the other agents were filing into the two ordinary-looking cars parked near the sidewalk, Agent Graml was still gazing at the house they had just exited.

    Bud-arc nervously faced Quigely. "How did the attack in New York go?"

    Quigely's expression soured. "Well, the two broads didn't kill the good doctor at the Murray in New York, so Nobody got some of his own guys to steal an unmarked car from the Mounties up in Alberta as to confuse anyone trying to track them down later. They crossed the border and should have pretty much filled her full of holes by now. Nobody still has to hear back from them."

    "And what about that private eye here in the City?"

    Quigely's expression once again soured. "No, they didn't kill him either. It didn't seem like he had the 'Spider', though."

    Bud-arc shook his head and grinned. "So China-girl and her Pollack friend still think that Nobody ain't after them anymore?"

    Quigely's grin matched Bud-arc's. "Or so I told them. But don't worry, he's still plenty mad at them for promising what they couldn't deliver way back when… even if that P.I. botched things up for them."

    "Sir?" Agent Graml's voice caught both Quigely and Bud-arc off guard. "We finished the search of the house. No solid evidence was left there. What should we do now?"

    The regional FBI director cleared his throat. "We head back to HQ. We'll call Washington and find out what to do next."

    Agent Graml jumped enthusiastically. "Yes sir!" He dashed toward one of the cars across the street and started it.

    Quigley and Bud-arc glanced at each other and shook their heads. Nothing was said between them at that moment, but each knew what the other was thinking. After this current assignment for Nobody is over, we're offing that damn FBI rookie!

    "I'll inform Nobody about the situation," Quigely told Bud-arc quietly, "you just keep the Feds occupied while I do so."

    "Right," Bud-arc nodded as they both headed for the car Agent Graml had just started.

* * * * *

    A hearty laugh once again wafted through the room as all but one of the people at the makeshift table inside the hut queasily stared at the bowls of soup in front of them. As the tribesmen continued their ceremonial dance around the campfire outside, the one person in the hut who was not staring at the soup was the one issuing the laugh.

    "No puedo creer éste," de la Shaggy shook his head in disbelief at his visitors. "I was just joking when I said 'it is no one you know'. There are no cannibals around here. Even the tribesmen here find that repulsive."

    "Speaking of which," Indiana Jones turned to his Spanish colleague, "how did you end up here with this tribe? I had no idea why you left Barnett College after so many years. After I received your 'E' mail, I checked around and finally found a few rumors about you searching for the 'Golden Spider' here."

    Shaggy swallowed a large spoonful of the steaming soup from his bowl. "Tell me, Indiana… why is it that you and your two fine students want to find the 'Golden Spider'?"

    "Both Marcus Brody and Barnett College co-sponsored the expedition," answered Dr. Jones without hesitation. "The school would study it for a while, then it would be on display at the museum. As for them," Jones waved toward Micah Johnson and Indiana James Lambert, "I wanted to give my best students some hands-on experience in archeology."

    The Spaniard leaned back in his chair. "And?"

    "And…" Jones continued, "… Dean Vincent asked me to find out what happened to you. And if you'd be coming back to teach anytime soon."

    Another hearty laugh followed suit. "We shall see," assured an amused Shaggy, "we shall see."

    Jones stood up, took a few steps toward his brown leather jacket hanging on the wall and removed the envelope from the inner pocket. Returning to the table, the professor pulled out the three pieces of paper from the envelope. Setting aside the piece of paper with the large letter 'E' scrawled on it, he held out the second piece of paper for all at the table to see. The map of the section of Brazilian jungle was clearly visible - the crude sketch of a spider on it was only slightly less so.

    Indy shoved the jungle map paper forward toward Shaggy. "So I see that you found the location of the 'Golden Spider'," inferred the archeologist with his typical lopsided grin.

    "Sí, mi buen amigo," Shaggy answered, looking both excited and nervous, "even better… how do you think I was able to sketch the third piece?"

    Both Micah's and Indiana James' jaws dropped upon realizing the significance of what the Spaniard just said. Jones' wide-eyed expression conveyed the same wonder as he leaned forward. "Yes, it looked very accurate from what I saw, although it was gone by the time I got to the golden altar table."

    Shaggy leaned forward in his chair, the anticipation on his face looking similar to someone who was finally going to supply the punchline to a joke. "And Indy… did you find a letter 'E' scratched in the indentation where the 'Golden Spider' was originally held?"

    "Yeah. How did you know?"

    Leaning even closer, Shaggy's voice lowered. "Because I was the one who scratched it in!"

* * * * *

    "This way, Mr. Muppet."

    "That's Sir Muppet, you blithering dolt!" the furious Englishman lashed out at Sgt. Abramoff. "Where the bloody hell are you taking me? Shouldn't you be watching that rascally Short Round or whatnot?"

    Sgt. Abramoff continued leading the handcuffed Muppet toward his squad car in the middle of the otherwise-empty police station's parking lot, the car's shadow extending some ways from the bright light illuminating the parking lot in the darkness of the night.

    "With all due respect, sir," the policeman answered, "Mr. Round isn't the one suspected on murder charges. But don't worry, you're just being transferred to the precinct in the next neighborhood. It'll actually be safer for you while things at this precinct cool down a bit."

    The two men's shadows unexpectedly met a third as they reached the squad car.

    "How'ya doin', Abramoff?" Louie asked his fellow policemen with his mouth full from behind the squad car, holding an open box of doughnuts in one hand while holding a half-eaten doughnut in the other.

    Sgt. Abramoff seemed relieved as Muppet rolled his eyes. "Louie, you gave me a scare there for a second. What are you doing here?"

    Louie shrugged his shoulders as he stuffed the half-eaten doughnut into his mouth. "I forgot somethin' at the station and decided to finish this box o'doughnuts before I went inside. Ya want one?"

    A smile rose from Sgt. Abramoff's mouth as he took a chocolate-covered doughnut from the box. "Thanks, Louie!"

    Louie waved the box at Muppet. "Hey Brit-boy, ya want one too?"

    Muppet grimaced. "No thank you. I'd rather have my usual crumpets to that drivel!"

    Louie shrugged and closed the box. "Suit yourself."

    Sgt. Abramoff finished his doughnut, then took out his key to open the car door. Trying to fit the key into the keyhole became increasingly difficult as his vision began to blur.

    "Abramoff, what's wrong?" asked Louie. "You don't look so good."

    Sgt. Abramoff dropped the keys as he tried to brace himself against the squad car. "I'm fine…" exclaimed Abramoff, sweating profusely, "I…"

    Muppet stepped back, leaving enough room for Sgt. Abramoff to slump onto the floor. Louie struggled to bend past his own girth and was able to check Abramoff's pulse. He then looked up to Muppet. "He'll be out for a while, Muppet."

    Taking out his own handcuff-key, Louie removed the handcuffs from Muppet's wrists. He then scooped up the keys to the squad car, opened the trunk and placed Sgt. Abramoff's body into the trunk.

    Muppet gasped. "Won't he suffocate in there?"

    "Nah!" assured Louie. "Car trunks aren't airtight - he'll be cramped but breathin'. By the time he's found, you'll be long gone. But didn't Michaelson tell ya not to leave town or somethin'?"

    Muppet smirked. "To bloody hell with Detective Michaelson and his miserable lot. I must find Megara and whoever kidnapped her, whether it was Nobody or those bloody Huns or whoever. Without her, how can I know the progress in Brazil?"

    "Speakin' a'which," answered Louie, "one of my boys spotted her a few minutes ago with that Oriental guy at The Man with the Hat bar and restaurant."

    The Englishman was speechless for a moment. "Oh," he finally said, trying to hide his displeasure, "I see."

    Louie seemed unfazed. "And don't worry, I'll cover your trail. The department'll be too buried in paperwork before they start wondering what happened to you."

    "And my limousine and chauffeur?"

    "A few blocks away, Sir Muppet," Louie chuckled as he tossed the box of doughnuts into the backseat. "Get in the car. I'll drive you over there."

    Both men entered the car as Louie started the engine. Muppet massaged his own wrists where the handcuffs had chaffed a minute earlier. "And then we head off in separate directions. Understood, Louie?"

    "Yeah, whatever," Louie answered as the squad car pulled out of the police parking lot.

* * * * *

    Indiana James Lambert hungrily slurped his soup as Micah Johnson glared at his host, wondering whether to trust this man he had just met - even if it seemed that his archeology professor had known this man for a long time.

    The archeology professor sat quietly at the table, arching his head forward while leaning on both elbows, knowing his Spanish colleague well enough to know that more of the story was to come at any moment.

    After sipping his beverage and placing the mug down on the table, Shaggy complied. "Do you all know the origin of the 'Golden Spider'?"

    "Yeah!" exclaimed Indiana James between slurps, "The natives here made it to pray to it or something!"

    "No!" Shaggy replied, the forcefulness of his answer almost sending his three guests aback. "That is where everyone is mistaken. It was not even originally from this hemisphere!" Shaggy pulled open a burlap bag next to his feet, pulled out what looked like folders and journals, and placed them onto the table. "I don't know everything there is to know about the 'Golden Spider', but from what I was able to gather from these notes taken from Hacienda de la Shaggy…"

    "Hacienda de la Shaggy?" Indy interrupted. "You mentioned that place a few times up at Barnett. Isn't that your familial ranch in Spain?"

    Shaggy nodded. "Si, and much of the surrounding land belonged to my family as well, including a few small towns. It lies out in the country between Barcelona and the Pyrenees Mountains. Of course, that damned Generalissimo Francisco Franco seized Hacienda de la Shaggy and the whole surrounding area in the civil war that has been ravaging my country for the past three years."

    "Yes," Micah interjected, "right before we left for Brazil, I read in the newspapers that Franco's forces were on the verge of capturing Barcelona. And that it was just a matter of time before Madrid itself would fall into his hands."

    Shaggy nodded in disgust. "Si. Anyway, what is important is that there is some sort of temple that lies in a small forest area high in the Pyranees Mountains that predates both the Christian, and even the Muslim, entrance into Hispania, but must have been built sometime after the fall of the Roman Empire. Apparently, sometime in the fifteenth or sixteenth century, a grave robber stole the 'Golden Spider' from that temple and made his way over here. I assume that the natives killed him and that they took the 'Golden Spider' as their own. But the true origin of the 'Golden Spider' is the temple in Spain."

    Wiping the sweat of humidity from his forehead with the napkin on the table, Indiana Jones leafed through the faded sketches in the journals. "This still doesn't tell us much about the 'Golden Spider' itself."

    "Oh, there's more!" assured the Spaniard. "The 'Golden Spider' itself is a grand prize, made all of pure gold. But according to these Hacienda journals of countless generations, the 'Golden Spider' holds inside it something vast and powerful. The journals don't say what it is, but states that there are three markers to open it up."

    The slurping suddenly stopped as Indiana James glanced up from his soup. "You mean that there's more to the 'Golden Spider' than just the 'Golden Spider'?"

    Nodding proudly, Shaggy continued. "Precisely. The second marker is apparently located in that temple in the mountains…"

    Jones lifted his hand. "Hold on a minute! You don't suggest that we fly into the middle of a civil war and…"

    "First things first, Indy!" countered Shaggy. "The first marker needed to open the 'Golden Spider' is the blood of a Pardosa Hortensis, a rare breed of spider usually found only in parts of Northern Africa. Fortunately, we were able to find someone who was working with that very type of spider here in Brazil…"

*************************

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