Chapter 9 of Indiana Jones and the Golden Spider

Posted by Goodsport from adsl-216-102-199-185.dsl.snfc21.pacbell.net on July 08, 2000 at 02:22:15:

Chapter 9 - Serendipity

    "Nothing!" Meg spat derisively and struggled against the tight ropes that bound her to the chair. "And even if I did know anything about this 'Golden Spider', you would be the last to know!"

    Disdainfully, Fritz squinted his eyes and raised his hand. He slapped her forcefully across the face. The sound of it echoed through the tiny space of the shabby two-story building. The shutters had been drawn and a low lamp hung from the ceiling, partly illuminating the faces of the four people present.

    "That'll be enough." Jerico deterred as he stood up from his chair and pulled back the German by his shoulder. He'd been watching their fruitless interrogation, counterparted by her stoical stubbornness, going on for too long. "I'll take it from here," he informed them as he motioned the others to leave.

    "We'll be back in a couple of minutes. If she hasn't sung until then," Ludwig reminded him before he shut the door and gave him a knowing look, "you know what to do."

* * * * *

    "Smack Brett?" Micah guffawed and slapped his leg in amusement. He visibly remembered James' older brother from more than one occasion, and this idea clearly didn't agree with him. "Pretty sure he won't appreciate that very much."

    James rolled his eyes. "I was kidding, Micah! Don't take everything so literally."

    "Okay kids," Indy interrupted their bickering, "we'd better get back to our camp. It's gonna be nightfall soon and I don't think any of us would like to spend it here." With a shudder, he glanced at the dead spider lying on the ground. Who knows how many more of these lurk here?

    They had just picked up Webley whey the darts started to fly again. The darts were the same type that had earlier killed their guide Carlos.

* * * * *

    His knife deftly cut her loose from the ropes. She rubbed her hands as the blood came rushing back to her veins.

    Suddenly, they heard the sound of the Studebaker being started outside.

    Taking a peek through the shutters, Jerico watched the car drive away.

    "They're leaving. We'd better get out of here."

    "You're helping me escape?" It was more of a baffled statement than a question.

    He met her gape and nodded. "You ready?"

    She nodded, ignoring the prickling sensation in her wrists. "Y-yes, of course."

    Furtively, they descended downstairs. The house was empty. They must have taken Aragorn with them, Jerico thought. He opened the backdoor that lead to a narrow alley - one way leading to a dead end, the other back to the main road. "This way. We'd have to hurry though, I have no idea when they'll be back."

    They had just reached the corner when they came face to face with the Studebaker.

    "I knew we couldn't trust that slit-eye!" Fritz roared scornfully and purposefully drove the car towards the startled couple.

* * * * *

    "Duck!" Jones shouted.

    The darts flew all around, missing them by inches. Crawling behind a fallen dead tree trunk, they sought cover.

    All of a sudden, the attack stopped and the forest grew still again.

    Warily, they glanced about. However, they did not notice the bushes behind them part, with barely audible footsteps closing in. Without warning, they were knocked out.

    Before he could lose conciousness, the archeologist was able to see several dark-skinned bare feet standing on the ground before him. Then everything went black.

* * * * *

    "Welcome back."

    Slowly her eyes adjusted to the light, and she groaned as she saw Fiddler sitting on her bedside.

    "Was that groan meant for me or does your head hurt?"

    Wrinkling her brows, she scrunched up her eyes at him. "Both."

    He smiled inspite himself. "Want me to call the doc-"

    "No, it… it's alright. I'll be fine. Thank you." She looked at him thoughtfully. "I should also thank you for saving my life, Detective."

    "Yeah, whatever."

    Noticing his discomfort, she changed the topic. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be with the other cops or detectives, investigating?"

    "Well, first of all I am watching you. Whoever hired those assassins might want to look for you in your own house. As for the investigation, that's why I am here. You slept longer than you thought, Deirdre. In those hours of your unconscious state of mind, as I might like to put it, we've examined the evidence, or what was left of it and… you still with me?"

    She nodded.

    "And found out that the three men are not unrelated to those who did the Murray bomb attack. We located two unutilized bombs in the backseat. They were of the same kind you mentioned to me yesterday."

    "I see."

    "We are still waiting for the testimonies of the two assassins. Unfortunately, both are still unconscious and in medical treatment after that car crash and the gun wounds." He didn't mention the death of the other gunman. Too many people had died in her vicinity since yesterday. Even he found all this hostility startling as well as puzzling. But to him it was just a job, nothing more.

    "Deirdre, tell me," he asked, not taking his eyes off her, "of what significance is this project of yours? What effect does it have on our society? What great mystery lies behind all this? To properly investigate this case I need to know the whole truth."

    Her eyes were half-closed, and she seemed like she hadn't been listening to him at all.

    "Detective, there is something I need to show you before I answer all your questions."

* * * * *

    Jerico grabbed Meg's hand and pulled her to the side just as the Studebaker shot past them, almost crushing them into the brick wall. A few yards away, the car squealed to a halt and headed in reverse in the one-way alley.

    "Megara, run as fast as you can to that chapel! You hear me?"

    "A-and you?" She eyed him apprehensively.

    "Don't worry. Now… GO!"

    At first hesitantly, then nimbly, and as fast as her high-heels could carry her, she ran up the steep hill towards the sanctity of the little church. Daring a glance over her shoulder, she saw Jerico draw his gun from the inside of his overcoat and take aim.

* * * * *

    "Hold your fire!"

    Muppet had just stepped out of the ladies' room when he came face to face with a mixed crowd of appalled restaurant personnel and curious customers. The police who had just arrived was inspecting the body of a profusely bleeding woman lying on the floor of the foyer area. Ulla, he realized with a shock. Two other policemen were pointing their guns at Muppet, whose wrinkled and torn white suit was soiled with the splattered blood from the brute Ulla had shot down a while ago.

* * * * *

    "Show me what?" the Fiddler repeated as he followed her down the marble staircase, which wound down to the main hall. She gestured him to follow her as she pushed open the huge oak door leading to the house library. The room was huge; walls lined ceiling-high with bookcases that were crammed in with countless books. The detective took a look at some of the authors and titles of the books as they passed several shelves.

    W. van Katwijk, Spinnen van Nederland; D. Jones, Spinnen; R & K Preston-Mafham, Spiders of the World; R.F. Foelix, Biology of Spiders; Hillyard, The Book of the Spider: The Common Spiders of the United States; London E. Simon, Les arachnides de France.

    They had reached the back of the library. Deirdre walked over the bookshelf aligning the wall and pulled out a book. "How to Kill a Mockingbird," the Fiddler read aloud. Disconcerted, he turned to her. "A book? What does-"

    He hadn't notice her pushing a button at the back of the shelf, when unexpectedly the whole wall slid open with an audible swoosh to reveal…

    "My lab."

* * * * *

    Jerico's aim had been precise. The first bullet of his Colt has smashed the glass of the car's back window; the second shot hit Ludwig square in the back. However, that had not hindered Fritz, who was sitting in the passenger seat, to take over the wheel and to push his dead companion out of the car.

    A couple of crates filled with rotten fruit were stacked up high by the end of the corner. Pushing with all his might, Jerico thrust over the boxes so that they obscured the narrow street.

    The Studebaker crashed into the boxes and stalled there. Cursing in his native language, Fritz climbed out of the car. By the time he climbed over the boxes, Jerico was out of sight.

* * * * *

    It was Indiana Jones who had woken up first. His head felt like lead and he could feel a slight lump at the back. Micah and James were still lying unconsciously on the hard ground beside him. Where was Webley? In the dimness of the wooden shack he could barely make out his own hand.

    Instinct told him that it was already night. Light flickered through the bamboo walls as he moved over to peek through the slits. He couldn't make out much but wild shadows and light from a fire.

    Searching his pockets, he realized that they had been emptied of its contents. Groping through the darkness, his hands found a short but thick stick and pried open the bamboo a few inches.

    The flickering light of a huge bon fire danced across his eyes as he observed the whole spectacle unfolding before him. Dozens of half-naked men in curious costumes were circling the fire doing a rather unorthodox worship dance. Their eerie chants filled the silence of the night with howls and incomprehensible utterances half-sung, half-wailed.

    "Aw… Doctor Jones. Where are we?" Micah was sitting up, holding his head.

    Indiana hushed him and instructed him to wake James. "Take a look at this."

    The two students peered through the opening.

    "Those aren't cannibals, are they?" James inquired, a bit alarmed.

    "I hope not," their professor replied, "they seem to be doing a sort of spiritualistic rite. Hmm… see that man over there, painted in black?"

    "Yes, he's wearing a funny costume." Micah pointed at a native, who was dressed in an intricately designed costume made of a hard yet light material, with eight divisions that hung from his neck down to his ankles.

    "What does it remind you of?" the archeologist asked.

    The two students stared at each other and said in unison, "A spider!"

* * * * *

    "I hope you are not afraid of spiders, Detective." the little professor inquired. Her back to him, facing a metal door, she was searching in the pockets of her lab gown for her key.

    Gulping, he looked around at the hundreds of jars and glass stalls crawling with all sorts of arachnida. He felt rather vulnerable in the white lab gown Deirdre had given him as they had entered. Clearing his throat he answered her question, "Deathly afraid."

    "I had hoped you weren't. Spiders are very useful animals in our ecology, and most are quite harmless too." She had found her key and inserted in the lock of the door and pushed it open.

    "After you."

    "Wait, I'll switch on the lights."

    Sudden light blinded him for a minute, and as his eyes adjusted, he staggered back in shock. "That can't be real, can it?"

    "She's a beauty, isn't she?" A touch of misery belied her proud remark.

    Before them was the largest spider the Fiddler had ever seen. He had no idea that miles away, an archeologist and his two pupils had just eliminated one of its first progeny.

* * * * *

    "I'm innocent. I swear."

    "Yeah, sure." The police detective Michaelson circled Muppet's chair and gave him an exasperated look. "You mean to say that you had absolutely nothing to do with the stabbing of Ulla, our famous donut-maker? And two men in the ladies' restroom… one dead and the other knocked totally unconscious with severe chest wounds? While you were not only in the vicinity when this happened, but also had the victim' s blood all over your suit and hands?"

    Somewhere in the back or the room, someone let out a snigger.

    The dapper Englishman turned a dark shade of red. "Oh bloody hell, I did not kill these people! Today was even the very first time I ever laid my eyes on them. Why would I even want to kill them?"

    "The question here is not why, but how - and that you were able to do it. As we all are very much aware of, Mr. Muppet, you are the prime suspect to this murder case. Numerous customers can testify to your having been leaving the main dining hall several times. On these occasions you had sufficient time to be able to go about your doings. Shot that man, then stabbed Ulla, placed the murder weapon in her bag, and the knife in the hands of this other man who probably caught you in the act and had to be eliminated too. Very wisely planned, and it would have worked, resulting in another unsolvable crime, if it hadn't been due to the arrival of the policemen as you stepped out of the restroom."

    Speechlessly, Muppet stared at the Police Detective. "I... I-"

    Michaelson held up an outstretched hand, "Please spare me, I have had enough of mysterious crime for today." He stomped over to the door. "I'll leave you with Sgt. Abramoff. He will interrogate you further and give you the details why you are not allowed to bail out. You can call your lawyer if you think that will help."

* * * * *

    Goodsport and Indiana Riggs, ran up the stairs leading to the Police Department and proceeded through the sliding doors. They almost collided with Michaelson, who was on his way out.

    "Goodsport! What the hell are you doing here?! When the Chief sees you around here--"

    "Mike, it's okay. I'm here to report something. Where were you headed to, anyway?"

    "The docks. Apparently there was some sort of explosion."

    "Oh, that's what we're here for. " Quickly, Goodsport explained what had happened during the past few hours.

    Michaelson motioned them to follow him. " We'd better discuss this in my office."

* * * * *

    Fritz checked Ludwig's pulse again. His partner was dead. Damn that traitor!

    Returning to the corner, he surveyed the street. It being a weekend, the street was half-empty. The shots Jerico had fired had gone barely unnoticed on account of the dump truck that had noisily rattled by during that time.

    Where would they have gone?, he asked himself. He looked around the deserted neighborhood and suddenly he knew.

* * * * *

    Megara cowered in the confession booth, afraid even to let out the faintest sound. Minutes passed by without anything happening. Where was Jerico?

    Just as she was about to bolt out of the booth, she heard the massive door of the church creak open. She drew in her breath in fear. Foosteps. Someone walked down the aisle and halted. Her heartbeat was racing so wildly, she feared that someone might hear it. The footsteps neared. One by one the other doors to the booth were pulled open. Preparing herself, she awaited whosoever was standing outside her door.

* * * * *

    The ramshackle door burst open and someone holding a torch strutted in.

    Dr. Jones squinted against the bright light. Micah and James curiously watched the native as he motioned with his hands to follow him.

    "Uh, we better do as he wants," the archeologist said.

    They stood up and dusted off the grime on them.

    "I wonder what he wants," Micah whispered as they stepped outside.

    James glanced at his classmate. "Perhaps they finally gonna get us dinner."

    Micah lowered his head. "Or perhaps to have us for dinner."

* * * * *

    He caught her wrist before she could hit him with her stiletto heel. "Megara!"

    "Jerico! Thank God you're alive."

    He grinned. "Prayed for me?"

    Light was filtering in through the stained glass, and its reflection bounced off marble floor. The setting was eerily still and mystic. A robed man came in from the sacristy to light a candle by the altar.

    "Where are those Germans?" Megara whispered as she pulled Jerico to one of the benches.

    "Fritz is still out there somewhere. He might find us any minute. Come on, we don't have time."

    Unexpectedly, the church doors opened again and a couple of nuns entered the parish church. The sacristan greeted them merrily as they handed him some flowers and candles for the altar.

    "I might have an idea," Meg said.

* * * * *

    "This not a good idea," Tessa said as she climbed over the fence. Jayne was already on the other side taking in her surroundings.

    "Just shut up, will you?" answered Jayne, "You're slowly getting on my nerves."

    "Listen to me, there are guards all around this place! How do you expect to get to the main house?"

    They stealthily ran under the trees which circled the small lily pond that wound its way around the Campbell Compound.

    Jayne ignored Tessa's complaints and checked her gun, securely holstered under her skirt.

    "I really got a bad feeling about this."

    Tessa stopped short as a snarling dog blocked their way.

    "Good doggie..."

* * * * *

    " So you mean to say that there are more of these… spiders, and that this is their mother?"

    "Yes and no," she answered the Fiddler. "Our experiment involved crossbreeding. Our use of hybridism resulted in several varying offspring. Not all of them were alike, but yes, this is their original host mother."

    Bewildered, the detective walked around the specimen in the glass cage. "Where are these other offspring? Behind another metal door?"

    "No…" Deirdre glanced down at her hands, "that is one of the first things I needed to tell you though, after I showed you Ina. You see, our experimentation needed to be conducted in a suitable place, which had to be located in a research environment that had to conform to the habitat of the arachnida we were dealing with."

    "In layman's terms, please?" the Fiddler slowly asked, anticipating the worst. His instincts told him something was very wrong.

    Interminable time seemed to pass before she could answer him.

    "Brazil."

* * * * *

    "God bless you, son."

    Entering the parish, Fritz examined the place carefully. A couple of women in habits and a priest were on their way out as he passed them. He nodded curtly, barely giving them notice. A lady was kneeling in the front pews. He quickly walked up to her and jerked her back by the shoulders.

    "Entschuldigung," he pardoned himself as his eyes met those of a lady who was about twice the age of the Italian woman. Frantically, he scanned the room. The sacristy was empty as well.

    However, by the confession booth he found something lying on the ground. Picking it up he realized that he had just missed them by minutes. He ran outside, but it was too late. Flinging away the silver button of Meg's blouse, he let out a blood-curdling curse.

* * * * *

    Several blocks away in front of the The Man with the Hat, a bar and restaurant, two people got off a horse-drawn carriage.

    "Grazie, sisters! You have no idea of what great help you have been." Meg smiled and waved after them as they rode off again. She turned to face Jerico who was pulling off the white piece of paper from his collar. "Where to now, Father?"

    Jerico turned to her and, giving her a cheeky grin, replied, "That depends on how much you trust me, Sister."

* * * * *

    Goodsport, Indiana Riggs, Michaelson and Short Round were sitting in the little office of the Chief of Police.

    "So chief, after we disposed of the bomb, we came right back here," Goodsport ended his report.

    The man sitting behind the desk looked at his former employee skeptically. "I see."

    Michaelson spoke up. "And we figured out the name of that Asian woman, too," he said, handing over a folder. The Chief flicked it open to see a file on one of the wanted criminals on their list. "Jayne Jones. Also known as Indiana Jayne."

    "You mean the woman who was involved in that scandal at that security agency Bill was covering?"

    Goodsport nodded. "She'd been charged with robbery and murder. Bill was on her tail and almost got her. I remember him telling me that before the week was over, he'd have her traced. Well," his voice faltered, "He never got to see the end of that week."

    Michaelson watched the P.I. hold back his rage. Bill had been Goodsport's best friend, and yet he had also been the one to betray him. That very week had been the time when he had come home to find Bill in bed with his fiancee, Dorothy. Goodsport would have shot them himself, Michaelson mused, hadn't they been dead already. The house had been ransacked as well. Apparently, a couple of burglars had come in, found the couple in the bedroom and shot them. Bad timing. Goodsport had been working on a case in another city at that time, and when he discovered that his fiancee had not only had an affair behind his back, but was also dead, he nearly went out of his mind. The chief detective and everyone else in the office realized that ever since that day, Goodsport had never been the same.

* * * * *

    Indiana Jones, Micah and James pushed aside the beads that covered the entrance of one of the larger huts. It was richly decorated with rugs, beaded curtains, colorful cloths and intricately hand carved wooden statues. Whoever occupied this dwelling was someone of higher status among the natives.

    The man who had lead them there pointed at some hand woven carpets on the floor.

    When at first they didn't understand, the half-naked man sat down on the carpets and motioned them to do the same.

    "What now?"

    "Beats me."

    They had just spoken when someone walked through the entrance and greeted them in perfect American English. "Welcome. I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long."

    In astonishment, Indy stared at the man whom he could barely recognize under that beard, but it was no one else but ... his long lost colleague.

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

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