Chapter 15 of Indiana Jones & The Curse of Rhan

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Posted by Muppet from dialup137.sybil.kingston-internet.net on July 09, 2000 at 11:23:49:

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Chad, 1956

“I’m sweating. I hate sweating” said Louis Belloq, wiping his
brow with a folded handkerchief.

He was sitting alongside Kas in a large, pale brown truck that
was making its rocky way along uneven makeshift roads littered with
broken stones and clumps of branches. After deciding that the potential prize of the lost Temple was far greater than hunting down an interferingarchaeologist, Louis had made a conscious effort to get to the digging site as fast as he could.

“You think you’re sweating” sighed Dr. Jerome, “You’re not
driving” he said. Dr. Jerome had hold of the steering wheel of the truck, guiding it along the roads as clouds of lightly coloured dust flew behind them.

With Kas sat next to him, and Louis next to Kas, Dr. Jerome and
Louis looked liked uneven bookends. Kas simply sat there, arms folded, staring forward. He had a permanent intimidating look on his face, ready to fight at any moment - or when Louis ordered him to.

Louis glanced at his wristwatch. They had left Cairo many hours
ago, and would not be in Chad for at least another day. After bartering with a local trader, they had secured the truck as well as several digging tools.

Kas had been an invaluable part of the transaction; the trader was
too frightened to do anything but hand over all that Louis wanted.

“Jones” Louis muttered to himself. As much as he wanted to simply forget the American, he couldn’t. If only Jones had not escaped when aboard ‘La Haise’, Louis could have achieved all he wanted: avenge what he saw as the murder of his father and harness the full power of the Temple of Rhan.

However, so long as Louis found the Temple he would be able to
go after Jones with a much stronger force than a mere bodyguard; he
would be invincible. Louis managed a smirk at the thought of the
ignorant scholars before him who dismissed Rhan as nothing more than
a tale of fiction.

The Temple was real, and Louis was going to uncover it.

Louis had a destination at last: the Tibesti Massif mountains
near Bokao, in Chad. He didn’t know where this village was, but once in Chad Louis knew his sheer energy, his extreme desire to find the Temple would ensure he would be there within the day, if not within hours.

The Jewel of the Staff of Rhan was safely in Kas’ possession, locked inside a metal box and at Kas’ feet in the truck. It was going
nowhere, at least not out of Louis’ site. According to the legend, once

Louis attached the jewel to the Staff at the Temple, he would have his
prize. And when that happened, he would pity anybody that was in his
way.

There was only one problem at the moment: workers. Trying to
persuade workers in Cairo to come to Chad, even with Kas’ methods of
influence, had been fruitless. Nobody was prepared to make the long
journey on what they saw as just another dig site. There was plenty of
work in Egypt for those people without following a Frenchman into
another country.

“Never mind” Louis said to himself. Bokoa must be a small village, he thought. One where Kas’ might - and Louis’ revolver - would wield a great amount of influence.

Finding a crew suitable to dig for the Temple would be no problem.

Besides, digging with locals from a secluded village increased the chances that the dig would go unnoticed until it was too late - at least, too late for everyone but Louis.

. . .

The next day, Indy was ready to leave.

Fayah had done as Indy instructed and made sure he was awake
early. Louis had a day’s headstart on Louis, with the right amount of
luck Louis could have found the Temple already. Indy needed to find
Sallah, get help and get to Chad fast.

Indy was standing near the door of Sallah’s house.

“Thank you again”

“Not a problem, Indy. You must come back to visit” smiled
Fayah.

She watched as Indy made his way into the distance along the
busy streets of Cairo. She had given Indy a piece of paper with a
detailed description of where Sallah was working.

Indy turned before he made a corner to wave to Sallah’s wife.

Fayah waved back, and watched as Indy disappeared around the corner.

“Bizerte, Bizerte,” Indy muttered to himself, wandering the
streets of Cairo in the vague direction of the coast. Glancing down at the piece of paper he held tight in his hand, Indy examined what he now knew.

Sallah was working as leader of a commercial dig in Bizerte,
Tunisia. He was in charge of fifty men whose orders were to clear an
area for future development. Convincing Sallah to leave such a lucrative job to come with him to Chad seemed to be an uphill struggle.

Spying a merchant ship in the distance, Indy made his way towards it hoping to meet a generous Captain who would let him travel to Tunisia.

. . .

It was dark when they arrived.

After many seemingly endless hours through rough terrain, small
villages and even one or two crude road-checks, Louis Belloq had
reached his destination; Bokoa.

It was a tiny village set far away from any others.

The Tibesti Massif mountain range loomed over the village, creating a shadow over the row of poorly constructed huts and makeshift houses. A few lights flickered in some windows, but at that time of night the villagers were all asleep.

The only sign of life was the faint light coming from a small, dying fire in the centre of the village.

Louis’ first reaction was to glance upwards towards the mountains, trying to see if there was any sign of the Temple of Rhan; some remains, an inscription, anything.

However, in the thick black night, Louis could only make some boulders and uneven ground.

“Not to worry” thought Louis. He was prepared to wait another day.

The prize he was after was worth being patient for.

“Very well!” said Louis, turning to Dr. Jerome. “We will begin our
search at the start of dawn. I shall - with Kas’ help - entice some
villagers to help us find the ‘Three Crowns’ amongst the mountains. The place where the Temple stands. They will lead us there and if necessary will work to uncover the Temple for us”

“And if they don’t?” asked Dr. Jerome.

Kas made a menacing step forward.

“I think you know what will happen if they don’t” replied Louis.

Louis turned to Kas, about to say something, but Dr. Jerome
interrupted. “But Louis, where are we going to stay?” he asked.

“We will have to sleep in the truck tonight”

“The truck?” Dr. Jerome asked, frowning.

“Perhaps you want to walk to the nearest town and stay at a
hotel, doctor?” Louis asked. It was obvious from the muttered
swearwords coming from Dr. Jerome that he was going to have to make
do with a seat in the truck for the night.

. . .

It had taken a full day to get to Bizerte.

Indy had - through what money he could scrape together and a heavy amount of persuasion - got a ride aboard a merchant ship sailing to Tunisia. He had been dropped off on the coast, and had to make his own way to the dig site where Sallah was working.

A car ride, a long walk and with less money than when he set out, Indy was now standing outside the 'Hotel Bizerte' dig site; an
impressive sprawl of land that to Indy’s eye was empty save for fifty or so workers digging at the soil.

Making his way into the main area of the site, Indy looked around trying to find Sallah.

Nothing.

He was nowhere in sight.

Indy cursed his own luck.

He seemed to have run out of it ever since he left America. If he couldn’t find Sallah,then he couldn’t make it to Chad. Indy desperately needed transport, a guide and help. Hopefully Sallah was going to be all three of those things.

If Indy could find him.

Indy approached a worker. “Sallah?” he asked.

The worker stopped for a second, looked up and down the length
of the site, then shrugged his shoulders, continuing to dig. Indy walked past, trying to identify his portly friend.

“You! What are you doing? This is private property!” a deep voice
boomed behind Indy.

In his desperation to find Sallah, Indy must have ignored the ‘Private’ sign outside the dig site.

“I demand an answer!” the voice continued.

Indy turned, ready for an argument.

But instead he found Sallah grinning back at him.

“Indiana! My good friend!” Sallah proclaimed.

He grabbed Indy in a crushing grasp that threatened to take the life out of him.

Sallah noticed this and let go of Indy and with a look of embarrassment quietly said “Sorry, Indy"


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