Indiana Jones and the Tale of Two Tales. Part 4 (CHAPTER 3)

Posted by Roy from webcache-20.p.ps.ifl.net on September 14, 2000 at 04:27:59:

Another chapter in this tale... I hope you like it so far... Roy.

Chapter 3. Of mice and men.

It was seven thirty in the morning. Indy drew up outside his house once more and yawned irritably. He was very tired and annoyed at recent events. He had driven all the way to his fathers house and found it to be locked up and quiet and the housekeeper, Mrs. Tibbs, had informed him that Doctor Jones senior was still away on business and would be back at noon the next day. She looked at Indy as if he were mad when he tried to explain about the ‘phone call and was clearly not happy with being disturbed in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. In fact, she pointed out rather brusquely Indy felt, that she had only spoken to Doctor Jones senior on the telephone at the local store some five or six hours previously, and he had been nowhere near the house for several days. Neither had anyone else, for that matter.

There was certainly something strange going on Indy considered, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Deciding against going back into his own house, he turned his car around and drove over to Marcus’ place. Perhaps he could glean some further information there as it seemed that the request not to inform him about the affair was now apparently rather pointless.

Indy turned the sedan into the quiet street where Marcus lived alone and was mildly surprised to see people and cars everywhere. He thought it decidedly odd this early in the morning for so many people to be about in what was usually a very quiet suburban area. Then he realised with a feeling of growing disquiet that the activity was mainly caused by officers of the police. There were several squad cars and detectives were questioning the residents of the street. A feeling of unreasonable panic gripped Indy, as if he almost knew what to expect and his fears were confirmed when he saw two uniformed men standing sentinel at Marcus’ front door. Indy’s stomach churned and his pulse raced as he drew up outside Marcus’ house and saw the door was open and Police officers were wandering in and out. There were several young officers taking photographs and others were making casts of footprints and questioning neighbours.

A tall man in a grey raincoat stood making notes on a small pad. By the way other police officers stood patiently around him it was clear he was the detective in charge. Indy switched off the engine and climbed from his car, approached and tapped the man on the arm.

"Excuse me...." He began.

"Just a minute sir..." The detective interrupted, then , looking up from his notes, his jaw almost dropped open.

"FREEZE!" Around half a dozen voices yelled at once and Indy was stunned to feel the barrel of a revolver jabbed into the side of his face from behind. He raised his hands carefully.

"Now hold on..." He stammered. "I’m..."

"We know who you are, Doctor Jones. You’re under arrest. Anything you say..."

"NOW WAIT A MINUTE!" Indy shouted as his arms were yanked down and behind him, cuffs snapping around his wrists. Police officers circled him with guns raised as Indy, still yelling and demanding to know what was happening was bundled roughly into the back of a nearby squad car and driven off at high speed. The whole incident was over in moments, leaving the residents of the street pointing and chattering frantically.

Questioning the police in the car brought nothing but silence and Indy arrived seething with indignation at the Police station some five minutes later no further forward in his claimed lack of knowledge of events.

The entrance area was cold and uninviting with dreary grey painted walls and hard benches for furniture. A long dark brown wooden desk divided the members of the public from the rest of the station and the only access through was by a hinged wooden flap. Indy was shoved up against the desk and his cuffs removed. He rubbed at his tingling wrists, trying to restore the circulation to his numb fingers.

The Sergeant on the other side of the desk did not even acknowledge he was there and continued writing on a piece of paper without so much as looking up.

"Will someone tell me...!" Indy began but was cut off by the Sergeants suddenly raised finger indicating silence. Indy could not help smiling at how much it reminded him of Dad, many years ago.

"You want me to count to ten?" He murmured quizzically. The Sergeant ignored the meaningless comment and looked up, smiling like a cat with the cream.

"Jones. Doctor Indiana." He had a heavy Irish accent which further reminded Indy of dads Scottish lilt.

"Well now. What have we been up to then?" The Sergeant looked at Indy’s restraining officers and nodded.

Without a further word of explanation he was fingerprinted and roughly searched. A look of total damnation greeted him from the desk sergeant as his Webley revolver was taken from his inside pocket.

"Cigarette lighter, is it, sir?" The cocky Irish desk Sergeant said, bagging the gun and writing furiously on the report sheet. Indy shook his head in exasperation.

"It’s my old service revolver. I have a licence for it."

"Do you often carry it when you visit Doctor Brody?"

"Look! Will someone tell me what the hell’s going on?!" Indy kicked the desk in frustration. The Sergeant looked up but said nothing to him. Then the whip was placed on the desk by an earnest young officer.

"It was hidden inside his jacket, hitched to his belt." The sergeant raised his eyebrows.

"Bull fighter, are we?" Indy kept silent and the desk officer continued writing. Any form of further question from Indy was only greeted by the comment, "You’ll have plenty of time to talk when you’re asked to."

The flap in the desk was raised and Indy was led through, along a dimly lit corridor, down a flight of stone steps and thrown into a damp, cold cell. The door banged closed and the ominous click of the lock was like the tolling of the bell of doom.

The Police officers footsteps echoed into the distance and virtual silence followed.

Indy stood and yelled through the small iron barred window, rattling at the door but there was no reply. The only sounds that greeted him was the hacking cough and drunken mumblings of an alcoholic in an opposite cell. The wracking, chesty rattle of phlegm made Indy retch. He sat on the hard wooden bunk and pondered what had happened. Why had Richards been given false information to pass on to him? Were any of the events at Marcus’ house connected? Was dad involved in any way? Did it have anything to do with the episode in Switzerland? Indy laid back on the bunk and stared at the peeling, flaky paint on the ceiling, the questions going round and round in his mind. He had no answers. A quiet, squeaking sound came from somewhere beneath him, and Indy became vaguely aware of it. He rolled over and peered under the bunk. A small grey mouse, sitting on its’ haunches stared back at him.

"You stuck in here too?" Indy chuckled. The mouse turned and scuttled away, disappearing into a crack in the masonry.

"Guess not." He added with a shrug. He sighed, rolled back onto the bunk and closed his eyes. Several hours passed but Indy had lost track of time. He knew it was near noon, as he was famished and no one had brought him so much as a cup of coffee. His mood was sombre, which surprised him, as he would have expected that being detained without reason and then being left with no explanation would be enough to make anyone more than a little mad. He dimly realised he was confused more than anything. He wanted some answers and that frustrated him but he was mature enough to realise that yelling would get him nowhere. It certainly hadn’t achieved anything so far.

From somewhere above, Indy heard the drip, drip, drip of water. He reasoned that it was probably raining outside. At least he was inside and dry.

Then there were footsteps and his door lock rattled. Indy swung his legs to the floor and almost leaped off the bunk. Two police officers entered without comment and nodded toward the door indicating that Indy should move ahead of them. One of the officers stepped to one side as he patted the open palm of one hand with a heavy truncheon which spoke louder than any words that Indy should comply.

"About time." Indy growled. "Now will someone tell me what the hell’s going on here." The second officer grabbed Indy by one elbow and propelled him toward the door.

"Sergeant O’Reilly wants you upstairs." He said in a forced, belligerent tone, indicating that he was not as confident in his actions as he tried to sound. He knew nothing about this tall, unshaven man who had been brought in for questioning in connection with an apparent forced entry and assault at a house on the edge of town last night. He looked at Indy and realised he was no match for him physically and this made his manner all the more brusque and business like.

"Just get on up there and don’t give us none of your lip." Indy sighed and allowed himself to be led upstairs, along the dimly lit corridor and through a door marked ‘Interview room 2’. The room was sparsely decorated in the same drab grey with only one desk, three chairs and a telephone. Two chairs faced the third across the desk. Indy was pushed unceremoniously into the solo chair and the two officers moved over to the door and stood, one on each side.

Indy looked back at them and made a face indicating his annoyance. He made no comments as by now he knew he would get no answers from them He would have to wait until someone of authority...

"Jones! Henry Jones Junior!" A voice boomed as the door to the interview room swung suddenly open. Indy spun round in his seat to come face to face with the form of a huge, bear sized man whose face was almost entirely obscured by an apparently unstoppable growth of thick wiry hair. The man yanked Indy from his seat by one arm, and pumped his hand furiously in greeting.

"You two can leave!" He said to the two waiting officers in a tone that brooked no argument. The men looked at each other for a moment, knowing it was against all policy and rules for them to leave the prisoner alone with only the questioning officer.

"NOW!" The bear yelled. The officers fled leaving Indy staring speechlessly at the newcomer.

"Ajmeed?" Indy said, questioningly. The huge man laughed and pumped Indy’s hand again.

"DETECTIVE Ajmeed!" He boomed, not releasing his vice like grip on Indy’s hand. He slapped Indy on the shoulder, a blow that could almost break bones, and sat on the edge of the desk.

"But you were in Cairo the last time I saw you...." Indy began

"With that shiftless brother of mine, Sallah!" Ajmeed boomed. "But I have moved here now. Promotion, if you will! And you still owe me for my car!" He laughed again and Indy moved back to avoid another ‘playful’ slap.

"Ajmeed, What’s going on? Why am I here?"

The huge mans tone changed from that of an old, long lost friend to one of concern.

"The commissioner wants heads over this, Indiana. I will do what I can, but unless you have a very good reason for what you and Marcus have been up to, then I’m afraid there is little I can do to help. Please, tell me what has happened." The look of confusion on Indy’s face took the man slightly off guard for a moment.

"Ajmeed, I really have no idea of what is going on. Why were all those officers in Marcus’ house. What’s he done?"

Ajmeed stood and paced the room for a few moments, thinking. He turned and looked at Indy.

"Tell me everything you have done since your arrival back in the country." The look of surprise on Indy’s face made him smile. "Yes, we know you came back from your trip to Switzerland unexpectedly. What I would like to know is why, and where you have been since then."

Indy was about to begin his tale but Ajmeed stopped him saying, "Have you had any breakfast?" Indy shook his head.

Ajmeed nodded and lifted the telephone on the desk and dialled a number.

"Get me a full breakfast. Interview 2. Yes, now..... Wait..." He held the phone away from himself a moment and spoke to Indy. "Coffee?"

Indy nodded in anticipation. "Black. No sugar."

"Black coffee. No sugar. Make that two. Yes, you heard. Two of everything. And make it sometime today, can you?", he added sarcastically. He replaced the receiver then nodded to Indy to continue.

For the next ten minutes, Indy recalled the tale of the unexplained attack in Switzerland and the men who had been in search of something belonging to Marcus. He began to expand upon the further attack in the hotel bedroom and the cryptic telephone call regarding his father when the door to the interview room opened and two officers entered carrying trays laden with plates of food and pots of steaming coffee. The trays were set in front of Indy and Ajmeed and the officers left.

Ajmeed grinned. "The food here is better than at my old station in Cairo. Come, eat up. We can resume business after. Tell me. What happened to Miss Ravenwood after that affair with the tomb of Cleopatra?"

Indy smiled and began to attack a slice of grilled bacon ravenously. For the next half hour he almost forgot his troubles as he and Ajmeed exchanged outrageous stories about the times since they had last met. Finally, the trays were pushed aside, devoid of any food and they sat pondering quietly for a while, Indy staring into his cup of coffee, Ajmeed watching him.

"What’s going on, Ajmeed. Why was I arrested. What’s Marcus up to and what’s he done?"

Ajmeed sighed and placed his cup on the table. "You and I are old friends, Indy. I have known you and Marcus for many, many years. You have been in all kinds of scrapes and more than once, I have bent the rules or turned a blind eye to help you."

Indy nodded, saying, "I know all that, but what are we talking about here? Do you know who these guys were who attacked me and Marcus? And you still haven’t told me what happened at Marcus’ house last night."

Ajmeed stood and walked round the table, sitting once more on one corner. "Indy. Marcus’ house was broken into last night and he was attacked."

Indy almost jumped from his seat with astonishment. The reaction did not go unnoticed by Ajmeed.

"But what’s that got to do with me? Is Marcus all right? What did they want?" Indy’s thoughts flowed faster than he could get the words out.

"You were seen, Indy. Leaving the house through a side window. You were seen driving off in your car."

"WHAT? IT WASN’T ME!" Indy exclaimed indignantly, confused by the sudden twist of events. "I told you where I was. Mrs. Tibbs, dads housekeeper can verify it."

Ajmeed nodded, writing notes as Indy spoke. He called in an officer to telephone Indy’s fathers house to confirm his story with Mrs. Tibbs. The officer took the scrap of paper, nodded, and left the interview room.

"You could have gone to Marcus’ house before you drove to your fathers. I’m sorry, Indy, but as an alibi, it won’t do."

"ALIBI!" Indy yelled. "WHY THE HELL SHOULD I NEED AN ALIBI!" He tried to calm himself down. "Look, Ajmeed. This is crazy. It’s a mistake. Someone’s made a mistake. Sure, I even thought of calling on Marcus on the way, but I didn’t. I went straight to dads place." Then he added in a quieter tone, his voice trembling with the effort, "Call Jerry Sutherland at the college. He can confirm the call about dad.".

Ajmeed stood and paced the small room, considering Indy’s words.

"I want to believe you, Indy, but there was more than one witness at Brody’s house. One of them claims you even spoke to them on the way to your car."

"WHAT?!" Indy cried. "That’s insane!"

"You called out that there was no trouble. Just a small disagreement between you and Doctor Brody. Indy, they even got your car description and licence. It was you. And not only that. It’s strange you should mention Jerry Sutherland."

Indy was instantly wary. "Why. What’s Jerry done?"

Ajmeed looked at Indy long and hard. "He was fished out of the river this morning. He’s dead."

Indy’s thoughts reeled at the apparent insanity of what he was hearing. "Ajmeed. You can’t really.... Ask Marcus!" He suddenly exclaimed, an instant wave of relief washing over him. Of course. Marcus could explain everything, but the look on Ajmeed’s face spoke of trouble and Indy’s stomach began to tie itself in knots again.

"Ask Marcus? I’d love to Indy, I really would."

"What do you mean?" Indy said quietly, almost afraid to anticipate the answer in his mind.

Ajmeed stared at Indy and said in a flat tone,

"Marcus is dead, Indy. You’re looking at a charge of murder."

THE TEMPLE OF TALES

Follow Ups:

Post a Followup:

Name:    
E-Mail:  
Subject: 
Comments:

: Another chapter in this tale... I hope you like it so far... Roy.

: Chapter 3.    Of mice and men.

: It was seven thirty in the morning. Indy drew up outside his house once more and yawned irritably. He was very tired and annoyed at recent events. He had driven all the way to his fathers house and found it to be locked up and quiet and the housekeeper, Mrs. Tibbs, had informed him that Doctor Jones senior was still away on business and would be back at noon the next day. She looked at Indy as if he were mad when he tried to explain about the ‘phone call and was clearly not happy with being disturbed in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. In fact, she pointed out rather brusquely Indy felt, that she had only spoken to Doctor Jones senior on the telephone at the local store some five or six hours previously, and he had been nowhere near the house for several days. Neither had anyone else, for that matter.

: There was certainly something strange going on Indy considered, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

: Deciding against going back into his own house, he turned his car around and drove over to Marcus’ place. Perhaps he could glean some further information there as it seemed that the request not to inform him about the affair was now apparently rather pointless.

: Indy turned the sedan into the quiet street where Marcus lived alone and was mildly surprised to see people and cars everywhere. He thought it decidedly odd this early in the morning for so many people to be about in what was usually a very quiet suburban area. Then he realised with a feeling of growing disquiet that the activity was mainly caused by officers of the police. There were several squad cars and detectives were questioning the residents of the street. A feeling of unreasonable panic gripped Indy, as if he almost knew what to expect and his fears were confirmed when he saw two uniformed men standing sentinel at Marcus’ front door. Indy’s stomach churned and his pulse raced as he drew up outside Marcus’ house and saw the door was open and Police officers were wandering in and out. There were several young officers taking photographs and others were making casts of footprints and questioning neighbours.

: A tall man in a grey raincoat stood making notes on a small pad. By the way other police officers stood patiently around him it was clear he was the detective in charge. Indy switched off the engine and climbed from his car, approached and tapped the man on the arm.

: "Excuse me...." He began.

: "Just a minute sir..." The detective interrupted, then , looking up from his notes, his jaw almost dropped open.

: "FREEZE!" Around half a dozen voices yelled at once and Indy was stunned to feel the barrel of a revolver jabbed into the side of his face from behind. He raised his hands carefully.

: "Now hold on..." He stammered. "I’m..."

: "We know who you are, Doctor Jones. You’re under arrest. Anything you say..."

: "NOW WAIT A MINUTE!" Indy shouted as his arms were yanked down and behind him, cuffs snapping around his wrists. Police officers circled him with guns raised as Indy, still yelling and demanding to know what was happening was bundled roughly into the back of a nearby squad car and driven off at high speed. The whole incident was over in moments, leaving the residents of the street pointing and chattering frantically.

: Questioning the police in the car brought nothing but silence and Indy arrived seething with indignation at the Police station some five minutes later no further forward in his claimed lack of knowledge of events.

: The entrance area was cold and uninviting with dreary grey painted walls and hard benches for furniture. A long dark brown wooden desk divided the members of the public from the rest of the station and the only access through was by a hinged wooden flap. Indy was shoved up against the desk and his cuffs removed. He rubbed at his tingling wrists, trying to restore the circulation to his numb fingers.

: The Sergeant on the other side of the desk did not even acknowledge he was there and continued writing on a piece of paper without so much as looking up.

: "Will someone tell me...!" Indy began but was cut off by the Sergeants suddenly raised finger indicating silence. Indy could not help smiling at how much it reminded him of Dad, many years ago.

: "You want me to count to ten?" He murmured quizzically. The Sergeant ignored the meaningless comment and looked up, smiling like a cat with the cream.

: "Jones. Doctor Indiana." He had a heavy Irish accent which further reminded Indy of dads Scottish lilt.

: "Well now. What have we been up to then?" The Sergeant looked at Indy’s restraining officers and nodded.

: Without a further word of explanation he was fingerprinted and roughly searched. A look of total damnation greeted him from the desk sergeant as his Webley revolver was taken from his inside pocket.

: "Cigarette lighter, is it, sir?" The cocky Irish desk Sergeant said, bagging the gun and writing furiously on the report sheet. Indy shook his head in exasperation.

: "It’s my old service revolver. I have a licence for it."

: "Do you often carry it when you visit Doctor Brody?"

: "Look! Will someone tell me what the hell’s going on?!" Indy kicked the desk in frustration. The Sergeant looked up but said nothing to him. Then the whip was placed on the desk by an earnest young officer.

: "It was hidden inside his jacket, hitched to his belt." The sergeant raised his eyebrows.

: "Bull fighter, are we?" Indy kept silent and the desk officer continued writing. Any form of further question from Indy was only greeted by the comment, "You’ll have plenty of time to talk when you’re asked to."

: The flap in the desk was raised and Indy was led through, along a dimly lit corridor, down a flight of stone steps and thrown into a damp, cold cell. The door banged closed and the ominous click of the lock was like the tolling of the bell of doom.

: The Police officers footsteps echoed into the distance and virtual silence followed.

: Indy stood and yelled through the small iron barred window, rattling at the door but there was no reply. The only sounds that greeted him was the hacking cough and drunken mumblings of an alcoholic in an opposite cell. The wracking, chesty rattle of phlegm made Indy retch. He sat on the hard wooden bunk and pondered what had happened. Why had Richards been given false information to pass on to him? Were any of the events at Marcus’ house connected? Was dad involved in any way? Did it have anything to do with the episode in Switzerland? Indy laid back on the bunk and stared at the peeling, flaky paint on the ceiling, the questions going round and round in his mind. He had no answers. A quiet, squeaking sound came from somewhere beneath him, and Indy became vaguely aware of it. He rolled over and peered under the bunk. A small grey mouse, sitting on its’ haunches stared back at him.

: "You stuck in here too?" Indy chuckled. The mouse turned and scuttled away, disappearing into a crack in the masonry.

: "Guess not." He added with a shrug. He sighed, rolled back onto the bunk and closed his eyes. Several hours passed but Indy had lost track of time. He knew it was near noon, as he was famished and no one had brought him so much as a cup of coffee. His mood was sombre, which surprised him, as he would have expected that being detained without reason and then being left with no explanation would be enough to make anyone more than a little mad. He dimly realised he was confused more than anything. He wanted some answers and that frustrated him but he was mature enough to realise that yelling would get him nowhere. It certainly hadn’t achieved anything so far.

: From somewhere above, Indy heard the drip, drip, drip of water. He reasoned that it was probably raining outside. At least he was inside and dry.

: Then there were footsteps and his door lock rattled. Indy swung his legs to the floor and almost leaped off the bunk. Two police officers entered without comment and nodded toward the door indicating that Indy should move ahead of them. One of the officers stepped to one side as he patted the open palm of one hand with a heavy truncheon which spoke louder than any words that Indy should comply.

: "About time." Indy growled. "Now will someone tell me what the hell’s going on here." The second officer grabbed Indy by one elbow and propelled him toward the door.

: "Sergeant O’Reilly wants you upstairs." He said in a forced, belligerent tone, indicating that he was not as confident in his actions as he tried to sound. He knew nothing about this tall, unshaven man who had been brought in for questioning in connection with an apparent forced entry and assault at a house on the edge of town last night. He looked at Indy and realised he was no match for him physically and this made his manner all the more brusque and business like.

: "Just get on up there and don’t give us none of your lip." Indy sighed and allowed himself to be led upstairs, along the dimly lit corridor and through a door marked ‘Interview room 2’. The room was sparsely decorated in the same drab grey with only one desk, three chairs and a telephone. Two chairs faced the third across the desk. Indy was pushed unceremoniously into the solo chair and the two officers moved over to the door and stood, one on each side.

: Indy looked back at them and made a face indicating his annoyance. He made no comments as by now he knew he would get no answers from them He would have to wait until someone of authority...

: "Jones! Henry Jones Junior!" A voice boomed as the door to the interview room swung suddenly open. Indy spun round in his seat to come face to face with the form of a huge, bear sized man whose face was almost entirely obscured by an apparently unstoppable growth of thick wiry hair. The man yanked Indy from his seat by one arm, and pumped his hand furiously in greeting.

: "You two can leave!" He said to the two waiting officers in a tone that brooked no argument. The men looked at each other for a moment, knowing it was against all policy and rules for them to leave the prisoner alone with only the questioning officer.

: "NOW!" The bear yelled. The officers fled leaving Indy staring speechlessly at the newcomer.

: "Ajmeed?" Indy said, questioningly. The huge man laughed and pumped Indy’s hand again.

: "DETECTIVE Ajmeed!" He boomed, not releasing his vice like grip on Indy’s hand. He slapped Indy on the shoulder, a blow that could almost break bones, and sat on the edge of the desk.

: "But you were in Cairo the last time I saw you...." Indy began

: "With that shiftless brother of mine, Sallah!" Ajmeed boomed. "But I have moved here now. Promotion, if you will! And you still owe me for my car!" He laughed again and Indy moved back to avoid another ‘playful’ slap.

: "Ajmeed, What’s going on? Why am I here?"

: The huge mans tone changed from that of an old, long lost friend to one of concern.

: "The commissioner wants heads over this, Indiana. I will do what I can, but unless you have a very good reason for what you and Marcus have been up to, then I’m afraid there is little I can do to help. Please, tell me what has happened." The look of confusion on Indy’s face took the man slightly off guard for a moment.

: "Ajmeed, I really have no idea of what is going on. Why were all those officers in Marcus’ house. What’s he done?"

: Ajmeed stood and paced the room for a few moments, thinking. He turned and looked at Indy.

: "Tell me everything you have done since your arrival back in the country." The look of surprise on Indy’s face made him smile. "Yes, we know you came back from your trip to Switzerland unexpectedly. What I would like to know is why, and where you have been since then."

: Indy was about to begin his tale but Ajmeed stopped him saying, "Have you had any breakfast?" Indy shook his head.

: Ajmeed nodded and lifted the telephone on the desk and dialled a number.

: "Get me a full breakfast. Interview 2. Yes, now..... Wait..." He held the phone away from himself a moment and spoke to Indy. "Coffee?"

: Indy nodded in anticipation. "Black. No sugar."

: "Black coffee. No sugar. Make that two. Yes, you heard. Two of everything. And make it sometime today, can you?", he added sarcastically. He replaced the receiver then nodded to Indy to continue.

: For the next ten minutes, Indy recalled the tale of the unexplained attack in Switzerland and the men who had been in search of something belonging to Marcus. He began to expand upon the further attack in the hotel bedroom and the cryptic telephone call regarding his father when the door to the interview room opened and two officers entered carrying trays laden with plates of food and pots of steaming coffee. The trays were set in front of Indy and Ajmeed and the officers left.

: Ajmeed grinned. "The food here is better than at my old station in Cairo. Come, eat up. We can resume business after. Tell me. What happened to Miss Ravenwood after that affair with the tomb of Cleopatra?"

: Indy smiled and began to attack a slice of grilled bacon ravenously. For the next half hour he almost forgot his troubles as he and Ajmeed exchanged outrageous stories about the times since they had last met. Finally, the trays were pushed aside, devoid of any food and they sat pondering quietly for a while, Indy staring into his cup of coffee, Ajmeed watching him.

: "What’s going on, Ajmeed. Why was I arrested. What’s Marcus up to and what’s he done?"

: Ajmeed sighed and placed his cup on the table. "You and I are old friends, Indy. I have known you and Marcus for many, many years. You have been in all kinds of scrapes and more than once, I have bent the rules or turned a blind eye to help you."

: Indy nodded, saying, "I know all that, but what are we talking about here? Do you know who these guys were who attacked me and Marcus? And you still haven’t told me what happened at Marcus’ house last night."

: Ajmeed stood and walked round the table, sitting once more on one corner. "Indy. Marcus’ house was broken into last night and he was attacked."

: Indy almost jumped from his seat with astonishment. The reaction did not go unnoticed by Ajmeed.

: "But what’s that got to do with me? Is Marcus all right? What did they want?" Indy’s thoughts flowed faster than he could get the words out.

: "You were seen, Indy. Leaving the house through a side window. You were seen driving off in your car."

: "WHAT? IT WASN’T ME!" Indy exclaimed indignantly, confused by the sudden twist of events. "I told you where I was. Mrs. Tibbs, dads housekeeper can verify it."

: Ajmeed nodded, writing notes as Indy spoke. He called in an officer to telephone Indy’s fathers house to confirm his story with Mrs. Tibbs. The officer took the scrap of paper, nodded, and left the interview room.

: "You could have gone to Marcus’ house before you drove to your fathers. I’m sorry, Indy, but as an alibi, it won’t do."

: "ALIBI!" Indy yelled. "WHY THE HELL SHOULD I NEED AN ALIBI!" He tried to calm himself down. "Look, Ajmeed. This is crazy. It’s a mistake. Someone’s made a mistake. Sure, I even thought of calling on Marcus on the way, but I didn’t. I went straight to dads place." Then he added in a quieter tone, his voice trembling with the effort, "Call Jerry Sutherland at the college. He can confirm the call about dad.".

: Ajmeed stood and paced the small room, considering Indy’s words.

: "I want to believe you, Indy, but there was more than one witness at Brody’s house. One of them claims you even spoke to them on the way to your car."

: "WHAT?!" Indy cried. "That’s insane!"

: "You called out that there was no trouble. Just a small disagreement between you and Doctor Brody. Indy, they even got your car description and licence. It was you. And not only that. It’s strange you should mention Jerry Sutherland."

: Indy was instantly wary. "Why. What’s Jerry done?"

: Ajmeed looked at Indy long and hard. "He was fished out of the river this morning. He’s dead."

: Indy’s thoughts reeled at the apparent insanity of what he was hearing. "Ajmeed. You can’t really.... Ask Marcus!" He suddenly exclaimed, an instant wave of relief washing over him. Of course. Marcus could explain everything, but the look on Ajmeed’s face spoke of trouble and Indy’s stomach began to tie itself in knots again.

: "Ask Marcus? I’d love to Indy, I really would."

: "What do you mean?" Indy said quietly, almost afraid to anticipate the answer in his mind.

: Ajmeed stared at Indy and said in a flat tone,

: "Marcus is dead, Indy. You’re looking at a charge of murder."

Optional:

Link URL:   
Link Title: 
Image URL:

[ Follow Ups ] [ Post Followup ] [ The Indyfan Forum ] [ FAQ ]