Indiana Jones and the Secretof the Sphinx (5 page)

Indy fell into the muddy street outside the prison and attempted a forward roll, but his nonresponsive shoulder left him on his back. His shoulder was throbbing and numb at the same time, the way your thumb is when you hit it with a hammer while trying to drive a nail. He didn't think the bullet had struck bone, but it was difficult to be sure. He grimaced and tucked his left arm protectively into his jacket, leaving the sleeve empty.

Then he was on his feet and running.

It was dusk and he made for the shadows that pooled beneath the gables of a deserted warehouse at the end of the street. Apart from a pair of chickens that scolded Indy for his rudeness, the street was deserted.

Posters in Chinese and French tacked to the weathered fence declared that the warehouse had been seized by the Imperial Army, was the property of the emperor, and trespassers would be shot. Indy had some difficulty scaling the fence, and as he dropped to the ground on the other side, he could hear the steady
tromp-tromp
of boots coming down the street.

The warehouse was a dark cave inside, and Indy could hear the cooing of pigeons in the rafters. He made his way quickly through the darkness, found a door at the rear of the building, shouldered his way past it, and discovered the end of a crooked, narrow alley.

The alley was a makeshift home to many dozens of families who had been displaced by the Japanese, and Indy had to hurdle cooking fires, squeeze between packing crates, and duck beneath clotheslines. Once he had to flatten himself against a doorway as a squad of soldiers passed at the intersection of a nearby street, and he held his finger to his lips to urge quiet from a family living in a crate as they stared impassively at him and ate from bowls of cold rice.

It was apparent that he was heading deeper into the older section of the city, but he had no idea which city. When he asked where he was, those brave enough to answer or to ask if he was hurt badly spoke a dialect he didn't understand. So he kept pressing on, hoping to find a landmark or some other sign that would give him a clue—and an idea of which way to run for safety. But every block looked the same as the last, other than its being more crowded and difficult to traverse.

Exhausted, Indy finally slowed to a walk.

A Japanese soldier on a motorcycle pulled up to the intersection of the last street Indy had crossed. He let the bike idle while he swung the handlebars to the left and right, searching the intersection with the beam of the headlight. The beam revealed the blood that Indy had trailed. The soldier shouted in Japanese and honked furiously to attract the attention of the other soldiers, then gunned the bike's engine and tore down the alley while refugees scrambled to get out of the way.

Indy heard the shouts and began to run.

The motorcycle soldier continued at breakneck speed down the alley, cutting through clotheslines and scattering cooking fires. He finally hit a clothesline that refused to yield, and that promptly snatched him from the seat of the bike.

Indy emerged from the alley into a public square in the city's old quarter. A thousand or more people were standing shoulder to shoulder to see a performance taking place in the center of the square on a traveling stage made from an old flatbed wagon. The stage was lit by hanging lanterns and candle-powered footlights.

A blonde woman in dark robes covered with the usual assortment of hex symbols delivered a magician's patter in English, assisted by a dark-haired girl of perhaps sixteen. The teenaged assistant wore a yellow, loose-fitting silk outfit, including a tasseled cap with bells.

The magician paused every few sentences to allow a Chinese translator to give a more or less accurate account in the local dialect.

Indy shouldered his way into the crowd.

The magician pointed to the right. There was a bang, followed by a red scarf that floated out of a puff of smoke. Indy ducked involuntarily at the report. The magician pointed to the left. Another bang, and a green scarf floated down.

"Have you liked our show so far?" the magician asked.

The translator asked the crowd.

There was scattered applause and the beating of walking sticks on the ground.

"Well, the best is yet to come!" she promised. "Please show your appreciation by whatever you can spare—a bit of change, some food, a good wish if necessary. While my assistant, Mystery, passes the basket for donations, let me tell you something about our family."

She paused to allow the translator to catch up.

Indy noticed that more Japanese soldiers were beginning to arrive around the square. He worked his way deeper into the crowd, toward the stage.

"My name is Faye Maskelyne, and we are members of the world's first family of magic. Those of you who have visited fair London certainly know of our reputation, and those of you who have not had the pleasure will tonight see some of our finest illusions. But why, you might ask, are a mistress of magic and her able assistant touring for pennies in far-off venues when they could be earning a fortune and adulation undying from the comfort of their ancestral home?"

The translator had a bit of trouble with this last.

"I'll tell you," Faye continued. "The answer lies in the photograph that Mystery carries with her basket. Take a good look at it, friends, and tell her if you've seen this man. He is the object of our search. His name is Kaspar Maskelyne, and he is Mystery's father. He is also, of course, my husband."

The Japanese had now surrounded the square. Lieutenant Musashi scrambled onto the hood of a truck for a better view. Her hair was still unbound, and she was directing the search with Sokai's unsheathed sword.

"Kaspar Maskelyne came to the mysterious East four years ago, searching for a book of secret knowledge told of by the ancient Arab scholar, Ibn Battuta." Faye snapped her fingers and a book danced high over the heads of the crowd. "This book—the legendary Omega Book—contains a complete record of the lives of every soul who will ever live on this earth, and all of the secrets of nature. Every religion refers to it. There are different names for it, but it is the same book. And it can only be found with the aid of the Staff of Aaron."

Faye snapped her fingers again, and the book disappeared. At the same time, a staff appeared from a cloud of smoke on the stage. Slithering around the staff was a snake.

"The same staff that Moses turned into a serpent before the pharaoh's magicians, that brought down the plagues upon Egypt, and that parted the Red Sea. The original magician's wand!"

Faye clapped her hands. The snake disappeared and a flowering almond tree took its place. The translator was having a difficult time keeping up, and the crowd seemed lost.

"You all know about Moses, right?" Faye asked. "The staff turning into an almond tree in the desert? Okay, let's move on. You've all heard of the rope trick, right? Announce the rope trick, for God's sake."

The translator did so, and the crowd made appreciative sounds.

Mystery placed the offerings basket and photograph at the feet of the translator and returned to the stage.

"Our old friend Ibn Battuta called himself the traveler," Faye said. "And for good reason, because in 1355 he went so far as to visit the court of the Great Khan, and it is there that Battuta first recorded an account of what has become the most famous conjuration in magic—the Rope Trick."

Mystery dragged an oversized trunk onto the stage. She opened it, retrieved a small spear from it, and reached into the trunk for the end of a coiled rope. She tied the rope to the haft of the spear, then stood at the ready with it.

"Many have tried over the centuries to duplicate the miracle that occurred that night in Khan's court, but none have succeeded—until now. In our extensive traveling we have learned the necessary black art, and are pleased to present it to you now."

Mystery handed over the spear.

Faye turned and threw the spear upward. It disappeared into the darkness. The rope followed behind, uncoiling from the box, then hung, clearly suspended in midair.

The crowd gasped.

The soldiers elbowed their way through the crowd in a slow and deliberate search pattern that would soon pin Indy against the stage. Faye noted the uniforms moving through the audience, but pressed on with her act.

"There is an ogre living in the clouds," Faye announced. "He guards an immense treasure. He has vowed to rip anyone to shreds who attempts to steal it. But you, my lithe assistant, are up to the challenge."

Mystery's head swiveled from side to side.

"Up!" she commanded and pointed at the rope.

Mystery was having none of it.

Faye shook her head and looked at the audience. She again pointed at the rope and commanded Mystery to climb it.

The assistant backed away.

Faye produced a wand from her robes and aimed it at the assistant. She mumbled some words that sounded like pig Latin, and the assistant pretended to be irresistibly drawn toward the rope. She stepped into the box, then grasped the rope with both hands. Slowly, she began to climb the rope hand-over-hand, and the sight of her ascending the rope was made even more dramatic because she did not use her legs to propel herself upward.

"That's one athletic assistant," Indy mumbled as he turned up his collar and slouched against one of the wagon wheels. Two of the soldiers were now almost close enough to touch him.

Faye aimed her wand again.

In a puff of smoke, the assistant disappeared into the darkness. At the same instant, Indy ducked beneath the wagon and, in a running crouch, made for the other side. When he emerged, another soldier was waiting for him.

Indy ducked back beneath the wagon.

Above, Faye was calling elaborately to her assistant, and Mystery was answering in a far-off voice. Then there was the sound of a terrible fight, screaming and the ripping of cloth, and a few bits of tattered yellow silk floated down. Many of the pieces had conspicuously large drops of "blood" on them, and Faye picked one of these up and regarded it sadly. Then she drew her wand and began to recite a string of mumbo jumbo that grew in intensity as she made lazy circles with the wand.

It was dark beneath the wagon. Indy was crouching, waiting to see what the soldiers would do, when someone butted against him.

They both recoiled in surprise.

"Who are you?" a female voice asked.

"Who are
you?"
Indy asked.

"I'm the assistant," Mystery said as she crawled past. "You're not supposed to be under here. Go away."

"I'm hiding from those goons out there," Indy said.

"Saw 'em," Mystery said as she moved to a trapdoor that was hanging open. It was beneath the oversized box that the rope had come from. "Sorry, mister, but I've got a show to finish."

The mumbo jumbo above them stopped.

"That's my cue," she said as she climbed into place. "Good luck."

There was an explosion, the usual smoke, and Mystery jumped from the box, restored.

"Good luck," Indy snorted as the soldiers began crawling beneath the wagon.

The Maskelynes were a hit in Manchuria. The crowd yelled, clapped, and stamped its collective feet. Faye clasped Mystery's hand and together they took a long, dramatic bow.

Then, the crowd began to ooh and aah again as Indy climbed out of the magic box, followed by the heads of a pair of bewildered-looking soldiers.

"Sorry," Indy said over his shoulder as he slammed down the lid and sat on the box.

"Don't mention it," Faye said over the audience's laughter. "They seem to like broad comedy. And you seem to be bleeding. Are you hurt badly?"

"I'll live," Indy said as he fought to keep the lid down. Then, he added: "I hope."

"Silence!" Lieutenant Musashi screamed from the hood of the truck. "Stop the American. He is a criminal. You there, on the stage."

"Us?" Faye asked.

"Stop him!"

"What do you want us to do?"

"Grab him, hold him."

"We can't do that," Faye said. "He's not part of the act."

"Then you will be in prison with him," Musashi said as she scrambled down from the truck. The crowd parted for her and the upraised sword.

Indy was fighting a losing battle with the box lid, as five soldiers were now pushing upward against it.

"The rope," Mystery said beneath her breath. "It's attached to a wire which is hung from the roofs of the buildings on either side."

"I don't think I can climb," Indy said.

"You'd better try," Faye said with a smile as she took another bow. "Mystery, why don't you help him."

Mystery smiled at the crowd as she walked slowly over to Indy, stepped up on the box lid with him, then reached down and set the lock. "There's a trick to it," she explained. "There's a counterweight on the other end. When I trip the cable, you're going to fly up like a bird." She took the end of the dangling rope and hitched it beneath Indy's shoulders.

"What about the two of you?"

"Don't worry about us," Mystery said.

"I'll stay here and fight," Indy said. "Let me—"

"How much do you weigh?"

"A hundred and seventy," he said.

"Too bad," she said.

"Why?" Indy asked. "Is that bad?"

"The rope is rated for a hundred and fifty," Mystery said and stood on the lever, behind the box, to trip the cable. Indy rose gracefully into the air, beyond the reach of the lantern light.

"Shoot him!" Lieutenant Musashi screamed.

The confused soldiers pointed their guns into the darkness, but did not fire. No target was visible, and they could not overcome their reluctance to fire indiscriminately in a populated area.

"What are you waiting for?" Musashi asked as she jumped up on the stage. "Fill the air with bullets."

"But Lieutenant," a sergeant stammered. "We have no lights. The square is filled with people. All of the surrounding buildings are occupied as well."

"You have hesitated too long," Musashi said through clenched teeth. "The American has had time to escape. Gather your men and search the rooftops. And, Sergeant—report to me later for disciplinary action."

"Yes, Lieutenant."