The Adventures Of Indiana Jones (68 page)

He motioned the Nazi guards to take them to the steps. They were shoved forward and lined up opposite the sultan’s soldiers. Targets in a shooting gallery, Indy thought.

Elsa stepped out from behind the soldiers and walked over to Indy. “I never expected to see you again.”

“I’m like a bad penny. I keep showing up.”

Donovan laid a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. “Step back now, Dr. Schneider,” His tone was disdainful, as if he questioned her loyalty. “Give Indiana some room.”

Elsa ignored him a moment, holding her ground. She stared at Indy as if she didn’t really believe she was standing in front of him.

Indy looked away. It was no time to renew old acquaintances, especially with her.

“Dr. Jones is going to recover the Grail for us,” Donovan said.

Indy glanced in the direction of the decapitated bodies and laughed. The third soldier had stopped halfway up the steps and was slowly working his way down, acting as if no one saw him.

“You think it’s funny. Here’s your chance to go down in history if you are successful. What do you say, Indiana Jones?”

“Go down in history as what, Donovan, a Nazi stooge like you?”

Donovan regarded him for a moment, and Indy couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused. Then Donovan smiled and shook his head, as though Indy were a child who had said something stupid. “The Nazis,” he spat. “That’s the limit of your vision?”

Indy didn’t bother to answer him.

“The Nazis want to write themselves into the Grail legend and take on the world,” Donovan continued. “They’re welcome. Dr. Schneider and I want the Grail itself, the cup that gives everlasting life. Hitler can have the world, but he can’t take it with him.”

He moved closer to Indy, jutting out his square jaw. “I’m going to be drinking to my own health when he’s gone the way of the dodo.”

He pulled a pistol from his pocket and aimed it between Indy’s eyes. He took a step backward. “The Grail is mine, and you’re going to get it for me.”

Indy grinned, feigning indifference. “Aren’t you forgetting about Dr. Schneider?”

Donovan smiled. “She comes with the Grail. Too bad for you.”

Indy’s eyes strayed to Elsa, who was standing a few steps behind Donovan. Her face was a mask—lovely, soft, a riddle.

Donovan cocked the pistol. “Move.”

Indy pointed at the gun. “Shooting me won’t get you anywhere.”

Donovan knew he was right. For a moment he didn’t answer. Then his eyes slid to Henry and back again to Indy, and a slow smile spread across his face. “You know something, Dr. Jones? I totally agree with you. You’re absolutely right.”

He turned to Henry, aimed the gun at him.

“No!” Elsa and Indy yelled simultaneously.

But Donovan fired, hitting him in the stomach at point-blank range.

Henry’s hands covered his stomach. He stumbled, and turned toward Indy.

“Dad!”

Elsa ran forward. Donovan caught her and shoved her back. “Stay out of this.”

Henry collapsed in his son’s arms. Brody and Sallah rushed over as Indy gently lowered him to the ground. Sallah cradled Henry’s head, and Brody knelt down next to him.

Indy ripped open his father’s shirt; the gaping wound nearly made him gag. Brody pushed a handkerchief into Indy’s hand, and he pressed it against his father’s abdomen. He held it there to slow the bleeding. Then he noticed the bullet had exited through his father’s side, where there was more blood. He spoke softly to him, telling him it was going to be all right, really it was, and hoped to God his voice was convincing.

“Get up, Jones,” Donovan snapped.

Indy whipped his head around, hate filling his eyes, and leapt to his feet as Brody cradled Henry. He was about to go for Donovan’s throat, then hesitated when Donovan cocked his weapon.

“You can’t save him if you’re dead,” Donovan said, training the gun on Indy’s heart. “The healing power of the Grail is the only thing that can save your father now.” He paused a moment. “Do you doubt me? It’s time to ask yourself what to believe.”

Henry groaned and coughed.

“Indy,” Sallah called out. “He’s not good.”

He turned and knelt next to his father again. Brody whispered that Henry was badly injured. Indy nodded. He knew, he knew, he had eyes.

“The Grail is the only chance he’s got,” Donovan said, smiling with certainty that Indy would accept the challenge, that Indy did not, in fact, even have a choice.

Indy looked up at Brody. “He’s right. The Grail can save him, Indy. I believe it. You must, too.”

Under other circumstances Indy might have laughed at the idea. But this was his father, and he was dying. He nodded to Brody, then reached in his pouch for the Grail diary. He was about to stand up, when Henry’s hand fell on his wrist.

“Remember . . . the Breath of God.”

“I will, Dad. And I’ll get the Grail. For you.”

I
NDY CLUTCHED THE GRAIL DIARY
and peered warily up the flight of steps. He could see an archway at the top and a dark passage. He drew in a deep breath and slowly climbed toward the two headless bodies.

Halfway up he stopped.

The silence was broken by the sound of cartridges slamming into the chambers of the sultan’s soldiers’ guns. The sound echoed in the temple. Donovan had told the soldiers to shoot him if he attempted to flee. They were definitely following his orders.

Indy opened the Grail diary and looked down at it. The light was dim and the writing a blur. But he had to find a way past the arch—the Breath of God. His father was lying on the ground, bleeding to death; he had to help him. He had to get the Grail Cup and bring it back as fast as he could.

Rationally he knew no ancient cup could heal a bullet wound, but that didn’t matter. He had had enough strange experiences in his life to know that things that weren’t supposed to happen sometimes did. Maybe the healing capacity of the Grail Cup could never be proven, could never be repeated in a scientific setting, but he was willing to try. All it had to do was work once, that was all. Just once.

He took two more steps. He could hear his father calling out to him. Indy turned and saw Henry’s glazed eyes looking up at him. He listened; his father was muttering the phrase over and over.

“Only the penitent man will pass.

“Only the penitent man will pass.

“Only the penitent man will pass.”

Indy repeated it to himself and carefully climbed the remainder of the steps. The corpses were a few feet in front of him. The top steps were soaked with blood.

He took another step toward the arch and then one more. He could see down the passageway beyond the arch. He stopped, sensing that he was only a pace away from being beheaded.

“Penitent . . . Only the penitent man will pass,” he whispered. “Only the penitent man will pass. Only the penitent man will pass.”

He spoke it like a mantra, a prayer, and each time he said it, he felt himself becoming more and more aware of his surroundings, aware that what he was seeking was not an ordinary artifact, aware that his father’s quest was now his quest. He remembered his father’s words as they passed through the canyon. It was Galahad who succeeded where his father failed.

He noticed a huge cobweb across the archway just ahead of him. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Neither of the men had reached the cobweb. He knew that whatever it was
-—The Breath of God
—lay between him and the cobweb.

“Only the penitent man will pass. Penitent . . . penitent. A penitent man.”

He started to take a step forward but held his foot in midair, like an oversized bird at rest. Penitent. The penitent man is humble before God. The penitent man kneels before God. Kneel.

He set his foot down and fell to his knees. As he did so, he heard a loud whooshing overhead, and he instinctively tumbled forward. He lay there on his stomach a moment, then slowly rolled over. He peered up, and now he could see it above him—a razor-sharp triple pendulum, and it was still whirring just inches over him. The pendulum was attached to a pair of wooden wheels connected to the inside of the stone arch. It was probably activated by the slightest breath of air created by a person’s movement, and stopped after it struck its target.

The pendulum had been there for centuries and still operated perfectly, as if under a spell. This part, at least, he could understand. He knew it would take millennia before anything disintegrated in this desert. He had seen bodies thousands of years old that had been discovered under the desert sands. The skin was still on the bones and the clothing intact, with the threads appearing as if they had only recently been woven.

Indy saw a rope hanging from one of the wheels and worked his way over to the side of the arch. He grabbed the rope and hooked the looped end over one of the spokes in the nearest wheel. Instantly the mechanism ground to a halt, and the blades jammed.

He was through; he had made it. He stood in the archway, the cobweb tangling in his clothing. He signaled to Brody and Sallah that he was okay. He saw Elsa smiling at him. She looked pleased. The longer he survived, the closer she was to the Grail.

“True love,” he said softly, his voice riddled with irony.

His eyes met Donovan’s for an instant. He rubbed his neck, and turned away.

Brody gently patted Henry’s shoulder. “He did it, old boy Indy made it.”

Henry nodded his head, indicating that he understood, but Brody could see the effort it cost him for just this small movement. Then he murmured something under his breath.

Brody looked at Sallah, who still cradled Henry’s head. “What did he say?”

Sallah shook his head, worried. “He’s out of his mind with the pain and loss of blood.”

Henry muttered again, and this time Brody understood a few of the words. “In the Latin alphabet it starts . . .”

“What?” He leaned closer and listened.

“. . . with an
I.”

“In the Latin alphabet it starts with an
I,”
Brody repeated. “Okay. But what . . .” He shook his head, confused, and conceded that Sallah was right. Henry was delirious.

He looked up toward the passageway, wishing Indy luck. Then he noticed Donovan, followed by Elsa, climbing the steps. “Those wretched schemers. Perfectly abhorrent,” he muttered.

Henry suddenly rose up slightly and spoke in a raspy voice. “The Word of God . . . The Word of God . . .”

“No, Henry. Try not to talk,” Brody said.

A spasm of pain shot through Henry’s body, and Brody feared they were going to lose him.

“The name of God,” Henry croaked. He relaxed a bit as the pain eased. “Jehovah,” he muttered. “But in the Latin alphabet, Jehovah begins with an
I.”

His body was wracked by another jolt of pain. “Oh, dear,” he gasped, sucking in his breath.

Sallah placed a hand on his shoulder and glanced up at the passageway. “It’s okay, Henry.”

Indy lit a match, held it up to the Grail diary, and translated the phrases from Latin. “The second challenge. The Word of God. Only in the footsteps of God will he proceed.”

The match winked out.

Indy stood in the darkness and gazed ahead, wondering what the words meant. When he reached the challenge, he hoped he would recognize it in time to save his life. At least with the first one, with the pendulum, he had had the advantage of two failed attempts ahead of him. With this one he was truly in the dark.

“Only in the footsteps of God will he proceed,” he said, memorizing the words. “The Word of God—the Word of God.” What could it mean?

He lit another match and read the rest of the section. “Proceed in the footsteps of the word. In the name of God. Jehovah.”

He heard a noise and looked back to see Donovan and Elsa. They stood just beyond the entrance to the passageway waiting for him to make his next move.

Parasites, Indy thought.

“Don’t stop now, Dr. Jones,” Donovan said, derisively. “You’ve just begun your journey.”

Indy reminded himself that the only reason he was here was for his father. It had nothing to do with Donovan. Or with Elsa.

He turned and continued along the passageway until he came to a checkerboard of cobblestones. “Cobbles.” He remembered the word from the diary; it was on the page with the diagrams. Pendulum. Cobbles. And something about a bridge.

He lit another match and turned the page of the diary. Now he realized the checkerboard diagram was the cobblestone. He held the match up to get a better look at the pattern of stones. As in the diagram, each one was marked with a letter. “The Word of God. Proceed in the footsteps of the Word of God. Jehovah.”

He stepped tentatively on the
J.
Suddenly his foot plunged through a hole, and he almost lost his balance. He steadied himself, pulled his leg out. As he did, he felt something crawling on his ankle. He quickly shook his foot back, then brushed away a fistsized, hairy black spider. It scrambled down the passage, a plump, hideous thing, and a moment later, Elsa shrieked.

She did better with the rats under the library.

He looked back at the diagram and shook his head in disgust as he realized his mistake. Okay. Wake up. Pay attention. We’re not dealing with English. The Latin Jehovah begins with an
I.

He lit another match and made a quick search of the cobblestones. Then, saying the letters aloud, he jumped across them from stone to stone. As he landed on the
O,
his foot slipped partially onto the stone with the letter
P.
Instantly it dropped down. He wobbled, regained his balance, and stepped across the last two letters. He had made it.

He looked back and saw Elsa and Donovan approaching the cobblestones. He wasn’t going to give them any hints, but Elsa had already figured it out from what she had overheard him repeat from the Grail entries, and what she had seen him do on the cobbles.

She smiled at him and stepped ahead as if she were playing hopscotch.
“I-E-H-O-V-A.
Jehovah.”

Indy scraped cobwebs from his hat, turned, and walked on. Behind him he heard Donovan yelling for Elsa to go on, to keep Indy in sight, and that he was right behind her.