Part Two
Indy inspected his hat. It would be nice to have the gray one stay crisp and neat. He could iron his suit, but the hat was wool- it'd get that sheen to it... That glass shard sticking through the brim ruined it, anyway. He pulled out the shard and tossed it to the street with the rest of the glass from the restaurant's terrace doors and ruefully put the hat on. Chief Inspector Reinhold was shaking Henry's hand, concluding the statement-taking. The man Bruce had shot- the one assailant they'd managed to capture- had been taken to a hospital where he would be under house arrest until he was well enough to travel to the jail. The restaurant owner hadn't said much other than touting Sisho's explemplary six years of service and peaceful manner. He was quite shocked and not a little afraid of the man, now.
Dr. Elise Saviougn held onto Henry's arm as he made his way over to where Bruce and Indy were mumbling to each other. Bruce was reloading his gun after letting the constabulary inspect it. He put it back in his pocket. Bruce had carried a gun on him ever since his service in the Great War. He said he liked the feel of it on him.
"Have you decided what to do about the exhibit?" Henry asked.
"I'm going to get whoever's in charge now to sign off on a single royalty," Indy said. "I hate to take advantage of Delk's death, but we're getting out of here as soon as possible."
The party agreed silently. Henry watched his son- he could tell the man was thinking, and he knew WHAT he was thinking.
"They're going to try to stop us," he said. "Whatever they didn't find in the museum, they thought Delks had it, or knew where it was. And they're going to think we know it now."
"Or have it," Indy said.
"What, though?" Bruce asked.
"Something that should have been in the Zulu exhibit but wasn't," Elise said.
"Correct," said Henry. "But why would they think a particular item was in the exhibit when it was not?"
A none too subtle clearing of the throat turned everyone's attention to the Chief Inspector.
"You gents (and lady) are free to go."
"How long do we have to stick around?" Indy asked.
"Oh, don't bother," Reinhold said. "I'm quite certain you weren't involved with the natives in this ploy. Have a good flight." With that, the Chief Inspector walked away.
The group looked at each other. Indy had killed a man, Bruce had wounded another and they were being allowed to leave the country? This bothered them, certainly, but they all knew that "natives" in South Africa weren't considered citizens and, therefore, killing or maiming one didn't arouse any real suspicion from the prevailing white authorities. The Chief Inspector, at least, had no doubt that the gunman would tell all and Delks' attackers would be hanged- even Sisho, the exemplary host. The man Delks had known long enough to have a tired, running joke with. Why would he want Delks dead? ALL of them, for that matter...
Their mission, meanwhile, had not changed. They still had to get that avain exhibit back to New York, so they set off for the museum.
Delks had been right about the exhibits. The design was simple and so logical, they were all stunned they hadn't thought of it. He used real trees! The trees were in huge dioramas with the birds in them. Museum visitors could look at this African tree against a painting of an African landscape and imagine all of these African birds in their natural habitats. Each bird had been handled by an expert taxidermist and mounted in one of various poses among the branches, along the trunk and some on the ground. Some had their wings spread and were poised for takeoff, a couple had puffed up for a battle, others were preening. There were seven to ten birds in each display and each was numbered. A legend was mounted on the front corner of the exhibit, giving the bird's name and a brief description. None of them had ever seen anything like it and for a while, they simply looked at it in the back corner of the museum's storage area. Dr. Saviougn finally broke the silence with laughter.
"This is... genius," she said, still gaping. The modern museum anywhere else in the world was still using the time- honored tradition of stuffing the birds in either a wings- folded stance, making the bird stand up by posts and wires, or mounted on their backs with their wings pinned to the wooden display backing.
Bruce said "This'll make the museum a fortune..."
Indy smiled. Bruce was right of course. Delks had been right about the exhibit, too. It was huge. The dioramas were "L" shaped stage-like constructions mounted on lockable casters, so the exhibit could just be wheeled around and placed wherever they wanted it. An inverted "L" served as a cover for the display, so that it could be boxed and shipped intact.
"Mr. Dermlaff told us the exhibits weren'tready," Henry said. "These seem perfectly fit for travel."
"They are," said Cheif Security Officer Reginal Helmsley. The rail- thin, pith helmet and khaki- clad Englishman was their guide through the museum storage facilities. The museum itself had been closed. "Dermlaff was planning to dismantle them all and ship them in pieces."
"Why?" Elsie asked. "These look pretty sturdy."
"So he could get double royalties," Indy said.
"No, no," said Reginal. "They would actually take up less space if broken apart and the tree limbs bound up and the backdrops, themselves, can be broken into panels and stacked. But the Zulu exhibit was to go as well, and... well, let's have a look, shall we?"
Reginal motioned for the two white teenagers standing nearby to recover the exhibit, and said "Follow me."
The Zulu displays were equally huge; half as tall, but three times as wide. The displays held ranks of sable, wooden warriors clad in fur, feathers and weaponry... and it had been wrecked. The dummies had been vandalized, their finery ripped off and some of the short spears they were all holding had been scattered. Several of the dummies were missing feet or a piece of leg and were lying on the floor- fallen soldiers among their bretheren. Standing proudly on a dramatic outcropping of fake rock was their weaponless leader, wearing only a battered crown of feathers and animal hair. Odd, thought Indy, he's the only one still wearing his headdress. Reginal continued...
"Dermlaf wanted each warrior boxed individually and the accoutrements sorted and boxed together by type. Again, the empty displays could be broken down and stacked."
"He'd have been lucky to get these on two planes, broken down or not," said Bruce.
Indy hated to see a museum display so badly treated. "No indication what they were lookng for?"
"Well, in all of the displays, the headdresses and the weapons- spears in particular- had been tossed about, but they were all accounted for."
"Too bad," Elise said. "It's a great-looking display... or it was, at least."
Reginal tipped his helmet and bowed slightly. "If you'll forgive me, Doctor, you're quite a display yourself."
"Why, thank you, Chief Helmsley," she smirked. Henry clenched his jaw.
"Who do we talk to about the Avian exhibit?" he asked.
Helmsley signed off on the shipment as the museum lawyer was at the police station with Dermalf's next of kin and the museum wouldn't appoint another curator until after the war. The single royalty for the Avian exhibit alone was agreed on and Bruce was dispatched to get two trucks to haul it to the airport. Indy was staring out the small window in the museum's front door when a native man wearing a long, draping brown robe approached the constables outside. An armed police guard had been posted at the museum since the attack this morning.
"We're closed," the first constable said. The man asked him something in Zulu. "Closed..." the constable said again. The man walked away.
Some time later, Indy checked his pocketwatch. It was half past two in the afternoon and the first truck had just been loaded. They were making great time. With any luck, they could be in the air late tonight. Indy yawned. Well, maybe tomorrow morning. At any rate, he was ready to get out of this suit. Elise was engrossing herself in the eThekwini's own avian exhibit, which had yet to utilize the diorama. Henry was engrossing himself in Elise's company. Bruce was pulling the first truck away from the dock to make room for the next one. Indy thought this would be a good time for a shower.
When Indy stepped out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel, he realized that noise he'd heard had, in fact, not been a couple next door. His room looked like the Zulu display- ransacked. A quick look around showed that nothing had been stolen, but everything had been looked through. Even the pockets on his old leather jacket had been turned inside out. His haversack had been dumped out on the bed, spilling only a small notebook, some pens and a few maps of the area. He picked up the phone to call the desk and the receiver came away cordless. A shuffling noise behind him twisted Indy around in time to see a little robed man dash out of the open door. It was the same man who had tried to get into the museum before! Indy dropped the phone and ran out into the hall after him.
The man looked back quickly and, noting his pursuer, turned down the stairwell, nearly bowling over an old woman taking the steps one at a time. Indy was closing in on him, but the bouncing on the stairwell caused his towel to drop. The old woman gasped and covered her eyes. Indy turned around and grabbed his towel, trying to wrap it back around himself, but it was wet and wouldn't unfold. Hearing the man run through a door several floors below him, Indy gave up. He held the towel longways around his crotch and butt and hurried back to his room.
Having dressed quickly into his "trouble clothes", his brown fedora, his old jacket and weapons of choice, he made for the museum as quickly as he could. He was too late, though. Before he even got out of the hotel lobby, he heard gunshots. By the time he got to the street, a full- fledged firefight had erupted at the museum. Indy thought of his friends and his dad. Fear gripped him and he ran towards the melee.
While the constabulary in England was forbidden to carry weapons, the frontier/colony nature of South Africa was reason enough to discard this "homeland" practice and, therefore, each officer of the law was given a rifle or, in some cases, a revolver. Civilians, should they require a weapon, simply bought them from smugglers- which the port city of Durban was rife with. This gave them access to guns similar to the ones the police had as well as more powerful weapons. It was one such weapon - a long barrelled machine gun mounted in the back of a covered truck- that tore up the street in front of Indy as he reached the museum, causing him to dive into the alley separating the eThekwini Museum from the warehouse next door. Indy drew his revolver and inched toward the street, preparing to return fire. One of the transport trucks carrying the Avian exhibit passed by him. The machine gun that had fired on him was mounted in the back of it. Indy caught a glimpse of the man at the gun grappling with Bruce as Elise was restrained by another. She saw him and yelled "Indyyyyyyyy!"
Indy stepped from the alley, not believing that his friends were being captured when the deisel growl of the other truck swung his head around in time to see it barreling down on him. Indy stepped back into the alley and fired at the driver as the cab passed by. The glass in the door shattered, but the truck didn't stop. As the canvas covered back end zoomed past, Indy caught a glimpse of his father being held at riflepoint. Henry saw him and yelled "Junior!" The rifleman turned, saw Indy and fired at him, tearing a hunk out of the corner of the warehouse next door. Indy withdrew further into the alley, waited just a second, then looked back out in time to see the truck disappear around a corner.
Indy looked around for a chase vehicle, but saw none. At the front of the musem, several constables were dead or seriously wounded.The less severely wounded ones were tending to them. Sirens were closing in. He had only breifly studied a map of the city, but Indy knew that , if one was travelling away from the docks, one had to travel through the congested downtown area to get anywhere else. He should be able to catch them there. He holstered his gun and ran down the alley towards downtown Durban.
Henry Jones Sr. wasn't necessarily surprised to see his son swing into the back of the truck and kick in the face of the guy who'd been holding a rifle on him. He was, instead, quite proud of his son and mentally patted himself on the back for being smart enough to recognize the value of resourcefulness he'd instilled, no- passed on to Henry Jr.
"Dad? Are you alright?"
"I am, Junior. Nice job. Look out."
Indy ducked at the warning and just missed being punched in the face. He shouldered a right into the thin man's stomach and broke his nose with a left. Just to keep from being surprised again, he threw the man into the street among the ox carts, goat herds and pedestrians. Henry continued to sit on the truck bed and looked quizically at his son. "You know, they didn't even take anything from the Zulu exhibit."
Indy was trying to peek around the side of the truck to see if the driver could see him. "They looked through that already."
"But surely they don't want these birds... or us."
"Who cares what they want? Elise and Bruce are in the other truck. Now, I'll take out the driver of this one and then you follow the other one while I get Elise and Bruce out of there."
"Why don't we just find out what they want before they kill more people?"
"They might kill Elise and Bruce!"
"They might kill you, Junior! If they wanted to kill us, they would have done it at the museum. Why would they capture us?"
"To make us tell them where their prize is. And we don't know where it is, so I'm going to save Elise and Bruce! And you're going to help me, come on."
Henry scowled. "And what then? They'll keep killing people until this "prize" of theirs turns up."
It was Indy's turn to scowl. He firmly believed that all of his father's research into chivalry was affecting his judgement, though he did see the plan here. "You're talking about helping them find it?"
"Who better?"
Indy opened his mouth to argue, but the idea that his father had almost paid him a compliment caused his voice to catch in his throat.
"I mean, if we can find the Holy Grail, certainly we can find some tribal artifact."
Indy looked at his feet. He had paid their teamwork a compliment. He took a deep breath. It was certainly a less violent plan, but they didn't know where they were going, much less if their captors would agree to this plan. He looked sideways at his father. Henry stared evenly at Indy.
"The art of negotiation, my boy. Just let me handle it when we get there." He stretched his legs out, indicating that his mind was made up.
Indy had been all over the world. He'd fought Germans in both World Wars, cult leaders, pirates, treasure hunters and all manner of thugs in the meantime, but he had never bested his father in a battle of reason and he knew that he would not break his streak now. Grudgingly, scowling despite his agreement, Indy sat down in the back of the transport truck as it carried them out of Durban and into the parched African countryside.
