Chapters 9-10 of Indiana Jones and the Golden Spider

Posted by Goodsport from adsl-216-102-199-185.dsl.snfc21.pacbell.net on June 06, 2000 at 07:44:55:

Chapter 9

Faizabad, Afghanistan - 1956

    Things were getting dangerous.

    Indy was in a cavernous room - a temple? - dark yet illuminated by the strange presence of a cloaked figure who seemed all too familiar. Once again, Indy couldn't move. All he could do was wait, panic, be frightened. He was tied to a large metal circle, his hands securely bound.

    Ominous noises - chanting?

    The cloaked figure revealed his face. Rene Belloq? No - this face was younger - Louis?

    More chanting; like a chorus of the damned.

    Standing next to the cloaked figure was an over-sized, bald, large man - there was a look of evil in his eyes; they were hollow, like the stare of death.

    The cloaked figure started to laugh. A strange glow surrounded him as he pointed the staff towards Indy.

    There was a terrible surge of power. Like a million rays of lightning crashing down on him, attacking Indy all at once. His body writhed in agony as the lightning seemed to wrap around him, twisting and hitting every nerve.

    Indy woke up, sweating, in the room of his hotel. Another nightmare. Indy had not been sleeping easily the past few days. And Belloq had been a prominent feature in Indy's nightmares. The images were becoming clearer each night Indy had these bad dreams; the dark room he was in more visible, Belloq's face changed more and more to a younger, slightly different version, other people appeared - most noticeably the large, menacing figure next to Belloq.

    The sun was shining through the window in Indy's room. He got out of bed, rubbing his eyes. As he got dressed, Indy thought about his plan of action for the day. It was obvious to him that he would have to go back to Mustafa Sharilla.

    An hour or two later, after having had a decent breakfast and plotting his next move, Indy made his way down the many streets of Faizabad, towards Mustafa's shop. It was early, but already many people were milling about, taking care of daily business.

    After a few more minutes, Indy could once again see Mustafa's shop. It seemed as if Mustafa had never moved; he was still standing outside his shop, arms folded, still grubby, still proclaiming his latest finds. "The American returns" sneered Mustafa, as Indy approached him.

    "I said I would"

    "Yes..." said Mustafa. This time, Mustafa could not only see Indy's whip, but on the other side of his belt was a gun holster. Mustafa tensed. "I see you are armed to fight," he said. "I warn you not to try anything".

    Indy remembered the ten or so people that had raced to Mustafa's aid when Indy had hold of the headpiece. "I don't want to see them again. Not my kind of people" said Indy, casually glancing around to see if any of the henchmen were nearby.

    "If you go away, you never will see them again"

    "I didn't think you made promises," said Indy.

    "I don't"

    Things weren't moving forwards at all. Indy was having just as little luck today as he was yesterday. The longer Mustafa retained the headpiece, the bigger the risk Louis Belloq could track it down. And if Louis was anything like his father, thought Indy, he would find some way to fool Mustafa into parting with the headpiece.

    Indy decided to try intimidation. "I could easily send a telegram to Corinth. Let them know just where the headpiece is - ask them if it was lawfully taken".

    However, Mustafa just laughed at Indy. "You make your petty telegram," he said. "And by the time the Greek authorities have come out here - if they ever do - I will have had the headpiece well hidden, a thousand miles from here. Nothing will link me to it"

    This was getting worse, thought Indy. He cast away any ideas of scare stories. If Indy told Mustafa about Tet Rhan, about the power of invincibility and the threat Louis Belloq posed, he knew that Mustafa would laugh at him. Mustafa was not the kind of person who feared the occult, the mysterious. The only thing that scared Mustafa Sharilla would be to have a gun pointed at him and no henchmen to save him. "What do you want for the headpiece?" sighed Indy.

    "Three hundred thousand dollars"

    "What?! Nobody can afford that!"

    "Then make your nearest offer" grinned Mustafa.

    Indy dug in his pocket, flicking a penny towards Mustafa. "Keep it - that's all you're getting from me" said Indy. Mustafa looked annoyed.

    "Mr. American," said Mustafa, "I do not give much at all away for free. But I will offer you one piece of advice...call it a warning. I am not the only person in Faizabad who wishes to see the back of you"

    "Oh?" asked Indy.

    "But I cannot say who else, of course"

    "Of course"

    Mustafa waited. Indy sighed, digging further into his pockets and handing Mustafa a bundle of notes. Grinning, Mustafa said "Now I can say who. A man by the name of Louis Belloq. And now, Mr. American, I bid you farewell. Do not trouble me again"

    "Maybe," said Indy, turning to leave.

    "If you do..." Mustafa shouted after him, "You won't be back for long!" Mustafa yelled several obscenities after Indy until he was out of earshot. When Indy had disappeared, Mustafa looked around, then quickly bent to the floor, picking up Indy's penny. He blew the dust off it, slipped it into his pocket and made his way back inside the shop.

* * * * *

A few hours later

    Mustafa was getting fed up of this. If it was not the American bothering him, it was the Frenchman Belloq and his silent, threatening sidekick. At the moment, it was the Frenchman.

    Louis was standing outside Mustafa's shop, talking with Mustafa and trying to win him over. Louis wanted to make sure that Henry Jones, Jnr. would have no allies, no help, in Faizabad. "Well, Mustafa, I have a proposal"

    "Yes?" asked Mustafa, curious.

    "I tried to explain it to you yesterday, and now I have the chance to reiterate my idea. There is nothing to be achieved by us fighting each other; I suggest we work together against Jones"

    Mustafa was unsure. "For what gain?"

    "We both win," grinned Louis.

    "How?"

    "I will tell you how," said Louis. "First, you must accept that I would very much like to possess the headpiece that you currently own. Second, Jones wants the headpiece, but he is a crook, a murderer. A third-rate one at that. Never trust a crook"

    Mustafa nodded slowly.

    Continuing, Louis said, "You want to sell the headpiece for three hundred thousand dollars. Well, I know a man who is an expert with Rhan". Louis paused. He continued lying, "He will pay more than that! I am sure! However, he needs to see the headpiece"

    "Bring him here" snapped Mustafa.

    "Alas, he is old and cannot travel. However, you and me could go to him, whereupon he would pay you. We charge him more than you are asking, I keep the profit and you are rich beyond many man's possible dreams"Mustafa contemplated this. "And Jones will longer be of concern to you"

    Mustafa paused. He didn't trust Louis completely, but wanted the money. In his mind, he decided to go with Louis, but take five of his henchmen as backup. If Louis was lying, he would let his henchmen show what the Sharilla family did to liars. "When do we leave?" asked Mustafa.

    "Excellent!" smiled Louis. If he could just buy a couple of more days in Faizabad, Louis could find a way to steal the headpiece, find a time when Mustafa was alone. After all, Louis didn't have any interested buyers of the headpiece, except himself. And Louis certainly didn't have three hundred thousand dollars. "I need a few days to organise transport"

    "Very well," nodded Mustafa. "In three days" he said, ready to go back into his shop.

    However, Louis tapped him on the shoulder. "Yes?"

    "One favour you can do for me"

    "What is it?" asked Mustafa.

    "Send one of your...men...to come and get me immediately should the American return. This is where I am staying..." said Louis, handing Mustafa a card with his hotel's name on it. "As soon as he returns" repeated Louis.

    "What if he doesn't come back?"

    "Not to worry," said Louis, remaining effortlessly calm. "Jones will be back...albeit temporarily". Kas nodded. Secretly, Louis was getting bored of the cat-and-mouse game of trying to find Henry Jones, Jnr. He wanted Jones dead, and soon. With any luck, the next time Jones came to try and get the headpiece, it would be the last time. Louis would be lying in wait for him.

* * * * *

    It was late.

    Dark outside. Indy couldn't sleep. It was too hot and too stuffy in Indy's room - his mind kept ticking over with thoughts of his next move. Here he was, alone in Faizabad. His allies - Anthony Brody, Dr. Jerome - they were back in America. Indy, by contrast, was in what many would have called the middle of nowhere, desperately trying to get hold of the headpiece of Rhan. Indy had to get the headpiece; Louis was too big a threat.

    But what to do after he had the headpiece? Indy was taking things step by step. There was no methodical planning to his quest; if he got hold of the headpiece, he would take things from there. Perhaps Indy could take the headpiece to Dr. Jerome and figure out what to do. Or he could take it back home and hide or destroy it. Indy sighed. No matter what plan of action he considered, Louis Belloq was there in the background.

    The nightmares that Indy had been having were testament to his worries. Belloq wanted Indy dead, and Indy wasn't about to march up to Belloq and ask why. If Indy got the headpiece, what about Belloq? Confused and tired, Indy got out of bed. He walked over to a table in his room and picked up a glass of water. Sipping it, he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

    He hadn't shaved in days, he was tired and needed some rest. But that wasn't all Indy saw in the mirror. From his position, he could see the door of the hotel room. The handle on it turned, and the door was slowly opening! Indy turned slowly, not making a sound.

    In the doorway, he could see a thick hand pushing the door open. It creaked slightly. Indy felt for his gun - but it was lying on the bed. Too far out of reach. The only thing nearby was Indy's whip, which was on the table next to him.

    The stranger was almost inside - his whole arm was inside the room now. It was a thick arm that looked like it could break anything in two. Indy didn't want that to be him, and grabbed his whip.

    Quickly, he cracked it backwards than whipped at the stranger's arm. The stranger grunted as the whip wrapped around his arm; cutting him. Indy pulled the whip, and soon regretted it. By pulling the whip, Indy had brought the stranger crashing into the room. The stranger was a tall, silent man, large and menacing. Indy didn't know it at the time, but this was Kas, Louis Belloq's loyal thug. He reminded Indy of the over-sized bald man in his nightmare.

    Kas unravelled the whip, making it drop to the floor. Indy, in shock, recoiled the whip. Kas stormed towards Indy, who leapt out of his path at the last minute, tumbling across the floor. Kas swivelled quickly. He made a leap for Indy, tackling him and sending both men crashing to the floor.

    Before he knew what was happening, Indy was being choked by Kas, who had two strong hands wrapped around Indy's neck. Indy's arms flailed pathetically as he tried to fight back. Indy felt for various items; a book, a shoe - nothing of substance to attack with. Then, just as Indy's face reddened and Kas' grasp tightened, Indy felt a glass container - shaving lotion!

    The cap was already loose as Indy flicked it off. With a final burst of energy, he threw the container at Kas' face. Its contents splashed all over Kas' face, striking him in both eyes. Instantly, Kas recoiled in agony, covering his eyes. Indy gasped for the fresh air he was now getting, and staggered to his feet. He wasn't going to wait around for the thug to recover, and grabbing the gun of his bed and his fedora and jacket, Indy raced out of the hotel.

    There was no time at all left to spare. If Indy was going to get the headpiece, he would have to get it now and get out of Faizabad as fast as he could. Indy had a violent thug and Louis Belloq on his trail; they knew whereabouts in Faizabad he was. It was a good bet that Mustafa Sharilla wouldn't look too fondly on Indy stealing the headpiece either.

    This was going to be risky.

    It was now or never.

*************************

Chapter 10

Faizabad, Afghanistan - 1956

    "Mr. Jones?"

    Indy didn't respond as he ran through the hotel lobby, headed for the front door. The porter shouted after him again. "Mr. Jones, where are you going?"

    "Checking out!" shouted Indy.

    Indy raced out of his hotel into the night. Some house lights made it easier for Indy to see where he was going. He didn't have much time. The thug who had tried to kill Indy in his hotel room would soon recover and be racing after him. Indy had to get out of Faizabad. It didn't matter how, he just had to escape.

    But there was one thing he needed to do first. One place he had to go. Indy ran down the streets, headed towards Mustafa Sharilla's shop. Thinking to himself, Indy reasoned that the place had to be closed at this time of night. However, a man like Mustafa - who surrounded himself with guards in daylight - would no doubt make sure his shop was as well guarded in darkness. Indy didn't have much time to waste, and if he wanted the headpiece, he had to get it now.

    Racing down the streets, Indy skidded to a halt as he approached Mustafa's shop. The lights were out, the doors shut. Windows barred and locked. The place looked deserted - just the way Indy wanted it. Feeling for his gun, Indy took it out of his holster. One bullet left. Bad news again.

    Indy held onto the gun, pacing slowly towards Mustafa's shop. It was deadly quiet in this part of Faizabad. Indy hoped it stayed that way. Indy had to be careful. Some people would have charged straight in to the shop. Not Indy. He wasn't taking his chances. Mustafa, his henchmen or even Louis Belloq could be hiding behind the shop's door, just waiting for Indy's entrance. After all, if they knew which hotel he was staying at, it was a safe bet that Indy had been spied on during his time in Faizabad.

    Indy leaned against the shop door, listening for any sounds inside. Nothing. Indy tried the door. Locked, naturally. Looking around the marketplace, Indy still saw nothing, and stepped back a few feet. Praying that the noise would be short and swift, Indy fired a bullet at the door's lock. It split open, bits of metal flying in all directions. The door came slowly ajar.

    Indy paused, waiting for a response from inside. There wasn't one, so he walked back to the door, pulling it open. Indy walked into the shop - it was in complete darkness. He fumbled around, trying to find his bearings. His hands ran over shelves, walls and junk - then a human hand. Indy froze.

    Before he could move, Indy felt a terrible pain in his chest; someone had hit him. As he fell to the floor, a match was lit and a lantern turned on. Indy opened his eyes to see one of Mustafa's henchmen towering above him, carrying three sharp and deadly knife.

    "I guess you're not open?" asked Indy. The henchman threw a knife down at Indy, who rolled out of the way with only a second to spare. "Guess not" said Indy, jumping to his feet. The henchmen threw his second knife, Indy saw it just in time, ducking. The knife jammed right into Indy's fedora, pinning it to the wall.

    Noticeably angered, the henchman charged towards Indy with the last knife. Indy quickly grabbed his fedora and the knife that was stuck in it, and stepped back. There was a moment's pause as both Indy and the henchman watched each other, both waiting for the other to lunge forward with a knife attack.

    Indy wasn't about to.

    The henchman was. He dived forwards, knife aimed at Indy's chest. Indy backed up quickly, crashing into a table. He was against the wall, the henchman's knife only inches away. Indy grabbed a hold of the henchman's wrist, trying to shake the knife free. He couldn't; the henchman was too strong.

    With his free hand and the knife in it, Indy swiped at the henchman's arm again. This time, it cut a deep wound. The henchman dropped the knife as he staggered backwards. It was only a matter of seconds before he passed out from the sight of his own blood. Indy grinned. That wasn't so hard. With no time to lose, he raced through to Mustafa's 'secret' room. But things were different. Rather than an array of valuable items, all Indy saw was trunk after trunk. They were all locked.

    Indy flicked the lock on one trunk with his knife - inside was a pile of gold coins and priceless items; Mustafa obviously packed his finds away for safe-keeping at night. "Not safe enough," thought Indy, as he started opening each trunk, pouring the contents out onto the floor.

    Eventually, in the fifth trunk, the item Indy was looking for spilt out. Taking hold of it, clasping it tightly, Indy examined it. A golden round disc, encrusted with strange lettering and exotic jewels. Indy let out a momentary sigh of relief - he had the Jewel of Rhan! But if he wasn't quick, he wouldn't have it for very long. Indy knew his attacker from the hotel was working for Louis or Mustafa, and would check the shop soon, if not straight away. Paying heed to his own thoughts, Indy ran out of the shop, back onto the dark streets of Faizabad.

    Everything was quiet.

    For about ten seconds. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a mass of about ten people came charging downthe street. At the front, Mustafa - Indy recognised some of the other people as his henchmen. But that wasn't all. In the group, Indy also saw his attacker from the hotel, and worst of all, as vivid as in Indy's nightmares, he saw a man in a light suit, he looked like Rene Belloq, only younger.

    Louis Belloq.

    Indy turned and ran. "He's ours!" Indy could hear someone shout. He didn't wait to find out who, and ran as fast as he could into the darkness of the night.

    Indy ran so hard, he didn't notice racing into the nearby train yard. His eyes darted around, trying to find somewhere to hide - or better still, a train out of Faizabad. Indy didn't care where it was headed, so long as it was out of this town.

    Indy clambered up to the top of a discarded carriage, crouching down. He could hear voices getting nearer and nearer. Louis and Mustafa. Indy watched from the roof as Mustafa came into view, carrying a thick knife. Indy ducked his head.

    That was when he felt a pain across his back. Something had hit him. Indy turned to see yet another of Mustafa's endless supply of henchmen on the roof of the same carriage. He had stamped his foot down on Indy's back.

    Indy got to his feet as quickly as possible and lifted his fists, ready to fight. However, the henchman pulled his own fist back, smacking Indy right in the face. Indy's legs wobbled as he fell off the carriage roof, onto the floor below.

    "Aha!" shouted Mustafa, turning round to see Indy picking himself off his feet. "Now I have you," grinned Mustafa. "You will return the headpiece now," he grunted, moving towards Indy with the knife.

    Meanwhile, Louis Belloq raced around the train yard with Kas, trying to find Henry Jones, Jnr. Louis was about to shout out for Mustafa when he saw something interesting. In the distance, he could make out Henry Jones - and even better, he was standing still. "Kas," whispered Louis, "There he is!". Kas grinned as he watched Louis take out a revolver, make sure it was
    loaded, then aim it at Indy. "Like a sitting duck. All too easy. A shame, really," grinned Louis, ready to pull the trigger.

    "The headpiece!" shouted Mustafa, getting impatient and ready to kill.

    "Look, Mustafa..." said Indy. A glint of metal caught his eye, and Indy turned on his feet quickly. He saw Louis Belloq and his thug staring right at him; gun trained on Indy's chest. Not knowing what to do, Indy dropped to the floor as he heard Belloq's gun fire.

    Indy ducked just in time, and Louis watched his bullet hit Mustafa in the heart. Mustafa slumped to the floor, instantly dead. Indy picked himself up. "Thanks Belloq," he shouted. Louis and Kas instantly ran towards Indy; Louis firing gun shots and Kas ready for face-to-face combat.

    There was a whistle in the background - Indy turned to see smoke in the air - a train was leaving! Indy had to get on it. It was a few metres away, but with increasing speed, Indy ran to the side of the train, trying to catch up with it. It was too late, the train was moving further and further away. Indy's last hope was fading; the last carriage was now a few inches from him.

    Indy saw a ladder attached to the last carriage. Straight away, he grabbed his whip, cracked it back and aimed for the ladder - it wrapped around a rung of the ladder. Indy held on tightly to his whip as the speed of the train sent him crashing to the floor. As the train moved along, Indy slowly but surely moved further up his whip, eventually pulling himself onto the train. Indy jumped up to the ladder on the side of the train - he wobbled slightly as the train picked up speed.

    Clambering into the safety of a cargo carriage, Indy dumped himself down, breathing heavily. Louis Belloq could only stand and watch as the train carrying both the headpiece and Henry Jones, Jnr. rocketed out of Faizabad, into the night.

*************************

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