Chapter 1 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 07:56:07:

Chapter 1 - In Search Of…

BELO HORIZONTE, BRAZIL - 1939

    The machete still cut through the foliage, but not as well as it did earlier that day. The deeper they traversed the jungle, the thicker the foliage got - as did the humidity.

    "Let's rest here!" Indiana Jones suggested, sheathing his machete. He lifted his fedora and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He sipped some water from his canteen, and then offered it to his guide.

    "Obrigado, Doctor Jones!" thanked Carlos Alberto, as the Brazilian accepted Indiana's gift and drank a bit from the canteen.

    The two students from Jones' archeology class at Barnett College the previous semester brought up the rear; they finally caught up with Jones and Alberto. Carlos handed the canteen to Micah Johnson, who proceeded to drink a bit from the canteen before handing it over to Indiana James Lambert.

    "Hey, you hosers!" Indiana James exclaimed, handing the canteen back to his teacher, "I didn't come down all the way from Alberta just to be drenched in sweat in some God-forsaken foreign country! Are we close?"

    Micah turned to his classmate and shushed him. "Show some respect, will ya?"

    Ignoring them both, Indiana Jones took out an envelope from his pack. It had obviously been sent to Jones via postal service, with stamp and addresses clearly visible - although the return address on the envelope was the same as the receiver's.

    "Who's it from?" asked Indiana James.

    "I'm not absolutely certain," Jones answered, "but I think that I have a pretty good idea."

    Indiana James sighed in frustration. "Do you mind telling us who?"

    Indiana Jones hesitated before answering. "A colleague who got lost in these parts a little while ago."

    It was clear that the archeologist had opened the envelope earlier. He took out three folded pieces of paper form the envelope, unfolded them and lifted one of them into what little sun broke through the high trees. It made no more sense to him now than it did when he first received it.

    "Senhor?" Carlos asked, glancing at the paper, "I don't get it!" Both Micah and Indiana James peered at the paper from behind Carlos.

    "Neither do I… it just looks like some kind of 'E' mail," answered Dr. Jones, pointing to the huge letter 'E' scrawled on the paper. The second piece of paper, they discovered, was a map of the jungle they were in… with a crude little sketch of a spider on it.

    The sudden sound broke through the leaves and ended with a 'thump'. A second later, Carlos Alberto was lying on the ground with a dart lodged in the back of his neck.

    The remaining three swiveled their necks around, trying in vain to see another sign of life through the thick foliage. Micah swiftly removed Carlos' backpack. Indiana Jones hastily folded his 'E' mail into his pocket and commanded his two students to follow him.

    As they sprinted from their position, the darts started flying at them from out of nowhere.

* * * * *

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA - 1939

    Plopping down onto his bed was a comfort he hadn't enjoyed since he took on his last case. Without even loosening his tie, Goodsport just lay on his bed. After cracking the case wide open, he decided that he deserved a little peace and quiet - even if it meant that crime boss Nobody now put a price on his head. Goodsport would worry about that later, he decided while shutting his eyes. Comfortable in the knowledge that his twin Colt .45 automatic pistols were within arm's reach, each holstered in a chest-holster which were lying on the nearby desk, the silence was drawing him to sleep.

    It didn't last long.

    "Darn it!" Goodsport exclaimed, almost jumping off the bed when his phone rang. Dragging himself to the black rotary phone, he lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

    "Goodsport… hi!" answered the familiar female voice, "… uh, how ya doin'?"

    "Tired," answered Goodsport, somewhat annoyed, "Gladys, I told you not to call me today. I just finished a case, so I'm not coming back into the office until tomorrow."

    "What makes you think I'm asking ya to come in now?" retorted Gladys.

    Goodsport rolled his eyes, a grin escaping from the corner of his mouth. "I know you too well, doll."

    A slight chuckle came through the receiver. "Aww geez… in for a penny!" Gladys conceded, "Actually, a lady came in… insisted on seeing you right away. I told her you were unavailable, but she wouldn't listen."

    "Is she there now?"

    "Yeah. What do I tell her?"

    Goodsport thought for a second. It could be another case. God only knew he could use the money to keep his office running. And with the murder of his partner a month earlier, Goodsport needed to keep busy to keep his mind off of that as well.

    "Okay, Gladys. Tell her to hold on. I'll be right there. And Gladys?"

    "Yes?"

    "Is she a 'looker'?"

    "You pig!" Gladys joked, knowing when Goodsport was just kidding around, "Yeah, I guess I'd say she's a 'knockout' … if I was a guy."

    Goodsport smiled. "All right, I'm on my way then!" He hung up the phone and slipped on both chest-holsters. Goodsport then donned both his dark-gray wool overcoat and his gray narrow-brimmed fedora and stepped out the door. Locking the door behind him, he stepped into his 1936 Ford Sedan and drove off to the other side of the city.

* * * * *

    The darts were flying almost as fast as their hearts were beating. Indiana Jones, Micah and Indiana James ran through the dense jungle as fast as they could, somehow avoiding the darts and the trees… so far.

    The ground underneath their feet suddenly gave way, causing them to tumble down a hard, dark slope for what seemed an eternity. Jones was the first to finally land on hard, solid ground. Micah then landed on top of him, followed by Indiana James. As the three untangled themselves from each other, they finally were aware that they were in a dark, damp underground tunnel.

    Micah was the first to notice the torches on each side of the tunnel, lined up one after another. He pointed out to his colleagues that the torches were all lit, illuminating the tunnel to bare visibility. All three men wondered who lit the torches.

    "Follow me - and watch where you step," warned Dr. Jones to his two colleagues, lifting the revolver out of his holster. He led the way down the tunnel for several minutes before finally detecting the end of the tunnel ahead.

    "I can't see a thing!" Indiana James announced, referring to the large, dark cavernous room the tunnel led into.

    Indiana Jones turned to Indiana James, asking to be handed the nearest torch. His student complied, and Jones stepped cautiously into the darkness. From what little light emanated from the torch in his hand, the archeologist was able to make his way to the center of the room, where there was what apparently looked to be a giant torch cauldron taking up the middle of the room. Discovering that the inside of the cauldron was appropriately flammable, Jones lowered his torch into the cauldron. The giant torch cauldron lit up so quickly that Jones barely had time to jump backwards to avoid getting scorched.

    The sudden light from the now-lit torch cauldron blinded the three companion's eyes for several seconds - until their eyes were able to adjust. The light from the cauldron more than adequately filled the entire room. Their eyes were finally able to scan the vast room around them. What they saw confirmed what they were looking for.

    "I think we found the web site," Indiana Jones exclaimed, glancing at the giant cobwebs almost completely covering the walls.

    Indiana James stepped closer to the cobwebs. "Man, these things are huge! How big were the spiders that made these?"

    Micah glanced across the room and pointed. "Doctor Jones… there it is!"

    Indiana Jones' eyes followed Micah's finger across to the gold altar table in the little corridor dug into the wall on the other side of the web site. They made their way there, discovering that sunlight flooded through tiny holes above them and flooded the little corridor between them and the gold altar table. Jones pulled out the third piece of paper from his envelope and glanced at it carefully. Micah and Indiana James spied the paper over Jones' shoulder, only to see a sketch of both the cavernous web site they were in and the little corridor and altar table that lay ahead of them, along with some unintelligible scribbling - unintelligible to the two archeology students, at least.

    "C'mon, what're we waiting for?" muttered Indiana James, stepping forward to enter the little corridor. Indiana Jones' arm shot out in his way.

    Jones pushed Indiana James to the nearby wall. "Stay out of the light."

    Micah seemed puzzled. "How do you know, sir?"

    Dr. Jones turned to Micah with a lop-sided grin, unhitching his coiled whip. "Trust me."

    He stuck the whip just enough into the light before the entire room began trembling. Bracing themselves against the cobwebbed walls, the three were able to avoid the small chunks of falling debris from the ceiling. When the trembling finally stopped, they noticed that the entire floor of the little corridor between them and the gold altar table collapsed, replaced by a steep, deep pit.

    Indiana James shook his head. "Oh great! Now how are we supposed to get to the table???"

    Uncoiling his whip, Jones turned to both Micah and Indiana James. "Stay here. I'll get there." Glancing at the wooden spikes above the corridor, Indiana Jones deftly whipped one of the spikes and swung himself over to the golden altar table with relative ease. He reeled in his whip and coiled it up, attaching it back into his whip-holster. He then took out the third piece of paper again and examined the gold altar table in front of him, ready to claim his prize.

    Jones gasped. It wasn't there.

* * * * *

    Goodsport parked his Ford near the sidewalk at the San Francisco waterfront. He stepped out, locked the door of his car and started walking the length of the block to his office. He stopped halfway to his destination to admire the relatively new Golden Gate Bridge out in the bay, its 'International Orange' color blending in with the horizon of the evening sky.

    Only up two years and it's already improved the view, Goodsport thought to himself, too bad it's the only good thing to look at in this crummy neighborhood.

    Goodsport started walking again, continuing his thoughts. Good thing the Navy didn't have its way, he recalled what his contacts in the U.S. Navy had told him, or the Bridge would have been painted black with yellow stripes!

    Goodsport finally reached the building. He entered it, walked up the flight of stairs and reached the door with the tinted-white window, complete with 'GOODSPORT - PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR' scrawled across the window in black lettering. Goodsport still shuddered when he saw that - a month had already passed, yet he still wasn't used to not seeing his late partner's name alongside his own on the window.

    "Goodsport, glad to see ya made it!" Gladys greeted him from behind her desk in the lobby, as Goodsport walked in. "Here's your mail," she continued, handing Goodsport his mail, "and here are your calls from earlier today."

    The private eye set the mail and the phone-messages down on his secretary's desk. Goodsport then turned to Gladys. "So, where is she?"

    Gladys pointed toward the main office. Goodsport quietly opened the door slightly and peeked through the crack.

    Boy, Gladys wasn't kidding! Goodsport gasped silently, glancing at the beautiful, richly adorned lady surveying the view of the bay and the waterfront from the office's large window. She most definitely is a 'knockout'!

    Quietly closing the door, Goodsport turned to his secretary again. "Hold my calls. And Gladys…"

    Gladys put up her hand, smiling, "Don't worry, boss. I already made a pot of coffee. I brought it in the office."

    A grin appeared on Goodsport's face. "Thanks, sweetheart," he answered, winking. "I owe you one!"

    Goodsport stepped into the main office, closing the door behind him. As the visitor turned around, Goodsport took off his overcoat and fedora and hung them both on the coat-stand near the door.

    The richly adorned visitor stepped closer to Goodsport, her raven-black hair and olive skin accentuating her beautiful features - which was definitely not lost on Goodsport.

    "Ciao, signore," she greeted, "the view from your window is breathtaking. With all the hills in the city… it reminds me of Roma!"

    "You're from Rome?" asked the P.I. quizzically, "You're a long way from home!" Goodsport then waved his hand to the chair in front of his desk. "Please sit down. Would you like some coffee?"

    "Si, grazie!" she nodded, sitting in the plush chair. Goodsport poured both himself and his visitor a cup of coffee. He handed her the cup and sat down behind the desk.

    After a sip of his coffee, he set his cup down on the desk. Goodsport couldn't help but notice that the lady looked somewhat nervous. The silence lasted several seconds.

    Goodsport finally broke the silence. "Something tells me that you didn't come here to compare our two fair cities."

    The lady nodded, pulling out a black-and-white photograph from her purse. "You are right. I want you to recover something that was stolen from me."

    She then handed Goodsport the photograph. He glanced at the picture for a second. "This looks like a statue of a bug."

    "It is actually called the 'Golden Spider'," she corrected him, "it was… uh… a gift from my family to the DeYoung Museum exhibit opening next week here in San Francisco."

    Goodsport glanced at her suspiciously. He noticed the pause in her last sentence. "Why come to me? Why not just ask the police to find it?"

    The beautiful visitor's face turned somber. "Back home, Mussolini and his Fascista police are absolutely corrupt. I am not sure how it is with your police."

    Goodsport nodded with a lop-sided grin, leaning back in his chair. "Corruption's everywhere, lady. But not all of them are corrupt… ya just gotta know who to know!"

    She reached over and placed the photograph back into her purse. Goodsport lifted his cup of coffee and started drinking.

    She continued. "I'm willing to offer fifteen-thousand dollars in American currency for its return."

    The beautiful Italian jumped out of her seat when Goodsport almost choked on his coffee. He quickly set down his cup. Fifteen-thousand dollars?!? This lady's loaded!!!

    "Pardon me!" assured Goodsport as he finally recovered. He then gasped as she set a block of hundred-dollar bills on his desk.

    "Five thousand now… ten thousand when you find the 'Golden Spider'," she informed Goodsport. He just gazed at the money on his desk. This stack alone could finally get me, Gladys and the office away from the waterfront and somewhere in the city more… respectable!

    She stood up and turned toward the door. "I will have to… uh… speak with papa. I will then contact you again. Arrivederci, Signori Goodsport."

    She stepped toward the door as Goodsport stood up. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

    The beautiful Italian turned to the private investigator, smiling sweetly. "My name is Megara. You may call me Meg. All my dear friends do." Goodsport opened the door for the lady, then closed it gently when she left. This statue must be really important for her to offer that kinda money!

    Goodsport discreetly stepped near his window and spied the sidewalk below. He caught Meg heading toward a Bentley limousine, the driver holding the back door open for her.

* * * *

    Indiana Jones searched the entire golden altar table. All he could find was a large indentation on it. His eyes scanned the third piece of paper in his hand, then scanned the indentation. Jones noticed that it was of the correct shape - it most definitely had held the Golden Spider. But all that was left in the indentation now was a carved letter 'E'.

    He examined the carved letter. It obviously was made fairly recently - it looked just like the letter 'E' sketched on the 'E' mail. His discovery of the similarity was tempered by the absence of the artifact. He cursed quietly to himself.

    "So?" Indiana James shouted from across the little corridor, "Did you find it?"

    Dr. Jones rubbed his eyes. It took a lot of convincing to get his two most promising young students in quite a while to accompany him on this simple archeological hunt… how was he going to break the news to them?

    "Hold on!" the professor called back, still glancing at the golden altar table, "I'll swing back in a minute!"

    Indiana Jones, Micah and Indiana James swiveled around quickly as they heard the 'clicks' from back at the entrance of the web site.

* * * * *

    The dark Studebaker stood parked in the distance. The two Germans sat silently inside - the driver read a newspaper while the passenger spied on their prey.

    "Fritz," the passenger tapped the driver on the arm, pointing to the lady heading toward the Bentley, "sie trettet aus dem Gebäude heraus."

    The driver set down his newspaper. "Lassen Sie uns warten, bis sie wegfahren," he replied, motioning to his partner to wait.

* * * * *

    Goodsport watched as Meg stepped into the limousine. The driver shut the door and stepped into the front of the limousine. Goodsport barely had time to grab a pad of paper and a pencil from off his desk and write down the license plate number before the Bentley drove off. The strangest part about the license plates were that they were Canadian… more precisely, from the province of Alberta!

    Sitting down in his chair, Goodsport pulled out an old address book. Strange, pondered Goodsport, an Italian beauty riding in a British limousine with Canadian license plates… and throwing around American money.

    He lifted the telephone's receiver and dialed. "Hello? May I speak with Michaelson? Tell him it's Goodsport!"

    The police detective came on the line. "Goodsport? What're ya calling me here for? You know the chief here don't exactly like ya!"

    "What he doesn't know won't hurt him," assured Michaelson's former pupil from their days at the police academy, "I need info on some license plates."

    Michaelson sighed. He looked around the police station, then whispered. "Okay, what's the number?"

    Goodsport glanced at his pad of paper. "THX1138. The plates are from Alberta."

    "Hold on a second," Michaelson interrupted, "we don't have records of Canadian plates here. But I know a Canadian Mountie up in Alberta who would know. His name's Brett Lambert. He's a good man. I'll give him a call!"

    "All right," answered Goodsport, "thanks for the help. Okay, bye." He hung up the phone.

    The P.I. searched further into his address book and considered calling DeYoung Museum's curator Short Round. The curator/adventurer certainly would know a thing or two about this 'Golden Spider', Goodsport knew, but the museum was already closed - and Shorty was probably on his way home by now. I'll call him at his house a little later, the private eye decided.

    Goodsport reclined back in his chair, pondering. Who else would know about foreign artifacts? He thought for several minutes - and then he remembered. He sat up and rummaged through the top drawer of his desk. After a minute, Goodsport pulled out the photograph that he was looking for. Goodsport read the back of the photograph and smiled.

CLICK HERE TO READ THE BACK OF THE PHOTOGRAPH

    He's been around the world and seen a lot in that seaplane of his, Goodsport recalled, he must have heard SOMETHING about this 'Golden Spider'! The private eye dialed the number to where he knew his buddy was currently staying in town.

* * * * *

    The Bentley limousine's driver deftly navigated his vehicle through the streets of the city. In the back seat, Meg's Italian accent was heard.

    "I offered him the money, Signore Muppet," Meg informed the dapper gentleman sitting next to her, "what do we do know?"

    Muppet glanced at his pocket watch, then pocketed it. "Elementary, my dear Megara," Muppet replied, the Englishman's demeanor charming the beautiful Italian, "we wait. Are you sure he knows nothing?"

    Meg smiled. "I'm sure of it. I'll keep feeding him the false information, and he will be out of the way until our team in Brazil finds the 'Golden Spider'!"

    "Excellent," nodded Muppet, clearly pleased, "this calls for a celebration. Care for Italian?"

    Meg chuckled. "Very funny, signore. Grazie!"

    The Bentley limousine changed lanes, heading for the nearest Italian restaurant - unaware of the dark Studebaker following some distance behind it.

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

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