Chapter 25

Jones slept late the next morning. No sense getting up early with no classes to prepare for. He finally rose around nine o'clock. He'd halfway expected Brandt to have already called and was a little surprised that he hadn't. He put on a pot of water to boil, picked up the phone and dialed Marcus' number at the museum.

"Hello?" Marcus answered the phone.

"Good Morning," Indy said.

"Ah, Good Morning Indy. I hope you're feeling better"

"A lot," He answered. "Amazing what a good Italian dinner can do for you."

"Find out anything about our Civil War battle?"

"Plenty," Jones answered succinctly. "Heard from our G-men yet today?"

"Not yet. Why don't you come on into town today and drop by the museum. We'll have lunch. You can fill me in on what you found out, and then we can call Mr. Brandt to find out what's next."

"I'll meet you in your office in about two hours."

"I'll be here."

Jones hung up the phone, fixed himself a cup of green tea, and sat down in his favorite chair. He relaxed and took a few moments to go over things in his mind. There were a lot of questions. Was there really some kind of anti-gravity technology waiting to be discovered in the ruins of Nan Madol? Or was it just…hogwash? Did this idol which Garston spoke of in his journal really exist? Even if it did, where was it now? How was he ever going to find it? Was the whole thing a wild goose chase?

He sipped the soothing tea as he continued to think. Don Garston gave his life for his discoveries. Hell, I almost gave my life for his discoveries! The thought stirred anger deep inside. Not at Garston, but at the Kempetai agents. As much as he tried not to be a vengeful person Jones couldn't help feeling a certain desire for revenge; revenge for Garston's murder, and his own near murder. Yes, the growing desire for vengeance and his own curiosity were now acting in tandem. He got up and didn't even finish the rest of his tea, pouring it down the sink on his way to the shower.

He walked into Marcus Brody's office ninety minutes later.

"You're early," Marcus said.

Jones just shrugged his shoulders.

Marcus studied him for a few moments. "Your black eye is more yellow than black this morning. Looks like it's healing quite well."

"Oh yeah, a few more days and everyone will stop staring at me. And how about you Marcus?" Jones noticed that the small bandage was gone from above his ear.

"Much better."

"Did you ever find out what happened to our driver?" Indy asked.

"He'll recover, but he'll be spending some more time in hospital first."

"That's a relief."

"Amen," Marcus echoed the sentiment. "So tell me what you learned of our Civil War naval battle."

"A very interesting story" Jones sat down in one of the chairs opposite Marcus' desk and proceeded to tell in detail the fascinating story of the CSS Shenandoah. When he'd finished Marcus stood up and walked over to his large picture window overlooking Fifth Avenue. It was a habit that Indy had noticed in his friend many times previously. Whenever he was engrossed in thought he liked to gaze out of his window. Jones sat back and purposely said nothing while Marcus mulled over the information just given.

After a few moments he turned to Indy again. "I would tend to agree with Professor Brewster that our 'man who walks on the water', if he did indeed exist, most probably came from the Confederate vessel."

"I agree," Jones said. "That's why I'd like to try and track down any surviving members of the crew. Maybe some one of them might be able to shed some light on who our man is, or

was."

"But are there any former crewmembers still living? After all it's been…" Marcus cocked his head and did some quick math calculations. "Seventy-two years. Even if a crewmember were as young as twenty-five in 1865, they'd be…"

"Ninety-seven today," Jones finished for him.

"Yes ninety-seven, and if they were even just thirty years old they'd be over a hundred."

"I know," Jones said. "It doesn't look good for locating any survivors. But maybe we could locate some relatives or descendents."

"You say that the British confiscated everything on the ship when they took possession of it?"

"Yes, so who knows where the idol may have ended up?"

Marcus gazed out the window for a few more moments and then turned back around. "I'm in agreement that the best thing to do would be to try and locate someone who was actually there who may have some firsthand knowledge. It might just clear up a lot of questions."

"Randy recommended the Daughters of the Confederacy organization as a good place to start."

"He would know," Marcus said. "I've heard of the organization myself. I believe they're located in…"

"Richmond Virginia," Jones said.

"Yes, the old Capitol of the Confederacy."

Jones paused for a moment in thought, and then looked over at Marcus. "But I guess we'd better pay a call on our fearless…and tactless G-man."

"I suppose so," Marcus agreed.

In what seemed to be becoming an almost daily event, Indy and Marcus once again made their way across town to the big Federal Building on Broadway and up to Brandt's office on the fifth floor.

As usual they were greeted warmly by Agent Walker, and coldly by Brandt.

"Step into my office gentlemen," He said stiffly.

"Good Morning to you too," Jones spoke sarcastically, but Brandt just ignored him.

"I've been in contact with my superiors in Washington," Brandt let the words hang in the air. "For the moment they want to suspend the project."

"What do you mean exactly by 'suspend the project'?" Marcus asked, a look of surprised curiosity on his face.

"Just what I said Professor Brody. Garston's journal, the anti-gravity thing, the whole deal…for now Washington wants to put it on a shelf."

"Why?" Jones asked, equally surprised. "What prompted that?"

"I don't know Jones, I don't make those decisions. But I do know that since the journal was lost…well, they don't think there's enough to go on."

"For the most part I gave you all the most pertinent information that the journal provided," Jones said.

"Well, they don't see it that way. The Caroline Islands are still a possession of the Empire of Japan, and they're pretty far away. Washington feels that without the journal there just isn't enough information to pursue the issue."

"Doesn't the fact that the Japanese sent a whole team of agents to America to get the journal mean anything? Not to mention the fact that they tried to murder three people in the process?"

"That's a matter for the FBI now," Brandt said, and then added "Look Jones, I'm just telling you what Washington says."

Jones looked at Walker. "You yourself said that the Nazis are working with the Japanese on this AG Project."

Walker just shrugged.

"And what about Don Garston?" Jones asked. "Doesn't his death count for anything?"

"Like I said Jones, I don't make these decisions. But Washington wants to put the whole project on a shelf for now," Brand paused. "Who knows, maybe they all came to the conclusion that it's just a bunch of hogwash after all."

Jones shrugged "Could be, but I've been doing a little research myself, and I think it's worth pursuing a little further before we just 'put it on a shelf' as you say."

"What research Doctor Jones?" Walker asked.

"The CSS Shenandoah," he answered.

Walker nodded knowingly. "Yes I looked into the matter of the naval battle myself and learned that it was a Confederate commerce raider that captured and burned some Yankee whaling vessels in the harbor of Pohnpei."

"Did you find out anything more?"

"Not yet really," Walker answered.

Jones paused for a moment. "Well I did," he said, and then briefly told the agents the information that Professor Brewster had provided.

"Good luck finding any of those old geezers alive today Jones," Brandt said when Indy had finished. "Look, you're welcome to continue to research what you want. That kind of bookworm type research is what you're best suited for anyway."

Jones rolled his eyes in exasperation as Brandt once again used the annoying term.

"…But like I said, Washington wants to put in on a shelf for now."

"So that's it?" Indy asked with a slight tone of incredulity.

"That's it for now," Brandt said with a degree of finality.

"Then I guess there's no sense discussing the issue any more here today."

"I guess not," Brandt answered.

Indy and Marcus stood up and started heading for the door. Brandt called out to them "Oh but Jones…"

Indy turned around. "What?"

"One thing though…don't leave town. You never know, I may need you again."

"Something to look forward to," Jones quipped with more than a little sarcasm.

Once outside the building Marcus turned to Indy. "So where does this leave us? Do we just forget about the whole painful affair and go back to business as usual?"

Indy turned to him with a look of disbelief. "You can't be serious Marcus. They've murdered Don Garston, tried to murder both you and I, I've lost my job because of this mess, and you think things can just go back to normal?"

"Of course no," Marcus said. "Just wondering what's on your mind."

"What's on my mind is a train ticket to Richmond Virginia."

"That's just what I was thinking," Marcus said with a twinkle in his eye.

Indy looked down at the pavement. "There's just one little problem though."

"What's that?"

"Having lost my job…I'm not exactly on paid sabbatical…"

"Say no more Indy," Marcus knew what Jones was getting at. "This is legitimate research into what could be a major archaeological discovery. I'll arrange for some funding through the museum."

"Thanks Marcus, I know I can always depend on you."

Marcus smiled slyly. "Of course I'm not sure if I'll mention you by name."

"I understand," Jones smiled. "I know I haven't exactly had a great track record lately."

"When will you leave?"

"Why not tomorrow?"

"Why not indeed. I only wish I could go with you."

"You can't?"

"No, I've got too much going on this week at the museum. Next week is the opening of the exhibition of Roman sarcophagi. I'll be working all this week with the Italian director Francesco Strozzani."

A Yellow cab pulled up to the curb.

As the two men got into the taxi they didn't noticed the tall man with the close-cropped blonde hair standing about fifty feet away. The man watched their movements with pale blue eyes that peered over the edge of an unread newspaper. After watching Indy and Marcus drive away in the taxi, he dropped the newspaper unceremoniously into a trash can and hailed the next cab for himself.