29
Shopping
"Indiana Jones," the man holding the gun lowered it and then smiled, "what brings you to my little corner of the world my old friend? And what have you gone and done to your arm?"
"Hello Jan," Jones extended his hand, "it's been a long time."
Despite his thinning hair Jan Van der Moot still cut a dashing figure. He was handsome, with a pencil thin mustache that lent rakishness to his good looks.
"Yes it has," Jan Van der Moot opened the drawer of a small table, put away the gun, and then shook Indy's hand warmly. Then he looked at Vadoma. There was no mistaking the rascally look as his eyes lustily drank in her beauty and the supple curves of her body like a cat sizing up prey. He smiled charmingly at her and then said to Jones, "My, my, and the company you keep seems to improve every time that I see you Jones. Who is your lovely friend?"
Indy hesitated a moment, gave a sidelong glance at Vadoma, and then answered, "This is my associate ...Maria Roma."
Van der Moot reached down and lifted Vadoma's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss, "Miss Roma I am truly charmed to meet you."
Vadoma gave a shy smile, then glanced at Indy and her smile turned to one of appreciation; appreciation for having given her gadje name and not her gypsy name. Her gypsy name was something private, and intimate, and not something to share lightly with an outsider. Gypsies as a people often had very little in life, and so their names were a possession that they held both valuable and sacred.
"Please come into my parlor," Van der Moot gestured politely with his hand.
"Said the spider to the fly," Jones mumbled silently under his breath.
While he and Van der Moot called each other 'friend', and Jones had indeed saved the man's life, Jones still would not count him among that short list of people that he could trust. The man's thin veil of respectability covered a seedy criminality that had earned Van der Moot a lot of money, but also a lot of enemies. Anyone who made a habit of answering the door with a handgun had to be trusted with caution. But right now Indy and Vadoma's needs were simple, and Jones believed that Van der Moot could give them exactly what they needed.
They retired to the parlor where Van der Moot offered drinks. Jones and Vadoma both accepted a glass of whiskey on ice. The Dutchman poured one for himself, and then the three of them sat down to talk business.
"So tell me about your arm," He asked Indy.
"Oh, it's nothing, just a bit of bad luck." Jones answered him.
"Yes, I certainly know how that can go. So, what is it you need my friend?" Van der Moot asked.
Jones sipped his whiskey, "I need to get to Egypt, as quickly as possible."
The man smiled, "I'm sorry, I don't run a travel agency here Jones, but I can put you in contact with some associates of mine who ...."
"No, that won't be necessary," Indy said, "I already know how I'm going to get there. But there's something I...we," he gestured at Vadoma, "need to have first. And I think you can provide it."
"And what would that be?" Van der Moot was intrigued.
"False identity papers." Jones answered.
He studied Indy and Vadoma for a moment, "Why on earth do you need false identity papers?"
"Because we'll be traveling through Germany."
At the mention of Germany Vadoma turned quickly and stared at Jones, "Germany?" She said with no slight amount of surprise in her voice. But there was also emotion, as she thought again of Pesha.
"Why would you of all people want to travel through Germany Jones?" The Dutchman gave out with a hearty little laugh, "You're crazy. Why there's even a rumor that the Fuhrer himself has a personal vendetta against you."
"Precisely why I need false identity papers," Jones said.
Van der Moot studied him for a moment, "But you still haven't answered my question: why Germany?"
Jones glanced back over at Vadoma while he spoke to Van der Moot, "Two reasons: one, time; as I said, we need to get to Egypt as soon as possible. Despite Herr Hitler's shortcomings there's no more efficient or faster rail system in the world than Germany's. The way I see it we can pass through the entire country in half a day, get to Switzerland, then Italy, and then get a ship across the Med bound for Cairo.
"Why don't you just take a ship from here in Amsterdam?" Van der Moot asked.
"Too slow," Jones answered.
"Then why not just travel through France down to Marseille?"
Jones took another sip of his whisky, "That's reason number two," he said, "France is off limits for the time being."
The Dutchman gave him an inquisitive look that begged for more information.
Indiana Jones didn't want to have to go into too much detail about their current predicament, but on the other hand he knew that Jan Van der Moot was the type of man who wouldn't be satisfied with half the story. And so for the next several minutes, and another glass of whisky, he summarized the course of events that had led him and Vadoma to Amsterdam, the urgency of their need to get to Egypt, and the reasons why they could not travel through France.
"I see more clearly now," Van der Moot said when Jones was finished. He stood up and poured himself another drink as he spoke to Jones, "I believe that I can accommodate you and your, lovely traveling companion, Jones," he smiled and winked at Vadoma briefly and then sat back down, "and as you know my work is of the highest quality."
"That's why I'm here," Jones said.
"But as you know I'm a businessman and..."
Jones threw a wad of English pound notes on the table, interrupting Van der Moot in mid-sentence.
"Since I did save your life once Jan, this ought to be enough." Jones stated with finality.
Van der Moot picked up the bills and a cursory glance was all that his keen eye needed. He nodded his head with satisfaction, "Plenty," he said, and then stood up, "Well then, I'll need to take some photographs, and then I'll need to know what names you'll want on the papers."
Indiana Jones handed him a piece of paper on which he had written all of the vital information for a fictitious American couple He'd worked it all out during the trip up from Calais, and had come up with the most convincing information he could think of.
The Dutchman scrutinized the paper for a moment, "Yes, yes, very good. This will do fine. Now please follow me."
Indy and Vadoma followed Van der Moot into a back room of the house. He hunted in the closet for a few minutes for a camera and some other equipment, and then spent several more minutes setting it up. When he was finished he took two portrait photos of each of them.
"Yes, well, it will take some time," he said when finished.
"How long?" Indiana Jones asked.
"At least two or three hours."
"Good," Indy said, and then looked at Vadoma, "gives us a little time to do some shopping. We need to update our winter wardrobe." Then he looked back at Van der Moot, "When's the earliest train out of here for Germany?"
"You know Jones, the trains run all night here in Europe. If I'm not mistaken there's a train that leaves for Dusseldorf at eleven pm tonight."
Jones glanced at his watch for a moment, "We'll be back in a few hours," he said.
"I'll have your papers ready," Van der Moot said.
Jones reached the front door, but then paused for a moment, and turned back around. He examined his cast for a moment and moved the plaster encased arm around a few times. Then he spoke to Vadoma, "Have a seat and wait for me a few minutes."
"Alright," she said.
With that, Jones disappeared back into the room where Jan Van der Moot worked on processing the photographs, and their identity papers. He asked the Dutchman for a hacksaw, a claw hammer, some soap, and a small trash bag, and then disappeared into the bathroom for ten minutes. When he emerged, the cast was gone from his arm with the remnants wrapped neatly in the trash bag.
Van der Moot looked up from his work as Jones came out of the bathroom, "Yes, I was going to suggest that myself, but I didn't know if it was sufficiently healed. You were a marked man with that cast Jones."
"Not anymore," Indy said as he gingerly moved the arm around, testing it.
Whether it was fully healed or not Jones felt he didn't have a choice. As Van der Moot had said, he was rather a marked man with the cast on. He had no pain, and had full range of motion; he'd just have to be careful with it for a little while. He'd always been a fast healer.
Indy and Vadoma departed back out into the late afternoon's waning rays of sunlight. The skies had cleared, and the night promised to be cold. Jones knew that the Alps would be even colder. He hailed a taxi and they headed down town.
Just ten minutes later they arrived at the Leiderstraat district, Amsterdam's main shopping area. The street was lined with all of the most popular of Europe's best department stores.
Like any woman worth her salt Vadoma glowed with an internal excitement and energy that shopping seems to bring out in all of the fairer sex. And so it was that after two hours of escalators, clothing racks, shoe stores, and furriers, Jones was exhausted while Vadoma looked like she had more energy than when they'd started.
"Let's take a break," Jones said to her, and guided her across the street to a small park where a venerable old statue of some heroic Dutchman from days past stood in the middle of a footbridge over one of the ubiquitous canals that interlaced the old city of Amsterdam.
The evening was indeed growing colder, but that didn't matter now. Vadoma was warm and cozy with her knit, winter cap, soft, rabbit fur ear muffs, and her new woolen dress and knee socks that she wore under her fresh off the rack, fox and sable coat.
She looked down at the fashionable and splendidly warm coat, and then back up at Indiana Jones. She smiled, "Thank you Indy, thank you so much."
"Don't thank me, thank Malboury...it's his money."
She studied his face for a moment, "Richard Malboury will be thanking you soon Indy; thanking you for rescuing him. I'm sure he won't worry over some money when it comes to saving his life."
"If we save his life," Jones said quietly.
Indiana Jones hadn't changed his own wardrobe too much. But he had added a warm sweater to go under his leather jacket, as well as a woolen ski band to keep his ears warm under his fedora. Both of them carried new, small, travel suitcases also, that held socks and undergarments as well as some more shirts, pants, and slacks, and a couple more dresses for Vadoma.
The Alps would be cold, but Egypt certainly was not.
A small canal barge slipped noiselessly through the cold water beneath them. Jones turned to Vadoma and reached out for her hand. She reached out as well and the two held hands for a few silent moments and looked into each other's eyes.
Jones put his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. He stared into the quiet fire that burned in the beautiful gypsy woman's dark sepia eyes. Vadoma's breath came a little faster as Jones held her close and she stared back into his own ruggedly handsome countenance. There was something about this man, she thought, something different than any other she'd ever known in her life. It was much more than just the fact that this man had saved her life.
Indiana Jones now moved to within inches of her full red lips and held her even tighter. He knew that he wanted her. Though it seemed somewhat sudden he knew that it wasn't. From the very first moment that he'd spoken to her through the bars of the jail cell in Scotland Yard....
He moved his lips close to hers. She moaned softly, her eyes closed and her lips parted. Jones went to kiss her. He was surprised when she turned her head to the side.
"Please Indy, do not kiss me."
Jones was a bit taken aback, "Wow," he said, "Geez, I've been turned down before, but...."
She turned back to him. There was an urgent, hurt look in her eyes, "No Indy, you...you don't understand....I...I can not kiss you; not like that. I can not kiss any man...like that"
Indiana Jones let go of her and scratched behind his ear with a confused look in his eyes, "What?"
She looked down at the ground, "I'm sorry, I ...I want to kiss you Indy, but I can not."
"What are you talking about Vadoma?"
"I'm sorry Indy, it is my ...gift."
Now Indiana Jones was even more confused, "What, do you have some kind of disease or something?"
She immediately reacted, stepping back and flashing fire at him from her beautiful eyes, "Disease?! How dare you Indiana Jones! Of course I don't have a disease! What do you think I am?!" She nearly shouted at him, and a few heads of passersby turned to look.
"I'm sorry Vadoma. Please, calm down. I didn't mean to offend you."
"Humph!" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him.
Indy shook his head, "Well what am I to think? You say you can't kiss me because of your...gift."
She turned back towards him. Her hurt expression faded and she looked at him with a bit more sympathy, "I am sorry Indy, I know that I need to explain," she looked down again, "I'm sorry, very sorry," she shook her head and Jones could tell she was about to cry.
He went to her and held her again, "Hey, don't cry on me now," he put his hand up as if to feel the wind, "your tears will freeze out here. Why don't we go and get something hot to drink, then you can tell me all about it."
She sniffed once, and wiped at her eye, cutting off any tears before they had a chance, and then looked up at him. She smiled wanly and nodded her head, and then she hugged him, planting a gentle kiss on the side of his neck.
To say that Indiana Jones was confused would be an understatement.
"Come on, let's get some hot cocoa," he said as they walked back across the street.
Shopping
"Indiana Jones," the man holding the gun lowered it and then smiled, "what brings you to my little corner of the world my old friend? And what have you gone and done to your arm?"
"Hello Jan," Jones extended his hand, "it's been a long time."
Despite his thinning hair Jan Van der Moot still cut a dashing figure. He was handsome, with a pencil thin mustache that lent rakishness to his good looks.
"Yes it has," Jan Van der Moot opened the drawer of a small table, put away the gun, and then shook Indy's hand warmly. Then he looked at Vadoma. There was no mistaking the rascally look as his eyes lustily drank in her beauty and the supple curves of her body like a cat sizing up prey. He smiled charmingly at her and then said to Jones, "My, my, and the company you keep seems to improve every time that I see you Jones. Who is your lovely friend?"
Indy hesitated a moment, gave a sidelong glance at Vadoma, and then answered, "This is my associate ...Maria Roma."
Van der Moot reached down and lifted Vadoma's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss, "Miss Roma I am truly charmed to meet you."
Vadoma gave a shy smile, then glanced at Indy and her smile turned to one of appreciation; appreciation for having given her gadje name and not her gypsy name. Her gypsy name was something private, and intimate, and not something to share lightly with an outsider. Gypsies as a people often had very little in life, and so their names were a possession that they held both valuable and sacred.
"Please come into my parlor," Van der Moot gestured politely with his hand.
"Said the spider to the fly," Jones mumbled silently under his breath.
While he and Van der Moot called each other 'friend', and Jones had indeed saved the man's life, Jones still would not count him among that short list of people that he could trust. The man's thin veil of respectability covered a seedy criminality that had earned Van der Moot a lot of money, but also a lot of enemies. Anyone who made a habit of answering the door with a handgun had to be trusted with caution. But right now Indy and Vadoma's needs were simple, and Jones believed that Van der Moot could give them exactly what they needed.
They retired to the parlor where Van der Moot offered drinks. Jones and Vadoma both accepted a glass of whiskey on ice. The Dutchman poured one for himself, and then the three of them sat down to talk business.
"So tell me about your arm," He asked Indy.
"Oh, it's nothing, just a bit of bad luck." Jones answered him.
"Yes, I certainly know how that can go. So, what is it you need my friend?" Van der Moot asked.
Jones sipped his whiskey, "I need to get to Egypt, as quickly as possible."
The man smiled, "I'm sorry, I don't run a travel agency here Jones, but I can put you in contact with some associates of mine who ...."
"No, that won't be necessary," Indy said, "I already know how I'm going to get there. But there's something I...we," he gestured at Vadoma, "need to have first. And I think you can provide it."
"And what would that be?" Van der Moot was intrigued.
"False identity papers." Jones answered.
He studied Indy and Vadoma for a moment, "Why on earth do you need false identity papers?"
"Because we'll be traveling through Germany."
At the mention of Germany Vadoma turned quickly and stared at Jones, "Germany?" She said with no slight amount of surprise in her voice. But there was also emotion, as she thought again of Pesha.
"Why would you of all people want to travel through Germany Jones?" The Dutchman gave out with a hearty little laugh, "You're crazy. Why there's even a rumor that the Fuhrer himself has a personal vendetta against you."
"Precisely why I need false identity papers," Jones said.
Van der Moot studied him for a moment, "But you still haven't answered my question: why Germany?"
Jones glanced back over at Vadoma while he spoke to Van der Moot, "Two reasons: one, time; as I said, we need to get to Egypt as soon as possible. Despite Herr Hitler's shortcomings there's no more efficient or faster rail system in the world than Germany's. The way I see it we can pass through the entire country in half a day, get to Switzerland, then Italy, and then get a ship across the Med bound for Cairo.
"Why don't you just take a ship from here in Amsterdam?" Van der Moot asked.
"Too slow," Jones answered.
"Then why not just travel through France down to Marseille?"
Jones took another sip of his whisky, "That's reason number two," he said, "France is off limits for the time being."
The Dutchman gave him an inquisitive look that begged for more information.
Indiana Jones didn't want to have to go into too much detail about their current predicament, but on the other hand he knew that Jan Van der Moot was the type of man who wouldn't be satisfied with half the story. And so for the next several minutes, and another glass of whisky, he summarized the course of events that had led him and Vadoma to Amsterdam, the urgency of their need to get to Egypt, and the reasons why they could not travel through France.
"I see more clearly now," Van der Moot said when Jones was finished. He stood up and poured himself another drink as he spoke to Jones, "I believe that I can accommodate you and your, lovely traveling companion, Jones," he smiled and winked at Vadoma briefly and then sat back down, "and as you know my work is of the highest quality."
"That's why I'm here," Jones said.
"But as you know I'm a businessman and..."
Jones threw a wad of English pound notes on the table, interrupting Van der Moot in mid-sentence.
"Since I did save your life once Jan, this ought to be enough." Jones stated with finality.
Van der Moot picked up the bills and a cursory glance was all that his keen eye needed. He nodded his head with satisfaction, "Plenty," he said, and then stood up, "Well then, I'll need to take some photographs, and then I'll need to know what names you'll want on the papers."
Indiana Jones handed him a piece of paper on which he had written all of the vital information for a fictitious American couple He'd worked it all out during the trip up from Calais, and had come up with the most convincing information he could think of.
The Dutchman scrutinized the paper for a moment, "Yes, yes, very good. This will do fine. Now please follow me."
Indy and Vadoma followed Van der Moot into a back room of the house. He hunted in the closet for a few minutes for a camera and some other equipment, and then spent several more minutes setting it up. When he was finished he took two portrait photos of each of them.
"Yes, well, it will take some time," he said when finished.
"How long?" Indiana Jones asked.
"At least two or three hours."
"Good," Indy said, and then looked at Vadoma, "gives us a little time to do some shopping. We need to update our winter wardrobe." Then he looked back at Van der Moot, "When's the earliest train out of here for Germany?"
"You know Jones, the trains run all night here in Europe. If I'm not mistaken there's a train that leaves for Dusseldorf at eleven pm tonight."
Jones glanced at his watch for a moment, "We'll be back in a few hours," he said.
"I'll have your papers ready," Van der Moot said.
Jones reached the front door, but then paused for a moment, and turned back around. He examined his cast for a moment and moved the plaster encased arm around a few times. Then he spoke to Vadoma, "Have a seat and wait for me a few minutes."
"Alright," she said.
With that, Jones disappeared back into the room where Jan Van der Moot worked on processing the photographs, and their identity papers. He asked the Dutchman for a hacksaw, a claw hammer, some soap, and a small trash bag, and then disappeared into the bathroom for ten minutes. When he emerged, the cast was gone from his arm with the remnants wrapped neatly in the trash bag.
Van der Moot looked up from his work as Jones came out of the bathroom, "Yes, I was going to suggest that myself, but I didn't know if it was sufficiently healed. You were a marked man with that cast Jones."
"Not anymore," Indy said as he gingerly moved the arm around, testing it.
Whether it was fully healed or not Jones felt he didn't have a choice. As Van der Moot had said, he was rather a marked man with the cast on. He had no pain, and had full range of motion; he'd just have to be careful with it for a little while. He'd always been a fast healer.
Indy and Vadoma departed back out into the late afternoon's waning rays of sunlight. The skies had cleared, and the night promised to be cold. Jones knew that the Alps would be even colder. He hailed a taxi and they headed down town.
Just ten minutes later they arrived at the Leiderstraat district, Amsterdam's main shopping area. The street was lined with all of the most popular of Europe's best department stores.
Like any woman worth her salt Vadoma glowed with an internal excitement and energy that shopping seems to bring out in all of the fairer sex. And so it was that after two hours of escalators, clothing racks, shoe stores, and furriers, Jones was exhausted while Vadoma looked like she had more energy than when they'd started.
"Let's take a break," Jones said to her, and guided her across the street to a small park where a venerable old statue of some heroic Dutchman from days past stood in the middle of a footbridge over one of the ubiquitous canals that interlaced the old city of Amsterdam.
The evening was indeed growing colder, but that didn't matter now. Vadoma was warm and cozy with her knit, winter cap, soft, rabbit fur ear muffs, and her new woolen dress and knee socks that she wore under her fresh off the rack, fox and sable coat.
She looked down at the fashionable and splendidly warm coat, and then back up at Indiana Jones. She smiled, "Thank you Indy, thank you so much."
"Don't thank me, thank Malboury...it's his money."
She studied his face for a moment, "Richard Malboury will be thanking you soon Indy; thanking you for rescuing him. I'm sure he won't worry over some money when it comes to saving his life."
"If we save his life," Jones said quietly.
Indiana Jones hadn't changed his own wardrobe too much. But he had added a warm sweater to go under his leather jacket, as well as a woolen ski band to keep his ears warm under his fedora. Both of them carried new, small, travel suitcases also, that held socks and undergarments as well as some more shirts, pants, and slacks, and a couple more dresses for Vadoma.
The Alps would be cold, but Egypt certainly was not.
A small canal barge slipped noiselessly through the cold water beneath them. Jones turned to Vadoma and reached out for her hand. She reached out as well and the two held hands for a few silent moments and looked into each other's eyes.
Jones put his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. He stared into the quiet fire that burned in the beautiful gypsy woman's dark sepia eyes. Vadoma's breath came a little faster as Jones held her close and she stared back into his own ruggedly handsome countenance. There was something about this man, she thought, something different than any other she'd ever known in her life. It was much more than just the fact that this man had saved her life.
Indiana Jones now moved to within inches of her full red lips and held her even tighter. He knew that he wanted her. Though it seemed somewhat sudden he knew that it wasn't. From the very first moment that he'd spoken to her through the bars of the jail cell in Scotland Yard....
He moved his lips close to hers. She moaned softly, her eyes closed and her lips parted. Jones went to kiss her. He was surprised when she turned her head to the side.
"Please Indy, do not kiss me."
Jones was a bit taken aback, "Wow," he said, "Geez, I've been turned down before, but...."
She turned back to him. There was an urgent, hurt look in her eyes, "No Indy, you...you don't understand....I...I can not kiss you; not like that. I can not kiss any man...like that"
Indiana Jones let go of her and scratched behind his ear with a confused look in his eyes, "What?"
She looked down at the ground, "I'm sorry, I ...I want to kiss you Indy, but I can not."
"What are you talking about Vadoma?"
"I'm sorry Indy, it is my ...gift."
Now Indiana Jones was even more confused, "What, do you have some kind of disease or something?"
She immediately reacted, stepping back and flashing fire at him from her beautiful eyes, "Disease?! How dare you Indiana Jones! Of course I don't have a disease! What do you think I am?!" She nearly shouted at him, and a few heads of passersby turned to look.
"I'm sorry Vadoma. Please, calm down. I didn't mean to offend you."
"Humph!" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him.
Indy shook his head, "Well what am I to think? You say you can't kiss me because of your...gift."
She turned back towards him. Her hurt expression faded and she looked at him with a bit more sympathy, "I am sorry Indy, I know that I need to explain," she looked down again, "I'm sorry, very sorry," she shook her head and Jones could tell she was about to cry.
He went to her and held her again, "Hey, don't cry on me now," he put his hand up as if to feel the wind, "your tears will freeze out here. Why don't we go and get something hot to drink, then you can tell me all about it."
She sniffed once, and wiped at her eye, cutting off any tears before they had a chance, and then looked up at him. She smiled wanly and nodded her head, and then she hugged him, planting a gentle kiss on the side of his neck.
To say that Indiana Jones was confused would be an understatement.
"Come on, let's get some hot cocoa," he said as they walked back across the street.
