Chapter 55

Twenty minutes later Indiana Jones, Deborah Matson, and Rita Chatsworth were back in Rita's office. But there was also a fourth presence in the room, an angry little man who sat mute on her large oak desk. Jones' staurolite 'good luck' crystal had stopped vibrating for some time now. He didn't know why, but it was something he would have to figure out later.

"He certainly does look angry, doesn't he?" Rita said.

"We'll need to find a suitable box or crate to package him up in," Jones said. "Do you think you could help us out?"

"Certainly, we can take him down to the lab and get a suitable 'vehicle of transfer' for him."

Deborah, who had remained very quiet during much of the afternoon, now spoke.

"While you are taking care of that Doctor Jones I'm going to go and get a refill for our gas tank. We've got a long night drive back to London ahead of us."

"Do we need to leave tonight?" Jones asked.

"Yes!" Deborah answered, rather tersely.

Indy couldn't help noticing that Deborah had seemed to become more agitated and nervous, especially since their run in with their pursuers near Chippenham earlier in the day. Now with the discovery of the idol, her agitation seemed to have ratcheted up even more.

"So we're going to split up again?" Jones asked.

"Yes, Doctor Jones, you take care of the idol here, and I will fill up our tank for the drive tonight."

"OK, you're the boss," he said, trying to lighten her up a bit.

"Where is the nearest petrol station?" She asked Rita.

"There's one just about a block from here," she answered. "Just down Park Row, near the corner of Woodland."

"Thank you," Deborah said, and then turned to Jones. "Get the idol wrapped up and be waiting out front. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Rita let Deborah out through a small staff entrance, and then locked it back up. When she returned to her office she spoke to Jones.

"I'm not sure I like her too much," she said of Deborah, and then she cocked her head slightly. "Are you two ….?" She posed the unspoken question.

Jones immediately understood. "Oh… no, no it's strictly business."

"Strictly business? No pleasure?" She teased.

Jones blushed.

"Well let's take the angry little man down to the lab and get him packaged up," Rita let him off the hook.

After packaging the idol in a small wooden crate, she escorted Jones to the same side door where she'd let Deborah out.

"You know there is one more thing Doctor Jones."

"Yes?" Indy said.

"You never did get my permission to remove this piece from my museum," she said matter-of-factly.

"Are you serious?
"Of course I'm serious."

"It's not like it's going to be missed," Jones said defensively. "It's been sitting down there in that dungeon for the last 15 years."

"No matter, you need my permission," Rita insisted.

So how do I get your permission?"

Then she smiled playfully and handed him a piece of note paper with her address and telephone number.

"You need to promise to look me up next time you're in Bristol."

A smile slowly spread across Jones face.

"OK, you drive a hard bargain, but I'll take it. I promise."

Jones slipped the paper into his jacket.

Rita smiled. "And it will be pleasure, not business," she winked.

Twenty minutes later Indiana Jones was still waiting out in front of the museum, holding the small wooden crate. He was standing under a nearby awning to keep out of the increasing rain when the Mercedes roadster finally came around the corner.

When the car came to a stop Jones walked around to the back and opened the lid of the trunk, or the 'boot' as they say in England.

Deborah's door suddenly flew open. "What are you doing?!" She shouted in an agitated manner.

Jones was taken a bit by surprise. "I'm putting the idol in the trunk," he said.

"Well hurry up about it!"

"Settle down sister," Jones mumbled under his breath as he adjusted the contents of the trunk to accommodate the small wooden crate. He placed it inside and then closed the lid.

He got in the car and Deborah sped away from the curb with a squeal.

"What's the big hurry?" He asked.

"We've got to get the idol back to London as soon as possible. I have contacts waiting there to arrange shipment to Washington."

"Washington?" Jones looked over at her.

"Yes Washington."

"What if I want to have access to it? …to study it?" He asked.

"You'll have to talk to the Government about that Doctor Jones. In the meantime I have my orders. Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Jones leaned his head back on the comfortable head rest of the luxury roadster passenger seat. He closed his eyes and appeared deep in thought as Deborah drove on into the night.

She drove even faster than she had during the day.

After several long minutes Jones sat back up straight with a determined look in his eye. He looked out the window of the roadster to the passing countryside. Even though it was dark now he could still make out many features of the roadway.

He looked over at her. "Aren't you driving a little too fast, considering the rain, and the darkness?"

"We've got to get to London as soon as possible, there isn't time to waste," she answered back.

Jones paused for a several moments, and then spoke in rapid German. "Du gehst falsch."

"Das ist…." Deborah began to answer, and then quickly caught herself, but it was too late.

She turned to Jones, and found herself staring down the barrel of his .455 Webley hand gun.

"That's right…..Fraulein…you're going the wrong way; this aint the way to London."

Deborah turned her pretty blue eyes back on to the road and stepped more firmly on to the accelerator. A look of frustration, but also of determination showed on her face.

"I'd suspected something wasn't quite right all along," Jones said. "I couldn't put my finger on it and confirm it until I was putting the crate into the trunk a short while ago."

He paused for a moment, Deborah threw him a cold stare, and then Jones went on. "You're getting sloppy …Deborah….if that is even your name. You failed to fully close the box on your transmitter set, and when I moved your handbag, this fell out," he held up a Nazi code book with his left hand; his right still coolly trained the Webley directly at her head.

An angry look formed in Indiana Jones eyes. "That's why you always wanted to 'split up' as you put it. You needed to contact your Nazi comrades," Jones eyes then narrowed even more. "And that's why I was thrown into that cell in Spain. You needed to put me on ice while you met with your Gestapo superiors there, maybe to get your follow-on orders," he then raised his voice, almost shouting. "But did you really have to put me up in front of that damn firing squad!?"

"That wasn't supposed to happen like that!" She shouted back. "That was a mistake!"

"A mistake?" Jones feigned incredulity.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," she said in a quieter voice, almost apologetically.

"Well it did!" Jones said, reliving the uncomfortable memory.

"What are you going to do Doctor Jones…Shoot me? Remember, I saved your life."

"I was wondering about that." he said. "You were sure one cool customer when you blew your own comrade's brains out there on the beach."

"Meyer was a sadistic psychopath. He was going rogue, and he'd become a liability!" She replied.

She then raised her voice a little more. "For your information Doctor Jones my orders when I got to the Azores were two-fold. Find you, and liquidate Meyer. It just so happened that both happened simultaneously," she turned to him again momentarily. "And lucky for you I might add."

Jones couldn't deny that, much as he wished he could.

Suddenly realizing that she might be stalling for time, he waved the Webley briefly and said. "Turn around at the next roundabout and head back to Bristol. What do you say we pay a visit to the Police Station and sort the rest of this out there?"

Deborah threw him another cold look before focusing her eyes fully back on the road. She gripped tightly to the steering wheel and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

The high performance roadster lurched forward and the night time scenery began to fly past at frightening speed.

Jones momentarily lost his balance but quickly recovered. He gripped the Webley with both hands now.

"PULL OVER!" He shouted at her.

But Deborah just ignored him and continued driving the Mercedes at break neck speed.

"PULL OVER! …..NOW!"

The young woman truly had nerves of steel as she deftly negotiated numerous bends in the road with tires squealing.

"PULL OVER! OR BY ALL THE GODS I SWEAR I"LL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT!"

Deborah took her eyes off the road for a fraction of a second, just long enough to flash Jones a cold, cryptic smile.

Indiana Jones had had enough. He lunged across the cockpit of the little sports car, grabbed Deborah by the hair, and placed the muzzle of his Webley directly up against the side of her head.

"PULL OVER YOU CRAZY NAZI BITCH! OR I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU IN THREE SECONDS! ….ONE….TWO!"

Deborah abruptly pulled her foot off of the accelerator. The car slowed and eventually she brought it to a stop by the side of the road.

Jones let go of her hair and pulled the gun away from her head, but he kept it trained squarely on her.

She fixed her steel blue eyes directly on him. "Amerikanisch Schwein!"

"Whatever," Jones said and waved the hand gun at her. "Out of the car, and put your hands on your head," he ordered.

She stepped out and actually did as he said, obediently placing her hands atop her head. But she wasn't finished with the insults.

"AMERIKANISCH SCHWEIN! FAHR ZUR HOLLE!"

Jones exited the passenger's side, keeping the gun trained on Deborah.

"Shut your mouth!" He commanded.

The rain had stopped here and only a low lying misty fog remained.

As he looked around Indy thought he recognized where they were. Then he heard waves lapping up to a beach and realized why his surroundings looked familiar. They were either back on Sea Road in Clevedon where they'd met Mrs. Victoria Davenport earlier in the day, or they were somewhere close by to there, somewhere near to the Bristol Channel.

"Are you going to shoot me here, Doctor Jones?" She threw him a look of defiance.

"No one is going to shoot anyone," Jones answered.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," a male Teutonic voice spoke from the fog behind him.

Indy threw a quick glance back over his right shoulder.

There, emerging out of the fog, a uniformed Kriegsmarine sailor approached with a submachine gun squarely aimed at Jones' mid section. A quick glance to his left revealed another sailor approaching from that side, similarly armed. Locked, loaded and trained on Indiana Jones.

Then he felt the (all too familiar) cold muzzle of a German Luger pistol placed against the base of his skull.

"Are you sure that no one is going to shoot anyone?" The Kriegsmarine Leutnant holding the pistol spoke mockingly. "Really? Maybe I shoot you, Amerikanisch Schwein! Drop your weapon!"

Jones knew he was outnumbered, and outgunned; not the time for heroics. He let his Webley fall to the ground.

Deborah brought her hands back down off of her head and approached Jones. She stopped a few feet in front of him.

She assumed a sultry look with her eyes. "Goodbye Indy. And thank you for last night."

Jones grimaced. "You crazy Naz….."

That's as far as he got before the well directed butt of a German submachine gun struck the back of his head.

After that it was lights out for Indiana Jones.

A few minutes later Deborah, accompanied by the Kriegsmarine officer and the two sailors descended the low cliffs down to the beach. One of the sailors carried the small crate with the idol. Another sailor awaited them at the water's edge in a black rubber dingy.

The night was dark, and the low fog only enhanced the stealth of the clandestine operation.

When all were aboard, the last sailor pushed the dingy out into the water and jumped on.

Together they rowed out into the channel, and in a few minutes arrived at the low silhouette of German U-boat U-121 lurking in the darkness.

The group climbed on to the hull and then down the conning tower and into the belly of the submarine. The crate with the idol was carefully and gingerly passed down the ladder.

When all were safely below decks, with their 'special cargo' securely stowed, the boat slipped quietly beneath the waves and disappeared.