CHAPTER 10

Church of St. Isabel, Alborán Island—October 10th, 1965

Cavendish glanced around the church, he was impressed; Wolff was living up to his reputation. The former Waffen-SS Major had been very busy indeed. The derelict church was transformed into a CEDADE operations centre and weapons base. Rotting wooden pews had been shoved to the side and scaffolding erected to create a three storey arsenal within the nave; where soldiers now loaded up crates with explosives and firearms.

"Wow, you guys mean business!" Parker—the Yankee cat burglar who'd invited himself along—was equally impressed. Cavendish glanced to the case in Parker's hand. The swine had taken him for a fool, but the chancer was about to discover exactly what sort of business he'd got himself embroiled in.

The two men walked up to the chancel where a tall, broad shouldered men in his mid-fifties barked orders in rudimentary Spanish to a pair of young soldiers. He wore a dark green military suit displaying the CEDADE emblem. The man turned to Cavendish, then glanced at Parker. The man's square face was frozen in a permanent scowl.

Cavendish did a Nazi salute. "Cedade!"

The man did likewise, and when he spoke to Cavendish he did so with a German accent.

"Who is this?"

"Major Wolff, meet Mr. Parker. He is the gentleman who acquired the...artifact for us."

Parker grinned, raised his hand and saluted. "Cedade!"

Wolff continued to address Cavendish.

"Why is he here?"

"I'm here because I've been doing my homework." Parker gestured to the case. "This thing is worth a heck of a lot more than the two grand the professor here tried to buy me off with. I've seen what it's capable of." Parker looked around the church. "Whatever's going down here, I want in."

Wolff glanced to Parker and then back to Cavendish.

"I see."

In one smooth movement Wolff removed a Luger from inside his jacket, raised the weapon and shot Parker in the head. Wolff kept his eyes fixed, unblinkingly, on Cavendish the whole time.

Wolff replaced the weapon. "You should have done that a week ago. Saved yourself the cost of his flight."

"Mine and your working methods are... somewhat different." Cavendish smiled. Wolff didn't. He snapped in Spanish to a couple of soldiers who hurriedly grabbed Parker's corpse and carried it through to the vestry.

Wolff scooped up the case. "It is in here?"

"It is." Cavendish held out his hand; it appeared the Major was starting to forget who was in charge. "But first, let me see the tablet."

There was a pause. Then Wolff begrudgingly handed the case to Cavendish. He gestured to another soldier who hurried into the vestry.

"I'm investing a great number of my men, a great deal of our time and resources in this... operation of yours," Wolff scowled.

"I assure you, the rewards will be plentiful. To you personally, and to our cause."

The soldier emerged from the vestry, carefully carrying a small package—around eight by ten inches—wrapped in red silk. He passed it to Wolff who peeled back the silk to reveal an ancient clay tablet covered in cuneiform indentations.

Cavendish removed his reading spectacles and lent in close to study the tablet. A smile spread across his face.

"This is it! The thirteenth tablet of Gilgamesh!"

"You can read it?" Wolff asked.

"Partially, alas my colleague is the real expert. Sadly she was unable to make the trip." Cavendish whipped off his glasses and looked to Wolff. "But you have sent copies, to your contact? To be translated?"

Wolff nodded. "It is all in order."

Cavendish replaced his glasses and looked back to the tablet, he was practically giddy. "Gilgamesh's journey to Irkalla, laid out in detail."

Wolff re-covered the tablet.

"The sword!"

Cavendish glared at the Major. He removed his glasses and slid them back into his pocket. Then he slowly unclipped the case.

The Sword of Irkalla gleamed, resting snugly in purple cushioned casing. Wolff's eyes widened as he took in the ethereal beauty of the weapon. In the dimly lit church the sword gave off a faint, golden, otherworldly glow.

Cavendish slammed the case shut. "So let us toast our success!"

Wolff turned and led Cavendish to his desk at the rear of the chancel. Cavendish's attention was seized momentarily by a beautiful stained glass window; illuminated by the moonlight, it depicted Christ's ascension to Heaven. Wolff retrieved a bottle of single malt whiskey and poured two generous glassfuls.

Cavendish looked down from the window to Wolff. "Hitler longed to prove Aryan superiority by harnessing the might of the primeval gods," Cavendish continued as Wolff passed him a glass. "Yet it eluded him."

They both raised their glasses. Cavendish smiled.

"So, let us drink to Hitler's dream... resurrected!"

They chinked their glasses—and the glasses exploded. Cavendish and Wolff showered in fragments of glass and twenty year old whiskey. It took Cavendish a second to register the gunshot; then he heard an American voice.

"Don't count your chickens, professor!"

From within the shadows, behind the pews, a figure stepped forward.

Indiana Jones. His revolver pointing to Cavendish's head.

As he moved into the nave, Indy counted half a dozen guns fixed on him.

"Doctor Jones, what a pleasant surprise!" Cavendish was completely unshaken. He placed the sword's case on the desk and turned to the German Major.

"Ask your men to lower their weapons."

Wolff furrowed his brow.

"This is between Jones and I. He wants to kill me, and I can't say I blame him. I'm afraid no number of firearms pointed at his head will change his mind. Am I right, doctor?"

"Damn right." Indy growled.

Wolff took a moment, then barked to his men in Spanish and they lowered their guns.

"Although...if I may say, the fact you aimed your first shot at the glass—and not my skull—reveals that you're not quite ready to kill me. Not yet."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"You're a man of science, aren't you Indiana? Above all else you crave knowledge. You want answers. We are the same in that regard. Spilling my blood before you've received those answers will leave you... unfulfilled. It will do nothing to sate your rage."

"Who says I want my rage satin'?"

Cavendish smiled. "Your wife's death was unfortunate. Indeed one might say entirely avoidable. That is, if you hadn't been so hell bent on stopping poor Mr. Parker going about his business."

Cavendish started to loosen his bowtie. Indy knew he was playing for time, but he also knew the professor was right. Indy wanted answers. He wanted to know what Cavendish was planning. He wanted to know why Marion had died.

Cavendish went on. "But there is a certain... symmetry to our circumstances. A balancing of the scales, so to speak."

Indy had no idea what the bastard was talking about.

"Get to the point." Indy fired a shot above Cavendish's head. The professor flinched, paused for a moment, but then smiled again and continued removing his bowtie. The CEDADE guns were trained on Indy once more.

Cavendish unbuttoned his shirt collar and removed a large jewel encrusted pendant which was hanging from his neck. A golden amulet Indy hadn't seen in almost forty years. Erik the Red's sun compass.

The compass sparkled, catching the light as Cavendish twirled it in his fingers.

"A gift... from my father."

Indy's head spun with the realisation. Cavendish continued.

"Cavendish was a... role I adapted, after the War. I have to say, I've become quite attached to him. His voice, mannerisms have become effortless, second nature. My birth name was Nils Ziegler." Cavendish looked up from the compass, fixing Indy square in the eye. "I believe you and my father were acquainted?"

Indy was floored, his mind racing—the sword, Ziegler, Marion, the compass. He needed to focus. To cut through to what mattered, what was real. Marion was dead because of this bastard. Indy was gonna make sure he paid for it.

Cavendish went on. "As I said, Doctor Jones. There is a symmetry to our predicament. You killed my father. I killed your wife. One could argue that neither of us meant to cause the other harm, but of course that doesn't change the cold hard facts now, does it?" Cavendish paced towards Indy and continued.

"We're even. So turn around, walk out of here, and I'll make sure you make it safely from the island. You have my word."

Indy could feel his face reddening with fury at the arrogance of this son-of-a-bitch. He glanced left and right, CEDADE soldiers poised to take him out. But what did he care? So long as he could kill Cavendish first and ensure justice was done for Marion.

"I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you!"

Indy readied to pull the trigger. Cavendish just smiled, he shouted back to Wolff.

"Major, bring out the prisoner!" Then he addressed Indy. "I was twelve years old when you murdered my father. He was my hero, my best friend, my whole world. There's no stronger bond than that between father and son, is there Doctor Jones?"

A prisoner was led from the vestry. A young man in his late twenties, his hands tied behind his back. He'd been badly beaten, his clothes were in tatters, stained and bloody. Major Wolff held a Luger to the back of his skull.

Indy's heart dropped into his stomach. The young man looked at him, blood dripping from his mouth, his voice was laced with bitterness.

"Hey dad!"