Indiana Jones and the [?]

Disclaimer: I don't own Indeh, as much as I wish I did. Or Marcus Brody.
A/N: This one is longer! Yay, feel happy. ... yes, I are very lazy, I should have updated sooner, but couldn't be stuffed. Sorry.

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After consulting Marcus Brody, ignoring his advice, taking a look at the term papers that were meant to have been graded the month before and popping into the optician's to get his glasses fixed, Indiana decided it was probably time to give Pierce's secretary a phone call. Picking up the receiver and dialing the scribbled number on the back of the card, Indiana sheepishly realized the threes were actually fives¹ when the person on the other line greeted him with a 'Привет?'. So he dialed again, and this time was relieved when the secretary picked up and said, "Sir Pierce's office. Who's speaking?"
"It's In— um, Dr. Jones. From the museum."
"Ah, Dr. Jones. I spoke to you yesterday, I believe." There was a rustling of paper. "Are you free at three o'clock?"
"Um," said Indiana, becoming increasingly flustered for no apparent reason, "yes?"
"Good," said the secretary in a satisfied manner. "We'll see you then. My employer's looking forward to your meeting. Good day."
And before Indiana had a chance to say anything else, the secretary put down the phone.

"Charming," said Indiana irritably, realizing he had managed to land himself into an engagement with Pierce. "See you then."
And he, too, put down the phone.

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Three o'clock came, and Indiana found himself standing outside a big, white house which was almost definitely the home of Sir Jeremy Pierce, unless Pierce was one of those people who put the wrong address on his business cards. Indiana checked his watch – five past three – sighed, and rapped on the door firmly. After a couple of minutes, it creaked open slowly (almost like in a modern-day horror movie), revealing a long hall with a grand marble staircase leading to the upper levels. The first thing Indiana noticed was not the expensive-looking paintings and vases adorning the walls, nor the gigantic crystal chandelier that was swaying gently back and forth, but the enormous butler standing right in front of him.

"Yes?" asked the butler, raising an eyebrow at Indiana, who by now felt very disheveled indeed.

"I'm… um… here to see Mr. Pierce."
His attempts at sounding confident were failing ridiculously.

The butler studied him for a moment, consulted a clipboard which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, then shrugged. "Come in."

Indiana stepped inside, glancing around at the colorful paintings on the wall, when all of a sudden, the huge butler swept him up and pinned him to the wall. Indiana struggled, but as previously stated the butler was enormous and much stronger than he was. He was trapped.

"Wha–?" he gasped in a futile attempt to breathe.

"Who are you?" hissed the butler, who seemed to have the air of a very irritated person that was completely sick of pinning people to walls but had to do so nonetheless because it was what he was getting paid for.

"Doctor… Jones…" said Indiana, almost certain he was going to die of suffocation in a few moments.

The butler relaxed his grip, but still didn't release him. "You're Jones?"

"Yes!"
Eyes still narrowed, the butler let Indiana go and prodded him. "The Master's waiting upstairs. I'll take you. Follow me."
Indiana didn't have a chance to, though, as the butler took him by the shoulder and marched him up the stairs, down a similarly furnished hallway, and through a set of mahogany doors.

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Fin