24
On the Run
Indiana Jones slowly rose to his feet.
Vadoma stood up next to him.
"Keep your hands in the air where we can see them," the policeman said.
There were two policemen. One of them steadily held the flashlight beam on Indy and Vadoma while the second approached slowly to search them for weapons. Indiana Jones raised the only hand he could, his right, into the air and swallowed hard. It was going to be awfully hard to explain this one. He wasn't going to have to worry about the syllabuses for spring semester now he thought; instead he'd be spending spring semester in a British prison.
The policeman approached Vadoma and reached cautiously out toward her with one hand while the other held a pair of handcuffs. Jones glanced to his left and caught a glimpse of her eyes.
He saw it. He could read it in her eyes. In an instant he knew what she was going to do. And in a fraction of a second he made his own decision in his mind as to what he was going to do also.
The moment the policeman's hand touched Vadoma's arm she shouted at him, "Rikona!" Her leg then shot up with surprising speed and force. It caught the unprepared and unfortunate bobby between the legs, instantly dropping the man to the ground. Then she was off like a shot.
Indiana Jones had less than a second to finalize his own decision on what to do next. In that short span of time a multitude of thoughts jumbled through his mind, but chief among them was the fact that there wasn't really much MORE trouble he could be in than he was now already in.
The archaeologist lunged forward at the second policeman, knocking him to the ground and knocking the flashlight out of his hand. Then Jones was off, once again running after the fleeing gypsy woman.
He quickly caught up with her. But this time, instead of stopping her he grabbed hold of her hand and began pulling her along. Shouts from several voices could now be heard behind them as more policemen were converging on the scene.
Jones and Vadoma turned into a narrow alley. They passed through and came out on the other side on a street that ran parallel with the Thames River. The fog was thick here near the river's edge and Indy hoped that they could use that to their advantage. Jones then heard several whistles blow. Their pursuers were multiplying, and getting organized. It didn't look good for the pair of fugitives despite the darkness of night, and the London fog. They needed to find some place to hide, and quickly.
Jones pulled Vadoma along, she gripped tightly to his hand, trusting in the man who had saved her life, and was now risking his future to help her to get away from the policemen.
The pair descended a small sloping street that led right down to the Thames waterfront. There was a group of small warehouses positioned next to a large wharf with several river barges tied up. Indiana Jones made for the barges.
"Where can we go?" She asked anxiously.
"Just follow me, I've got an idea," Jones answered.
They ran down the wharf towards the river. Their footsteps were muffled by the dampness of the rotted timbers of the old pier. But at the same time they had to be careful of the many holes and broken boards that awaited the unwary step, and caused them to slow down.
The fog was very thick here; so thick that the barge tied up next to the pier could just barely be discerned until they were almost upon it.
"Get on," Jones held his hand up to assist Vadoma to get aboard the barge.
"Are you crazy Indiana Jones? What are you trying to do? They'll find us here."
"Just trust me!" He said to her and gestured for her to get aboard the small, fifteen meter long, river vessel.
There were actually three barges tied up together. Jones and Vadoma climbed aboard the first, and then crossed to the next one, and then finally to the furthest barge. Voices and whistles in the distance prompted them to move faster. Scotland Yard was gaining on them, and it sounded like they were on the right trail.
"Help me with these lines!" Jones called out to Vadoma as he struggled to release one of the lines fastening the barge with his one good hand.
She came over and helped him to untie the bow line and pull it aboard. Then, together they untied the stern line in the same fashion. Jones then pushed off with his hand, trying to move the small river craft out into the water and away from the pier area. Vadoma could see what he was trying to do now, and she also pushed with her hand. The progress was slow, but in a few moments they were away from the pier and drifting out into the river. The slow but inexorable current of the Thames eventually took hold. The small barge drifted out through the thick London fog and further towards the center of the river. To anyone viewing from the waterfront it was as if the craft had disappeared behind a thick white curtain.
Just seconds after the barge disappeared into the fog a group of Scotland Yard policemen ran down the pier. They searched around in all directions with their flashlights. They shined the beams out into the river itself but were only met with the glaring reflection of the impenetrable, dirty- white fog.
The slow drifting barge had left no wake, nor any trace.
"Search those barges!" A policeman said as he pointed to the remaining two vessels, "Search the warehouses! They've got to be here somewhere. There's nowhere else they could have gone. They can't have just disappeared!"
"Wait 'till I get me 'ands on that gypsy tart what kicked me in me family jewels!" Another of the policemen cursed.
But Indiana Jones and the woman could not hear the police on the pier. Not only did the heavy fog conceal him and Vadoma from view, it also acted as a filter, muffling out the sound of the pursuing policemen and the sound of their whistles.
They floated along silently. Indiana Jones sat without speaking; a tense expression of deep concentration on his face. Vadoma shivered slightly. The damp evening was growing colder as it progressed through the midnight hour. Indy noticed her shivering and pulled off his leather jacket. He draped it over her shoulders.
She stared for a long time into his eyes, her ruby lips curved into an appreciative smile. Then she looked away.
"What will we do now Indiana Jones? Where can we go?"
Jones just looked out into the suffocating whiteness all around them, "I don't know. For now I guess that's pretty much up to the river."
"We must leave this country. We must get out of England," she said.
Indiana Jones listened to her words and contemplated the magnitude of the mess that he had gotten himself into. He glanced at his pocket watch for a moment. Though just minutes old, 1938 wasn't turning out to be a very good year so far.
He looked down at the floorboards of the barge and shook his head, "I don't know. Give me a chance to think," he looked up and took a deep breath, getting a lung full of heavy London fog, "I've got to call Marcus."
"We must leave this place Indiana Jones!" She spoke forcefully.
"And go where?!" Jones replied, raising his voice.
"Away from here!" Vadoma gestured around with her hands.
"Maybe we'll float all the way to China!" He said exasperatedly, "I need time to think, please."
She nodded as Jones went back to his quiet contemplation.
"I'm in big trouble Vadoma. They think that I came to help you escape. The man who tried to kill you...he probably slipped away in all the commotion. So they don't know...they can't know that I just came to see you...that I didn't have anything to do with your...escape."
Then Jones looked directly at her, "Why did you run? If you hadn't run..."
She looked down, "I'm sorry Indiana Jones if I have gotten you into trouble," she said softly, "you came to help me, and you saved my life. But I had to get away from there. I was not safe there. You saw with your own eyes," her soft low voice reflected the gravity of her words, "tonight you saved my life, but what about tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week. The British policemen do not care about the life of one gypsy woman. They do not care if I live or die. They would send me back to Germany anyway," she paused and gazed deeply into Jones' eyes with her own, "and the Nazis do care if I live or die. They will kill me. They are afraid I will talk."
"OK, I understand," Jones said, and then stared out into the fog, lost in thought again.
"You can prove that your intentions were good Indiana Jones. You can prove that you came to help me and weren't associated with the killer...."
"They won't believe me Vadoma. There are only three people who know the truth, you, me, and our friendly Nazi assassin, and right about now none of us has too much credibility."
"They'll believe you if you find Richard Malboury."
Jones stopped gazing out into the fog and riveted his eyes on her, "You know where they've taken him?"
"Not exactly," she answered.
"What do you mean not exactly? Do you or don't you?"
"I know that they've taken him to Egypt. They will force him to help them...to find the..."
"The Sun Tablets."
"Yes."
"We knew that already," Jones said, "tell me who took him."
"It was SS men. They entered the country in secret, kidnapped Richard, and took him out all in the same day."
"How did they get him out of the country?"
"A night time rendezvous with a German submarine."
"What else do you know?" Jones asked her.
"I know that there's a German archaeological team and a small SS unit waiting near Luxor for his arrival."
"Luxor," Jones said to himself, and then spoke again to Vadoma, "How am I supposed to get to Luxor, find Malboury, and get him away from an SS goon squad, all the while being on Scotland Yard's ten most wanted list?"
"You are a very unique man Indiana Jones," Vadoma said cryptically while the hint of a smile played on her full lips. Then her smile faded and was replaced by a look of determination that shone from her dark sepia eyes, "and I will help you."
Jones sat back against the gunwale of the small river craft and immersed himself in thought again. The stillness of the river and the all encompassing whiteness of the fog around them produced an eerie silence, but a silence that lent itself to contemplation. Perhaps she was right, he thought. Perhaps the only thing he could do right now was to find Malboury himself. They'd listen to him then. Otherwise...
"How are we going to get out of England, never mind all the way to Egypt?" Jones asked, and then shook his head.
"I will help you Indiana Jones, whatever we must do we must do."
"We don't even have any money," Jones said, "we're not going to get very far," he gazed out again at the fog, "we might as well just turn ourselves in," he said dejectedly.
"No!" She said.
"Look, like I said before, I've got to call Marcus."
"Who is Marcus?"
"He's my friend."
Just then the small craft shuddered as if it had struck something and Vadoma was thrown forward. Jones caught her in his arms. The firm, gentle curves of her body pressed hard up against him as she sought to regain her balance.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be. It's not your fault. I think we've struck land," Jones replied.
Vadoma's dark hair brushed up against his face and Jones breathed in as he helped her back onto the short bench where she was sitting; her hair had a mysteriously fragrant redolence that Jones liked.
"We're beached," he said and helped her to her feet.
Jones took Vadoma by the hand and the two of them walked forward to where the front portion of the barge had apparently beached itself. They might have traveled twenty feet, or they might have traveled miles since untying the lines from the pier, there was no way to tell.
They stepped down from the beached barge onto a sandy stretch of river bank.
"Where are we?" Vadoma asked.
Jones looked around, "I don't know, but just stay with me."
He was no longer afraid that she would bolt on him. They were now in it together, and she knew that as well as he did.
They walked up the sandy bank and found a small set of stone steps. They climbed up and found themselves on a dark London street corner. Jones looked up and read the street signs. He took a few moments to think, and then he glanced at his watch again.
"I've got an idea. Come on, we've only got a few hours of darkness left, we've got to use them wisely."
Hand in hand they proceeded down the foggy London street.
On the Run
Indiana Jones slowly rose to his feet.
Vadoma stood up next to him.
"Keep your hands in the air where we can see them," the policeman said.
There were two policemen. One of them steadily held the flashlight beam on Indy and Vadoma while the second approached slowly to search them for weapons. Indiana Jones raised the only hand he could, his right, into the air and swallowed hard. It was going to be awfully hard to explain this one. He wasn't going to have to worry about the syllabuses for spring semester now he thought; instead he'd be spending spring semester in a British prison.
The policeman approached Vadoma and reached cautiously out toward her with one hand while the other held a pair of handcuffs. Jones glanced to his left and caught a glimpse of her eyes.
He saw it. He could read it in her eyes. In an instant he knew what she was going to do. And in a fraction of a second he made his own decision in his mind as to what he was going to do also.
The moment the policeman's hand touched Vadoma's arm she shouted at him, "Rikona!" Her leg then shot up with surprising speed and force. It caught the unprepared and unfortunate bobby between the legs, instantly dropping the man to the ground. Then she was off like a shot.
Indiana Jones had less than a second to finalize his own decision on what to do next. In that short span of time a multitude of thoughts jumbled through his mind, but chief among them was the fact that there wasn't really much MORE trouble he could be in than he was now already in.
The archaeologist lunged forward at the second policeman, knocking him to the ground and knocking the flashlight out of his hand. Then Jones was off, once again running after the fleeing gypsy woman.
He quickly caught up with her. But this time, instead of stopping her he grabbed hold of her hand and began pulling her along. Shouts from several voices could now be heard behind them as more policemen were converging on the scene.
Jones and Vadoma turned into a narrow alley. They passed through and came out on the other side on a street that ran parallel with the Thames River. The fog was thick here near the river's edge and Indy hoped that they could use that to their advantage. Jones then heard several whistles blow. Their pursuers were multiplying, and getting organized. It didn't look good for the pair of fugitives despite the darkness of night, and the London fog. They needed to find some place to hide, and quickly.
Jones pulled Vadoma along, she gripped tightly to his hand, trusting in the man who had saved her life, and was now risking his future to help her to get away from the policemen.
The pair descended a small sloping street that led right down to the Thames waterfront. There was a group of small warehouses positioned next to a large wharf with several river barges tied up. Indiana Jones made for the barges.
"Where can we go?" She asked anxiously.
"Just follow me, I've got an idea," Jones answered.
They ran down the wharf towards the river. Their footsteps were muffled by the dampness of the rotted timbers of the old pier. But at the same time they had to be careful of the many holes and broken boards that awaited the unwary step, and caused them to slow down.
The fog was very thick here; so thick that the barge tied up next to the pier could just barely be discerned until they were almost upon it.
"Get on," Jones held his hand up to assist Vadoma to get aboard the barge.
"Are you crazy Indiana Jones? What are you trying to do? They'll find us here."
"Just trust me!" He said to her and gestured for her to get aboard the small, fifteen meter long, river vessel.
There were actually three barges tied up together. Jones and Vadoma climbed aboard the first, and then crossed to the next one, and then finally to the furthest barge. Voices and whistles in the distance prompted them to move faster. Scotland Yard was gaining on them, and it sounded like they were on the right trail.
"Help me with these lines!" Jones called out to Vadoma as he struggled to release one of the lines fastening the barge with his one good hand.
She came over and helped him to untie the bow line and pull it aboard. Then, together they untied the stern line in the same fashion. Jones then pushed off with his hand, trying to move the small river craft out into the water and away from the pier area. Vadoma could see what he was trying to do now, and she also pushed with her hand. The progress was slow, but in a few moments they were away from the pier and drifting out into the river. The slow but inexorable current of the Thames eventually took hold. The small barge drifted out through the thick London fog and further towards the center of the river. To anyone viewing from the waterfront it was as if the craft had disappeared behind a thick white curtain.
Just seconds after the barge disappeared into the fog a group of Scotland Yard policemen ran down the pier. They searched around in all directions with their flashlights. They shined the beams out into the river itself but were only met with the glaring reflection of the impenetrable, dirty- white fog.
The slow drifting barge had left no wake, nor any trace.
"Search those barges!" A policeman said as he pointed to the remaining two vessels, "Search the warehouses! They've got to be here somewhere. There's nowhere else they could have gone. They can't have just disappeared!"
"Wait 'till I get me 'ands on that gypsy tart what kicked me in me family jewels!" Another of the policemen cursed.
But Indiana Jones and the woman could not hear the police on the pier. Not only did the heavy fog conceal him and Vadoma from view, it also acted as a filter, muffling out the sound of the pursuing policemen and the sound of their whistles.
They floated along silently. Indiana Jones sat without speaking; a tense expression of deep concentration on his face. Vadoma shivered slightly. The damp evening was growing colder as it progressed through the midnight hour. Indy noticed her shivering and pulled off his leather jacket. He draped it over her shoulders.
She stared for a long time into his eyes, her ruby lips curved into an appreciative smile. Then she looked away.
"What will we do now Indiana Jones? Where can we go?"
Jones just looked out into the suffocating whiteness all around them, "I don't know. For now I guess that's pretty much up to the river."
"We must leave this country. We must get out of England," she said.
Indiana Jones listened to her words and contemplated the magnitude of the mess that he had gotten himself into. He glanced at his pocket watch for a moment. Though just minutes old, 1938 wasn't turning out to be a very good year so far.
He looked down at the floorboards of the barge and shook his head, "I don't know. Give me a chance to think," he looked up and took a deep breath, getting a lung full of heavy London fog, "I've got to call Marcus."
"We must leave this place Indiana Jones!" She spoke forcefully.
"And go where?!" Jones replied, raising his voice.
"Away from here!" Vadoma gestured around with her hands.
"Maybe we'll float all the way to China!" He said exasperatedly, "I need time to think, please."
She nodded as Jones went back to his quiet contemplation.
"I'm in big trouble Vadoma. They think that I came to help you escape. The man who tried to kill you...he probably slipped away in all the commotion. So they don't know...they can't know that I just came to see you...that I didn't have anything to do with your...escape."
Then Jones looked directly at her, "Why did you run? If you hadn't run..."
She looked down, "I'm sorry Indiana Jones if I have gotten you into trouble," she said softly, "you came to help me, and you saved my life. But I had to get away from there. I was not safe there. You saw with your own eyes," her soft low voice reflected the gravity of her words, "tonight you saved my life, but what about tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week. The British policemen do not care about the life of one gypsy woman. They do not care if I live or die. They would send me back to Germany anyway," she paused and gazed deeply into Jones' eyes with her own, "and the Nazis do care if I live or die. They will kill me. They are afraid I will talk."
"OK, I understand," Jones said, and then stared out into the fog, lost in thought again.
"You can prove that your intentions were good Indiana Jones. You can prove that you came to help me and weren't associated with the killer...."
"They won't believe me Vadoma. There are only three people who know the truth, you, me, and our friendly Nazi assassin, and right about now none of us has too much credibility."
"They'll believe you if you find Richard Malboury."
Jones stopped gazing out into the fog and riveted his eyes on her, "You know where they've taken him?"
"Not exactly," she answered.
"What do you mean not exactly? Do you or don't you?"
"I know that they've taken him to Egypt. They will force him to help them...to find the..."
"The Sun Tablets."
"Yes."
"We knew that already," Jones said, "tell me who took him."
"It was SS men. They entered the country in secret, kidnapped Richard, and took him out all in the same day."
"How did they get him out of the country?"
"A night time rendezvous with a German submarine."
"What else do you know?" Jones asked her.
"I know that there's a German archaeological team and a small SS unit waiting near Luxor for his arrival."
"Luxor," Jones said to himself, and then spoke again to Vadoma, "How am I supposed to get to Luxor, find Malboury, and get him away from an SS goon squad, all the while being on Scotland Yard's ten most wanted list?"
"You are a very unique man Indiana Jones," Vadoma said cryptically while the hint of a smile played on her full lips. Then her smile faded and was replaced by a look of determination that shone from her dark sepia eyes, "and I will help you."
Jones sat back against the gunwale of the small river craft and immersed himself in thought again. The stillness of the river and the all encompassing whiteness of the fog around them produced an eerie silence, but a silence that lent itself to contemplation. Perhaps she was right, he thought. Perhaps the only thing he could do right now was to find Malboury himself. They'd listen to him then. Otherwise...
"How are we going to get out of England, never mind all the way to Egypt?" Jones asked, and then shook his head.
"I will help you Indiana Jones, whatever we must do we must do."
"We don't even have any money," Jones said, "we're not going to get very far," he gazed out again at the fog, "we might as well just turn ourselves in," he said dejectedly.
"No!" She said.
"Look, like I said before, I've got to call Marcus."
"Who is Marcus?"
"He's my friend."
Just then the small craft shuddered as if it had struck something and Vadoma was thrown forward. Jones caught her in his arms. The firm, gentle curves of her body pressed hard up against him as she sought to regain her balance.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be. It's not your fault. I think we've struck land," Jones replied.
Vadoma's dark hair brushed up against his face and Jones breathed in as he helped her back onto the short bench where she was sitting; her hair had a mysteriously fragrant redolence that Jones liked.
"We're beached," he said and helped her to her feet.
Jones took Vadoma by the hand and the two of them walked forward to where the front portion of the barge had apparently beached itself. They might have traveled twenty feet, or they might have traveled miles since untying the lines from the pier, there was no way to tell.
They stepped down from the beached barge onto a sandy stretch of river bank.
"Where are we?" Vadoma asked.
Jones looked around, "I don't know, but just stay with me."
He was no longer afraid that she would bolt on him. They were now in it together, and she knew that as well as he did.
They walked up the sandy bank and found a small set of stone steps. They climbed up and found themselves on a dark London street corner. Jones looked up and read the street signs. He took a few moments to think, and then he glanced at his watch again.
"I've got an idea. Come on, we've only got a few hours of darkness left, we've got to use them wisely."
Hand in hand they proceeded down the foggy London street.