26
Channel Crossing
The early morning sun of the very first day of 1938 found Indiana Jones leaning on the rail of the cross channel ferry boat "Channel Mistress", and gazing out across rolling green waves. Actually there was no real sun. The warm, wet, winter front that had passed through London the previous evening had moved east along with the two fugitives.
Vadoma stood next to him in the early morning mist and drizzle. Neither of them was feeling too well. The pitching and rolling of the ferry was both slow and drearily regular; and neither of them had slept at all the previous night.
They had driven through the night from London to Dover and gotten aboard the ferry at dawn. Jones knew that it was crucial to get out of the country as quickly as possible, before Scotland Yard could organize their resources to stop them. They had succeeded, and now the green and brown coastline of France began to appear through the haze in front of them.
He had left behind a brief note, and a generous amount of money in the Aston Martin roadster; enough to compensate the owner for the broken fly window and plenty more. Indiana Jones was not a man to take without giving back.
Vadoma wore Jones' leather jacket. She shielded her face from the increasing wind and spoke to him, "What are we going to do next?" She asked the simple question.
Jones felt the first drops of a new rain squall, "Why don't we go back inside," he said.
They went back inside the large sheltered lounge area of the ferry boat where most of the passengers preferred to be on this raw morning. Jones selected an out of the way corner bench and they sat down.
Vadoma appeared troubled.
So was Jones. He kept hoping that he would wake up to find that all of the recent events had been nothing but a long, bad dream. But as he gazed around at his surroundings, and the rolling deck of the ferry, the reality of the situation showed itself starkly.
He looked over at Vadoma again. She was very beautiful, he thought. Despite being somewhat disheveled by the lack of sleep and the events of the previous evening her striking, natural beauty shone through like the sparkle of a flawless gem. But was she anything more than just a beautiful reminder of the enormous mess that he was in?
But Jones was beginning to shake off the last of his melancholy and worry. He'd decided that despite the difficult position he was in, moping and worrying wasn't going to do him any good. Indiana Jones was by nature a man of action, and the sooner he put a plan of action together the better.
He'd decided that indeed the only way out of this quandary would be to try to locate the missing Egyptologist Richard Malboury himself and return him safely to England. Then he could clear up the mess with Scotland Yard and Vadoma's escape. It was a tall order, but there really wasn't any other choice for him now.
But he knew also that he would need Vadoma to verify what had really happened, and she would need to come clean about her involvement with the Nazis. Jones believed that they would be lenient and forgiving with her once they knew the whole story, especially if she helped him find Malboury. But they wouldn't even listen unless Indiana Jones could produce Malboury.....alive.
"Indiana Jones I must tell you..." Vadoma started to say something but then stopped. Her eyes reflected turmoil in her heart.
Jones stared at her for a moment, "Yes? Tell me what Vadoma?"
Her eyes began to water and tears began to brim in her pretty dark eyes.
"What is it?" Jones spoke softly to her.
She looked down, and then back up at him, "It is my sister," she said finally.
Now it was Jones' turn to look down; and he didn't know what to say.
"I must go and help her," Vadoma said with a sob.
"But you can't Vadoma. It's far too dangerous. You know that."
She continued to sob softly for a few moments and then sniffed hard, stopping her tears with a stoic abruptness.
Indiana Jones knew in his heart that it didn't look very good for Vadoma's sister Pesha in Germany. The Nazis had already tried to kill Vadoma in England to keep her quiet. There was every reason to believe that they had already done away with her poor sister, or worse. The Nazis discarded people who they had no further use for. Sadly it was probably too late for Pesha. Jones could only hope that they could reach Malboury in time.
The archaeologist reached out and took the beautiful gypsy woman's hand in his own and looked sternly but kindly into her eyes, "Listen Vadoma, I know it's difficult for you....but you've got to understand that...there might not be anything that you can do for Pesha."
"What are you saying Indiana Jones? That I should just leave my sister to...to...?"
Her eyes filled with tears again and she began to sob. She threw her arms around Indy's neck and buried her face in his chest.
Jones placed his arm around her slim waist. He gripped the small of her back and then ran his hand under the leather jacket, rubbing up her back to her shoulder blades. He pulled her close, and then closer. Gently he stroked her redolent, dark hair; substituting tender caresses for elusive words of comfort.
As Jones held the woman close and felt her heart beat mere inches from his own he could almost feel the unbreakable blood bond that she felt for her sister; and the grief at thoughts of what may have happened to her at the hands of the Gestapo.
Indiana Jones didn't know how long they stayed like that, holding tightly to one another. From sheer exhaustion Vadoma had fallen asleep with her head cradled on his chest, and Jones had also dozed off. The sounds and commotion as the ferry prepared to dock awakened them.
Jones stood up and helped Vadoma to her feet, "Come on, we're almost moored."
The pair walked out on to the open passenger deck of the ferry and watched as the last of the lines were made fast to the pier. The weather had cleared somewhat and there was even a hint of sun here and there through the clouds.
They descended down to the main deck where the gangway was being put across. A few moments later cars and people were exiting the ferry and making their way down the pier. Jones and Vadoma walked across the gangway and stepped on to the soil of Continental Europe. Well, not exactly, they had to make it down the length of the pier to the road first.
Then Indiana Jones suddenly froze.
At the end of the pier there was a gate, and standing on the other side of the gate checking everyone who exited the ferry was a group of gendarmes; French policemen. It was apparent from the way they observed and checked everyone passing through the gate that they were looking for someone specific. Indiana Jones' nose told him that they were looking for him and Vadoma.
"What's wrong Indy?" Vadoma asked when she saw that Jones had stopped. Then she followed his gaze down the pier to the gate, and the gendarmes.
"They're waiting for us," Jones said, "Scotland Yard must have cabled ahead. They know we were on the ferry."
"What shall we do?" Vadoma asked nervously.
"I don't know," Jones answered in a steely voice, "but we're not going that way," he turned back towards the moored ferry boat, "come on," he said.
Vadoma followed him, but her face showed her confusion, "We can't go back there Indy. We can't go back to England."
Indiana Jones turned to her, "Who says we're going back to England?"
He led her by the hand back towards the ferry boat. They made their way through the now tapering stream of people and proceeded along the pier towards the stern area of the ferry. Jones walked over to the edge of the pier next to where one of the breast lines was secured to a large bollard and looked down.
Vadoma turned and gazed anxiously up the pier towards the gate, and the gendarmes in the distance for a few moments.
When she turned back around, Indiana Jones had disappeared.
Channel Crossing
The early morning sun of the very first day of 1938 found Indiana Jones leaning on the rail of the cross channel ferry boat "Channel Mistress", and gazing out across rolling green waves. Actually there was no real sun. The warm, wet, winter front that had passed through London the previous evening had moved east along with the two fugitives.
Vadoma stood next to him in the early morning mist and drizzle. Neither of them was feeling too well. The pitching and rolling of the ferry was both slow and drearily regular; and neither of them had slept at all the previous night.
They had driven through the night from London to Dover and gotten aboard the ferry at dawn. Jones knew that it was crucial to get out of the country as quickly as possible, before Scotland Yard could organize their resources to stop them. They had succeeded, and now the green and brown coastline of France began to appear through the haze in front of them.
He had left behind a brief note, and a generous amount of money in the Aston Martin roadster; enough to compensate the owner for the broken fly window and plenty more. Indiana Jones was not a man to take without giving back.
Vadoma wore Jones' leather jacket. She shielded her face from the increasing wind and spoke to him, "What are we going to do next?" She asked the simple question.
Jones felt the first drops of a new rain squall, "Why don't we go back inside," he said.
They went back inside the large sheltered lounge area of the ferry boat where most of the passengers preferred to be on this raw morning. Jones selected an out of the way corner bench and they sat down.
Vadoma appeared troubled.
So was Jones. He kept hoping that he would wake up to find that all of the recent events had been nothing but a long, bad dream. But as he gazed around at his surroundings, and the rolling deck of the ferry, the reality of the situation showed itself starkly.
He looked over at Vadoma again. She was very beautiful, he thought. Despite being somewhat disheveled by the lack of sleep and the events of the previous evening her striking, natural beauty shone through like the sparkle of a flawless gem. But was she anything more than just a beautiful reminder of the enormous mess that he was in?
But Jones was beginning to shake off the last of his melancholy and worry. He'd decided that despite the difficult position he was in, moping and worrying wasn't going to do him any good. Indiana Jones was by nature a man of action, and the sooner he put a plan of action together the better.
He'd decided that indeed the only way out of this quandary would be to try to locate the missing Egyptologist Richard Malboury himself and return him safely to England. Then he could clear up the mess with Scotland Yard and Vadoma's escape. It was a tall order, but there really wasn't any other choice for him now.
But he knew also that he would need Vadoma to verify what had really happened, and she would need to come clean about her involvement with the Nazis. Jones believed that they would be lenient and forgiving with her once they knew the whole story, especially if she helped him find Malboury. But they wouldn't even listen unless Indiana Jones could produce Malboury.....alive.
"Indiana Jones I must tell you..." Vadoma started to say something but then stopped. Her eyes reflected turmoil in her heart.
Jones stared at her for a moment, "Yes? Tell me what Vadoma?"
Her eyes began to water and tears began to brim in her pretty dark eyes.
"What is it?" Jones spoke softly to her.
She looked down, and then back up at him, "It is my sister," she said finally.
Now it was Jones' turn to look down; and he didn't know what to say.
"I must go and help her," Vadoma said with a sob.
"But you can't Vadoma. It's far too dangerous. You know that."
She continued to sob softly for a few moments and then sniffed hard, stopping her tears with a stoic abruptness.
Indiana Jones knew in his heart that it didn't look very good for Vadoma's sister Pesha in Germany. The Nazis had already tried to kill Vadoma in England to keep her quiet. There was every reason to believe that they had already done away with her poor sister, or worse. The Nazis discarded people who they had no further use for. Sadly it was probably too late for Pesha. Jones could only hope that they could reach Malboury in time.
The archaeologist reached out and took the beautiful gypsy woman's hand in his own and looked sternly but kindly into her eyes, "Listen Vadoma, I know it's difficult for you....but you've got to understand that...there might not be anything that you can do for Pesha."
"What are you saying Indiana Jones? That I should just leave my sister to...to...?"
Her eyes filled with tears again and she began to sob. She threw her arms around Indy's neck and buried her face in his chest.
Jones placed his arm around her slim waist. He gripped the small of her back and then ran his hand under the leather jacket, rubbing up her back to her shoulder blades. He pulled her close, and then closer. Gently he stroked her redolent, dark hair; substituting tender caresses for elusive words of comfort.
As Jones held the woman close and felt her heart beat mere inches from his own he could almost feel the unbreakable blood bond that she felt for her sister; and the grief at thoughts of what may have happened to her at the hands of the Gestapo.
Indiana Jones didn't know how long they stayed like that, holding tightly to one another. From sheer exhaustion Vadoma had fallen asleep with her head cradled on his chest, and Jones had also dozed off. The sounds and commotion as the ferry prepared to dock awakened them.
Jones stood up and helped Vadoma to her feet, "Come on, we're almost moored."
The pair walked out on to the open passenger deck of the ferry and watched as the last of the lines were made fast to the pier. The weather had cleared somewhat and there was even a hint of sun here and there through the clouds.
They descended down to the main deck where the gangway was being put across. A few moments later cars and people were exiting the ferry and making their way down the pier. Jones and Vadoma walked across the gangway and stepped on to the soil of Continental Europe. Well, not exactly, they had to make it down the length of the pier to the road first.
Then Indiana Jones suddenly froze.
At the end of the pier there was a gate, and standing on the other side of the gate checking everyone who exited the ferry was a group of gendarmes; French policemen. It was apparent from the way they observed and checked everyone passing through the gate that they were looking for someone specific. Indiana Jones' nose told him that they were looking for him and Vadoma.
"What's wrong Indy?" Vadoma asked when she saw that Jones had stopped. Then she followed his gaze down the pier to the gate, and the gendarmes.
"They're waiting for us," Jones said, "Scotland Yard must have cabled ahead. They know we were on the ferry."
"What shall we do?" Vadoma asked nervously.
"I don't know," Jones answered in a steely voice, "but we're not going that way," he turned back towards the moored ferry boat, "come on," he said.
Vadoma followed him, but her face showed her confusion, "We can't go back there Indy. We can't go back to England."
Indiana Jones turned to her, "Who says we're going back to England?"
He led her by the hand back towards the ferry boat. They made their way through the now tapering stream of people and proceeded along the pier towards the stern area of the ferry. Jones walked over to the edge of the pier next to where one of the breast lines was secured to a large bollard and looked down.
Vadoma turned and gazed anxiously up the pier towards the gate, and the gendarmes in the distance for a few moments.
When she turned back around, Indiana Jones had disappeared.