"You've followed my orders thoroughly. I am pleased."
The German had something in his hand: an ivory rod about five feet in length. He passed it to Belloq, who fingered the inlaid carvings of the piece.
"Perfect," Belloq said. "The Ark has to be opened, in accordance with sacred rites, with an ivory rod. And the one who opens the Ark must wear these robes. You did very well."
The German smiled. "You will not forget our little arrangement."
"I promise," Belloq said. "When I return to Berlin I will personally speak to the Fuhrer about you in the highest possible terms."
"Thank you."
"Thank you," Belloq said.
The German regarded the robes a moment. "They suggest a certain Jewishness, don't they?"
"They should, my friend. They are Jewish."
"You will make yourself very popular around here with those things on."
"I am not interested in a popularity contest, Mohler."
Mohler watched as Belloq slipped the robes over his head, watched as the ornate brocade fell all around him. It was a total transformation: the man had even begun to look holy. Well, Mohler thought, it takes all sorts. Besides, even if he were mad, Belloq still had access to Hitler-and that was all that mattered.
"Is it dark outside?" Belloq asked. He felt peculiar, distanced from himself, as if his identity had begun to disintegrate and he'd become a stranger in a body that was only vaguely familiar.
"Soon," the German said.
"We must start at sunset. It's important."
"They have carried the Ark to the slab, as you wanted, Belloq."
"Good." He touched the robes, the upraised stitches in the material. Belloq-even his name seemed strange to him. It was as if something spiritual, immaterial, had begun to consume him. He was floating outside of himself, it seemed-a perception that had the intensity, as well as the vagueness, of a narcotic response.
He picked up the ivory rod and stepped outside of the tent.
Almost everywhere, the German soldiers stopped in their activities and turned to look at him. He faintly understood the vibrations of repulsion, the animosity directed to his robes. But once again this notion reached him across some great distance. Dietrich was walking at his side, saying something. And Belloq had to concentrate hard to understand.
"A Jewish ritual? Are you crazy, man?"
Belloq said nothing. He moved toward the foot of the ancient steps; the sun, an outrage of color as it waned, hung low in the distance, touching everything with a bewildering array of oranges and reds and yellows.
He moved to the first step, glancing briefly at the German soldiers around him. Klieg lights had been set up, illuminating the stairs, the Ark. Belloq was certain, as he looked at it, that he heard it humming. And he was almost sure that it began to emit a glow of some kind. But then something happened, something distracted him, pulled him back to earth; a movement, a shadow, he couldn't be sure. He swung around to see one of the soldiers behave in a strange fashion, moving in a hunched way. He wore his helmet at an awkward angle, as if he sought to conceal his face. But it wasn't just this that so distracted Belloq, it was a weird sense of familiarity.
What? How? He stared-realizing that the soldier was struggling under the weight of a grenade launcher, which he hadn't noticed at first in the dying light. But that strange sense, that itch-what did it mean? A darkness crossed his mind. A darkness that was lit only when the soldier removed his helmet and leveled the grenade launcher up the steps at the Ark-the Ark, which had been de-crated and looked vulnerable up on the slab.
"Hold it," Indy shouted. "One move from anybody and I blow that box back to Moses."
"Jones, your persistence surprises me. You are going to give mercenaries a bad name," Belloq said.
Dietrich interrupted. "Dr. Jones, surely you don't think you can escape from this island."
"That depends on how reasonable we're all willing to be. All I want is the girl. We'll keep possession of the Ark only until we've got safe transport to England. Then it's all yours."
"If we refuse?" Dietrich wanted to know. "Then the Ark and some of us are going up in a big bang. And I don't think Hitler would like that a bit."
Indy began to move toward Marion, who was struggling with her bonds.
"You look fine in a German outfit, Jones," Belloq said.
"You look pretty good in your robes too." But somebody else was moving now, approaching Indy from behind. And even as the girl began to scream in warning, Belloq recognized Mohler. The captain threw himself at Indy, knocking the weapon from his hand and bringing him to the ground. Jones -a gallant heart, Belloq thought, a reckless courage -lashed out at the soldier with his fist, then drove his knee upward in Mohler's groin. The captain groaned and rolled away, but Indy was already surrounded by soldiers, and although he fought them, although he fell kicking amid a bunch of helmets and jackboots, he was overpowered by numbers. Belloq shook his head and smiled in a pale way. He looked at Indy, who was being pinned by soldiers. "A good try, Jones. A good effort." And then Dietrich was coming through the ranks. "Foolish, very foolish," he said. "I cannot believe your recklessness."
"I'm trying to give it up," Indy said. He struggled with the soldiers who held him: useless.
"I have the cure for it," Dietrich said. He took his pistol from its holster, smiling.
Indy stared at the gun, then glanced at Marion, who had her eyes shut tight and was sobbing in a broken way.
Dietrich raised the pistol, aimed. "Wait!"
Belloq's voice was thunderous, awesome, and his face looked malign in the intense light of the klieg lamps. The gun in Dietrich's hand was lowered.
Belloq said, "This man has been an irritation to me for years, Colonel Dietrich. Sometimes, I admit, he has amused me. And although I would also like to witness his end, I would like him to suffer one last defeat. Let him live until I have opened the Ark. Let him live that long. Whatever treasures may lie in the Ark will be denied him. The contents will be hidden from his view. I enjoy the idea. This is a prize he has dreamed of for years-and now he will never get any closer to it. When I have opened the Ark, you can dispose of him. For now, I suggest you tie him up beside the girl." And Belloq laughed, a hollow laugh that echoed in the darkness.
Indy was dragged to the statue and bound against it, his shoulder to Marion's.
"I'm afraid, Indy," she said.
"There's never been a better time for it."
The Ark began to hum, and Indy turned to watch Belloq climb the steps to the altar. It galled him to think of Belloq's hands on the Ark, Belloq opening it. The prize. And he would see none of it. You live a lifetime with the constant ambition of reaching a goal, and then, when it's there, when it's in front of you, wham-all you have left is the bitter taste of defeat. How could he watch the insane Frenchman, dressed like some medieval rabbi, go up the steps to the Ark?
How could he not watch?
"I think we're going to die, Indy," Marion said. "Unless you've figured something out."
Indy, barely hearing her, said nothing: there was something else now, something that was beginning to intrude on his mind-the sound of humming, low and constant, that seemed to be emerging from the Ark. How could that be? He stared at Belloq as the robed figure climbed to the slab.
"So how do we get out of this?" Marion asked again.
"God knows."
"Is that a play on words?" she said.
"Maybe."
"It's a hell of a time to be making bad jokes, Jones." She turned to him; there were circles of fatigue under her eyes. "Still. I love you for it."