He closed his eyes.
Even now the memory filled him with bitterness.
Belloqhad been there before him.
Belloqhad excavated the place.
It was true the Frenchman had found little of historic significance in the excavations, but that wasn't the point.
The point was that Belloq had stolen from him again. And again he wasn't sure how he could prove the theft.
And now the idol.
Indy looked up, startled out of his reverie, as the door of his office opened slowly.
Marcus Brody appeared, an expression of caution on his face, a caution that was in part concern. Indy considered Marcus, curator of the National Museum, his closest friend.
"Indiana," he said and his voice was soft.
He held the replica of the idol out, as if he were offering it to the other man, then he dropped it abruptly in the trash can on the floor.
"I had the real thing in my hand, Marcus. The real thing." Indy sat back, eyes shut, fingers vigorously massaging his eyelids.
"You told me, Indiana. You already told me," Brody said. "As soon as you came back. Remember?"
"I can get it back, Marcus. I can get it back. I figured it out. Belloq has to sell it, right? So where's he going to sell it? Huh?" - Brody looked tolerantly at him. "Where, Indiana?"
"Marrakesh. Marrakesh, that's where." Indy got up, indicating various figures that were on the desk. These were the items he'd taken from the Temple, the bits and pieces he'd swept up quickly. "Look. They've got to be worth something, Marcus. They've got to be worth enough money to get me to, Marrakesh, right?"
Brody barely glanced at the items. Instead, he put out his hand and laid it on Indy's shoulder, a touch of friendship and concern. "The museum will buy them, as usual. No questions asked. But we'll talk about the idol later. Right now I want you to meet some people. They've come a long way to see you, Indiana."
"What people?"
Brody said, "They've come from Washington, Indiana. Just to see you."
"Who are they?" Indy asked wanly.
"Army Intelligence."
"Army what?Am I in some kind of trouble?"
"No. Quite the opposite, it would seem. They appear to need your help,"
"The only help I'm interested in is getting the cash together for Marrakesh, Marcus. These things have to be worth something."
"Later, Indiana. Later. First I want you to see these people."
Indy paused by the wall map of South America. "Yeah," he said. "I'll see them. I'll see them, if it means so much to you."
"They're waiting in the lecture hall."
They moved into the corridor.
A pretty young girl appeared in front of Indy. She was carrying a bundle of books and was pretending to look studious, efficient. Indy brightened when he saw her.
"Professor Jones," she was saying.
"Uh-"
"I was hoping we could have a conference," she said shyly, glancing at Marcus Brody.
"Yeah, sure, sure, Susan, I know I said we'd talk."
Marcus Brody said, "Not now. Not now, Indiana." And he turned to the girl. "Professor Jones has an important conference to attend, my dear. Why don't you call him later?"
"Yeah," Indy mumbled. "I'll be back at noon."
The girl smiled in a disappointed way, then drifted off along the corridor. Indy watched her go, admiring her legs, the roundness of the calves, the slender ankles. He felt Brody tug at his sleeve.
"Pretty. Up to your usual standards, Indiana. But later. Okay?"
"Later," Indy said, looking reluctantly away from the girl.
Brody pushed open the door of the lecture hall. Seated near the podium were two uniformed Army officers. They turned their faces in unison as the door opened.
"If this is the draft board, I've already served," Indy said.
Marcus Brody ushered Indy to a chair on the podium. "Indiana, I'd like to introduce you to Colonel Musgrove and Major Eaton. These are the people who've come from Washington to see you."
Eaton said, "Good to meet you. We've heard a lot about you, Professor Jones. Doctor of Archaeology, expert on the occult, obtainer of rare antiquities."
"That's one way to put it," Indy said.
"The 'obtainer of rare antiquities' sounds intriguing," the major said.
Indy glanced at Brody, who said, "I'm sure everything Professor Jones does for our museum here confirms strictly to the guidelines of the International Treaty for the Protection of Antiquities."
"Oh, I'm sure," Major Eaton said.
Musgrove said, "You're a man of many talents, Professor."
Indy made a dismissive gesture, waving a hand. What did these guys want?
Major Eaton said, "I understand you studied under Professor Ravenwood at the University of Chicago?"
"Yes."
"Have you any idea of his present whereabouts?"
Ravenwood. The name threw memories back with a kind of violence Indy didn't like. "Rumors, nothing more. I heard he was in Asia, I guess. I don't know."
"We understood you were pretty close to him," Musgrove said.
"Yeah." Indy rubbed his chin. "We were friends . . . We haven't spoken in years, though. I'm afraid we had what you might call a falling out." A falling out, he thought. There was a polite way to put it. A falling out-it was more like a total collapse. And then he was thinking of Marion, an unwanted memory, something he had yet to excavate from the deeper strata of his mind. Marion Ravenwood, the girl with the wonderful eyes.
Now the officers were whispering together, deciding something. Then Eaton turned and looked solemn and said, "What we're going to tell you has to remain confidential."
"Sure," Indy said. Ravenwood-where did the old man fit in all this fragile conundrum? And when was somebody going to get to the point?
Musgrove said, "Yesterday, one of our European stations intercepted a German communique sent from Cairo to Berlin. The news in it was obviously exciting to the German agents in Egypt." Musgrove looked at Eaton, waiting for him to continue the narrative, as if each was capable of delivering only a certain amount of information at any one time.
Eaton said, "I'm not sure if I'm telling you something you already know, Professor Jones, when I mention the fact that the Nazis have had teams of archaeologists running around the world for the last two years-"
"It hasn't escaped my attention."
"Sure. They appear to be on a frantic search for any kind of religious artifact they can get. Hitler, according to our intelligence reports, is obsessed with the occult. We understand he even has a personal soothsayer, if that's the word. And right now it seems that some kind of archaeological dig-highly secretive- is going on in the desert outside Cairo."
Indy nodded. This was sending him to sleep. He knew of Hitler's seemingly endless concern with divining the future, making gold out of lead, hunting the elixir, whatever. You name it, he thought, and if it's weird enough, then the crazy little man with the mustache is sure to be interested in it.
Indy watched Musgrove take a sheet from his briefcase. He held it a moment, then he said, "This communique contains some information concerning the activity in the desert, but we don't know what to make of it. We thought it might mean something to you." And he passed the sheet to Indy. The message said:
TANIS DEVELOPMENT PROCEEDING.
ACQUIRE HEADPIECE, STAFF OF RA, ABNER
RAVENWOOD, US.
He read the words again, his mind suddenly clear, suddenly sharp. He stood up, looked at Brody and said, incredulously, "The Nazis have discovered Tanis."
Brody's face was grim and pale.
Eaton said, "Sorry. You've just lost me. What does Tanis mean to you?"