"You could say the same about making war."
"In the current situation," he said, referring to the invasion of Turkey, "I agree wholeheartedly. But we must never eliminate our army. We would be a weak, ineffec tive people. Greeks must never again be held in subjugation."
"You don't have to lecture to me, Alex, especially not at this hour of the morning."
"Something's bothering you. What is it?"
She told him about the trouble she had encountered on the train.
He nodded and spoke in a firm, even voice. "You did
the right thing. But I warned you that Farnsworth might be trouble. I should've placed someone on the train with you."
She smiled up at him. "I can handle myself quite well."
"So it seems. Then there is no problem."
"I'm not finished. I think there are two others working with Farnsworth." She told him about the men who had chased them at the Acropolis.
A frown burrowed deep between his dark eyes. He shook his head. "They sound like amateurs."
"Thank God. I was vulnerable. I didn't get a good look at either of them, but Jones did." She described the men as best she could.
"I'll see what I can find out, and I'll assign a guard to your truck."
"That's not necessary."
"Please, let me decide what is necessary for your pro tection." He smiled, and took her hand. "Now I want to tell you what I have in mind for Delphi."
When she pushed the bicycle toward the street a few minutes later, peach and pale yellow edged the sky.
The quiet of dawn was over, and the ancient forum was waking as people trickled out of the huts. It's going to be a long day, she thought.
Indy ran through the Acropolis, arms pumping at his sides, legs blurring beneath him, his breath coming in quick, sharp bursts. He could hear the men behind him, their shoes pounding the pavement, their shouts slapping the air. His head snapped around. They were rapidly closing in on him, but he couldn't run any faster; his legs wouldn't cooperate. Panic clawed at his throat.
One of the men suddenly lurched ahead of the other and slammed a bottle of retsina over his head. He knew it should have hurt, that a white-hot pain should have flashed through his skull. But the only thing he felt was an intense reverbera tion that echoed in his head and sounded like a horn.
"Wake up, Indy."
He opened his eyes and winced at the bright, cruel light. "Oh, God," he moaned. The blast of a horn outside their window hammered against the inside of his head. "What the hell's going on out there?"
"That's our ride to Delphi. Hurry up and get ready. But drink this first."
He sat up in bed, rubbed his face, and saw that Dorian was already dressed. She handed him a coffee as thick as syrup in a cup not much larger than a thimble.
"No ouzo in it, I hope." At dinner they had finished the retsina and after the meal had sampled another Greek invention, a liqueur that reminded Indy of the Pernod he drank on occasion in Paris. His head now pounded with the after effects of the combination.
"Not a drop. I promise."
He grimaced when the horn sounded again, but a few minutes later he was dressed and ready to leave. He reached under the bed for his bag, but couldn't feel it. He crouched lower, spotted the bag—and something else. He stretched his arm, patting the floor, and pulled out a boot. Its mate was behind it, and they looked like military issue.
"Indy, let's..." Dorian stopped in the doorway. "What're you doing?"
"I was just getting my bag." He dropped the boot, and looked at her.
"In case you're wondering, it belongs to my housekeep er's son. He died in Turkey. I'll be waiting outside." She turned away.
Indy kicked the boot under the bed, and grabbed his bag. Funny place to keep a dead soldier's boots, he thought. When he stepped outside, two men with rifles were standing in the back of the truck. As he climbed into the front seat next to Dorian, he asked who they were.
"Guards."
"Expecting trouble?"
"Just being prepared."
Within minutes, they were bouncing over a gravel road as they headed into the hills outside of the city.
The springs on the truck were in poor condition, and each bounce jarred Indy's head.
The truck's engine roared whenever they accelerated, making conversation difficult. "This road. . ." he heard Dorian say, and saw her lips moving, but he couldn't hear anything else.
"What?"
"This road ... of Oedipus."
He frowned, shook his head. What possible connection could there be between the road and Oedipus?
Dorian leaned over and shouted. "This road we are driving on hasn't changed much since the time of Oedipus."
He believed it.
Dorian gave up on conversation and Indy stared out at the gray, stony hills and pines. It seemed that every day since they'd left Paris, the trip had assumed a new dimen sion. First, his relationship with Dorian had shifted dra matically. Then he'd discovered that she might be persona non grata in her own country.
The idea that he could be getting caught up in political machinations that he didn't comprehend disturbed him. She had said they should be open with each other, but she apparently was open only when it was opportune.
Now, he was starting to understand Conrad's suspicions about Dorian. Even Shannon, who hadn't even met her, was right about one thing. Traveling with Dorian was an adventure, and he had the feeling he hadn't seen the end of it. Hell, they hadn't even reached Delphi yet.
But he'd wanted a challenge, and maybe even some danger. That was what adventure was about, after all. But he also wanted to stay alive. No doubt about that.
Every so often he glanced back to see if they were being followed. But there were only clouds of dust, spewing
from under the wheels of the truck. Dorian finally leaned close to him. "Would you stop worrying? We've got two guards with us. If there's any problem, they'll handle it."
He nodded, slid down in his seat and closed his eyes. Soon the drone of the engine lulled him to sleep.
He dozed, was jolted awake, dozed again, a rhythm as pre dictable as the tick of a clock. By early afternoon, they climbed the lower slopes of Mount Parnassos, and his anticipation increased with the altitude.
"Almost there," Dorian said, gazing through the wind shield at the mountain peak.
Indy touched her thigh; she nudged it away. "We have to act professionally while we're at the ruins.
Here, you're my student, that is all. Do you understand?"
Her expression was hard, cast in stone. Indy gave a quick, nervous laugh. "Oh, c'mon, you afraid of a scandal because I'm younger than you?"
"This isn't funny, Jones, and age has nothing to do with it. It just doesn't look right for a professor to be sleeping with her student."
Look right to whom? But he didn't ask. He suddenly wanted to tell her that he'd never experienced anything like their lovemaking. It was more than mere sexual passion. It was the fulfillment of his longing for a woman who was different from the others he'd known. Yet, he wanted her more than ever. She was as seductive and enigmatic as the mystery of Delphi itself, and he needed her. But he didn't say anything of this, either. He was afraid she would laugh, that she'd call him her sweet student of love or something equally humiliating.
"There." She pointed. "See it?"
Indy leaned forward and saw a mountain terrace that seemed to literally hang in space, in a pocket between ominous craggy peaks. It looked small and insignificant compared to the mountain.
Dorian told the driver to stop for a minute. They got out and gazed up at Delphi.
"I guess I was expecting it would be larger," he said.
"Its size had nothing to do with its importance. Think of it, Indy. For a thousand years, kings and statesmen, military leaders and merchants, climbed the sides of this mountain, bearing questions for the oracle."