"It's simple, Jack," Indy said, his tone suddenly serious. "No one but you is to know that I've—that is, Professor Henry Jones—has been here tonight."
"I don't get it," Jack Shannon answered, as straight as Indy had spoken to him. "In the old days you were a fixture here every now and then. Something wrong, Indy? I mean, you've got to have a good reason for laying low like this."
Shannon thought of the past and chuckled. "But then again, you always had a good reason for anything you did. So what's the score, pal?"
Indy studied the man with whom he'd grown up in his Chicago days. "Jack, you still with the church?"
"What?"
"I mean, you always stayed with what your family felt was important. I don't remember you ever missed Sunday in church."
"I still don't miss it. Just like it always was. Why?"
"It could affect what I have to ask you."
"Only way to find out is to ask, Indy. But first, tell me: What did you do to Patterson?"
"Who?"
"The gorilla we keep at the front door. I've seen him take on a whole bunch of troublemakers and flatten the place.
You had him crying like a schoolgirl."
"Oh, that." Indy nodded. "Tiger Tears. It's a powder I had some chemists whip up for me. They put it in a capsule and you release it by biting down. Makes the eyes smart and tear. Your man won't see much before tomorrow, but he'll be fine after that."
"Thanks for telling me. I mean, Patterson's a pretty good guy. He never made it big in the ring and he works hard to protect us in here. Okay, that's all I'm going to ask you, Indy. The way you're talking I guess you're in town for a quick visit and then you're going to split, right?"
"Right."
"Same way you came in? Beard, limp, the old bum routine?"
Indy shook his head. "Uhuh. When I leave here I'll be a welldressed society heel, mustache, racing cap, the works.
You still have that private exit to the alley for your car?"
"Sure do."
"That's how I'll go, then. Want to give me a ride?"
"You got it. Now, look, Indy, you're not in trouble, are you? I know I asked you before, but, well, I'd do anything for you. You're the best friend I've got."
"Thanks, Jack. No, I'm not in trouble."
"You sure you've got to cut out? I mean, buddy, I could play you a couple of your favorite numbers, just for old times' sake, and that allnight joint is still open.
Ham, cabbage and beans, right, Indy? Just like we used to do."
"Just save those cornet numbers for me, Jack. Look, friend, I'm going to ask you for help. But it's not for me. Would it sound too corny for you if I said it was for your country?"
Shannon's eyes widened. "You a Gman, Indy?"
Indy laughed. "Nothing like that. I'd like to tell you more, but I can't. Maybe later but not now. You'll have to take my word for it."
"Okay; shoot."
"Your partners ran a newspaper delivery business. They still got their fleet of trucks?"
"Sure thing."
"Can you get them working if you call them in the middle of the night?"
"That's when they do most of their work, Indy."
"I need a bunch of them, Jack. Not tonight, so there's plenty of time."
"Where you want them?"
"Milledgeville."
"What's Milledgeville? Sounds like a home for midgets."
Indy smiled. "Not quite. It's a town about ninety miles west of here. Bunch of small towns in that area. Polo, Oregon, Chadwick, and Milledgeville. There's a rail line that runs right down a valley where they're located."
"Maybe you'll tell me why later. How many of my people do you need?"
"Enough to bring a train to a stop and hold it up tomorrow night."
Shannon's jaw dropped. For several moments he could hardly speak. Then he burst out laughing. "I thought this was on the level! What'd you do, Indy? Join up with Jesse James and his gang?"
Indy shared his laughter. "No. But it is on the level. It's a special job, Jack.
Like I said, it's for your country."
"If I was hearing this from anybody else I'd . . ." Shannon shook his head.
"Okay, Indy. I trust you.
What's in that train?"
"Gold. Artifacts. Some stuff like that."
"What are you after?"
"We don't care about the gold."
"Well, that's different. What happens with the gold after it's lifted? I got a hunch you'll be picking that up, too."
"You're right. But I want the gold returned."
Shannon's eyes narrowed. "So there's some sort of, uh, well, something you're after. I got to ask you this, Indy. Will you be keeping it?"
"Only for a little while."
"This is crazy. I suppose next you'll tell me nobody gets hurt in this caper."
"That's right."
Shannon sighed. "I got the right people for this. Okay. I guess you're after one car in particular. Will you have it marked for us?"
"I'll leave all the details with you."
"What about guards?"
"A detail. I don't mind noise and shooting, but nobody needs to get hurt. And I want you to use some special equipment."
"Okay. In for a dime, in for a dollar."
An hour later they were through. "Where do you need to go now?" Shannon asked.
"Farmhouse. Isolated. Twenty miles south of Dubuque, maybe a hundred miles from here."
"I know it."
"We'll need to stop at the bus station downtown. My stuff is in a locker there."
"Okay."
"I really appreciate this, Jack."
"I'll appreciate it myself when you tell me what's really going on, Indy."
Shannon held up a hand. "Okay, okay. I'll wait."
Indy clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll lay it all out for you one day. In the meantime—" He reached into his pocket and withdrew a leather bag. "Make absolutely sure this is with the take tomorrow night. Put it in the lift sack."
Shannon took the bag. "Do I look?"
"I'd prefer you didn't."
Shannon shrugged. "What's it worth?"
"Oh, a zillion bucks or so."
"When'd you become a comic, Indy?"
Three hours later the team heard the powerful car approaching along the river road leading to the farmhouse. Gale looked out between window drapes. "Looks like a limousine," she told the others.
"How many?" Tarkiz barked.
"I see only one set of headlights," she answered. "Douse the lights in here so I can—"
Rene Foulois had the lights off before she finished her sentence. "It still looks like just one. The car's stopping. One man is out from the passenger side. He's coming around to stand in front of the headlights."