It became known as the Pueblo in the Sky." "Sky City," Gale said softly.
"And it is a natural, powerful fortification, with huge caverns and cave areas big enough to hold half a dozen of those airships. Throughout their history the Acoma Indians defended their territory with a savagery given special notice by the Spaniards when they were moving through those lands in their early conquests north of Mexico. When they reached Acoma—which in various linguistic derivatives means
'the place that always was'—they ran into some very nasty people defending their sacred mesas."
Indy leaned back and stretched his legs. "I recall reading the reports of a Spanish expedition leader, Captain Hernando de Alvarado. Back in 1540, Coronado sent him to learn the truth about this great place they'd heard about.
Alvarado was amazed to see the city hundreds of feet above them, the entrances narrow and so well fortified that an attack seemed impossible. In fact, his official report to Coronado stated flatly that Acoma was the most impregnable stronghold he had ever seen. He called it
completely inaccessible, and reported there were more than six to eight thousand Indians living atop the mesa, all of them quite capable of standing off any force the Spaniards might have assembled."
Indy rubbed his chin, searching his memory for details. "That's enough of the history, but it lets you know that Acoma is absolutely the perfect operational base for their airship. The local Indians—and the countryside has at least a dozen different tribes—have always believed they had a special connection to heaven. There was a specific event, um, I believe it was the fall of 1846. By now the Spaniards, of course, were gone, and the American army was doing everything it could to control the Indians. This one moment in their history, well, it certainly reinforced the Indians'
beliefs. An American cavalry force was camped about a mile from the sheer cliffs of Acoma, and on this night a tremendous meteor came blasting out of space. In fact, it was so bright it turned the night into day. And it didn't come down. It tore across the sky, level with the horizon, lit up the world, and, apparently, rushed back out into space again."
"Atmospheric skip," Henshaw said. "It happens sometimes. It makes a believer out of you."
"Well, it's my bet," Indy said firmly, "and I'll stake my reputation on it, that's where we'll find that airship. And if they have a real handle on what's happening, then they absolutely must realize things are starting to come unglued with their program."
Indy showed his concern. "The way these people have been operating, they've got to make a very serious move.
Which means they could well decide to destroy even an entire city if they wanted to."
"Destroy a whole city?" Gale showed confusion, even resistance to Indy's statement. "How could they do that?
One airship, even a dozen, couldn't carry enough bombs to—"
"Indy's right," Henshaw broke in. "They wouldn't bother with bombs, Gale.
Too heavy, clumsy. They'd make a lot of noise and fire and kill a few hundred people, perhaps, even wound a few thousand more, but that's nothing on the scale of war."
Henshaw shook his head. "We run what we call 'war games' on matters like this.
Like, what would we do if we were in their place?" "What would you do?"
Gale pushed. "If my intention was terror and killing on a huge scale, any one of several things or, more likely, a combination of them all. First, either from the air or from the ground you can poison the water supply of a major city. If your poison is slowacting, then enough time passes so that most of the people in your city would have absorbed fatal doses even before the poison starts to kill.
Nerve paralysis, respiratory problems; that sort of thing. Then there are biological agents. It's not well known but at least four countries have already developed a mutation of anthrax that devastates people exposed to it. It could be sprayed from either the airship or those devilish saucers they've got. You wouldn't need great amounts, in terms of weight, that is. England, France, Germany, Russia, the United States, we were all getting into the biological agents game. Nasty and brutish, I'll admit—"
"Horrible, you mean," Gale said with heat.
"No worse, young lady, than an incendiary bullet in the gut, let me assure you," Henshaw said coldly. "Or being in the direct line of impact from a flamethrower."
"My God," Gale said, very quietly.
"Harry's right," Indy added. "And then there's poison gas. Back in the Great War they had lewisite, mustard, phosgene. Other types were being developed. Tens of thousands of soldiers died from gas attacks. Maybe they were the lucky ones.
Tens of t h o u s a n d s more became blind or went mad or were crippled by gas."
"And an unexpecting city doesn't have any protection against that,"
Henshaw said emphatically. "No, I'm afraid Indy's right on target about these people.
We've sent their carrier ship to the bottom, so they know we're ready to make a stand against them. We attacked their airship— rather futilely, I admit—but those British boys certainly went at it with everything they had. Now the hunt is on, and the sooner we find that airship and knock it out, the faster they'll lose the advantages of emotion and fear stirred up by those saucers and the airship itself."
"I haven't heard either one of you say what I've been afraid you might say,"
Gale told them. "Spell that out," Indy replied.
"If they can attack one city," she said slowly, "why wouldn't they attack several, or even many cities?"
"Oh, they could," Henshaw said quickly. "But mass destruction isn't the name of their game. It's fear. Mind control. Change the way people think and you can control them. If they believe in their gods, there are gods. If they believe they're helpless—"
"Then they'll be helpless," Indy finished for him. "So the sooner we find that airship . . . " He let the rest speak for itself.
They felt the Ford lurch from side to side. That brought their attention to the moment, to where they were, flying across the North Atlantic to cross by the Faeroe Islands on their way to Iceland. Turbulence increased with every passing moment, and they saw Foulois working his way back from the cockpit.
"Why we ever bothered to give you people intercom headsets is a mystery,"
Foulois said. "We've been shouting at you for ten minutes!" "What's up?" Henshaw asked. From the look on his face as he felt the trembling and shaking motions of the airplane, he didn't need the Frenchman to tell him anything.
"We've got to work our way through a front," Foulois said. "We're into it now." He nodded to the cabin windows, and they saw the rain streaking the glass.
"It's going to be a bit bumpy," Foulois went on. "Better strap in, put away any loose stuff."
"Frenchy, I'll take your seat for a while, okay?" Henshaw said. "You can have some food and coffee—" "I realize you meant wine, didn't you, Colonel?" "Of course, of course. I need to use the radio to talk to Iceland."
"Sorry, my friend. The weather. We lost voice contact with Iceland a while ago. But we're tracking off one of the Faeroes broadcasters and it seems we're right on where we belong. That Cromwell is like a bird dog. I think he can sniff his way to Iceland."