Indiana Jones and the White Witch Read online

  "Listen. You'll hear it as soon as—"

  A clanging bell interrupted her and she laughed. "They are always reliable, our German friends. They operate this zeppelin just as they do a ship at sea. Bells and whistles instead of electricity, for one. Everybody hears it, knows what it means. And the less electricity they use beneath a hydrogen bag, the better. When they need to talk from the control room to the crew in the hull, they prefer radio to telephone lines."

  "Makes sense," he agreed. He looked about him. "That means everything is fully shielded, also."

  "Right. Listen? You can hear the engines starting up," she said quickly.

  They felt vibrations as the Maybachs started turning their big pusher propellers. Once the engines were running, the vibrations eased and became more of a pleasant humming sound than an annoyance.

  The handling crew turned the great bulk of the Graf so that the ship's nose was pointed into the wind. The engines increased in power and the Graf started moving forward slowly. Then, again smoothly and in beautiful coordination, the ground crew released their holds, the engines sped up, and the Graf was free.

  "They'll keep enough speed up to move ahead slowly." Gale offered a running commentary to Indy. "Watch the ground. If you don't, you'd never know we were lifting."

  He was caught by surprise, much more so than he expected. There was no sensation of rising above the ground. Instead, he seemed to be standing still before the observation window, watching the earth falling away slowly beneath him.

  "This is incredible." He shook his head in wonder. "I'm in a ship that's as long as several city blocks through its midsection—and it's streamlined; slim, really—it's ten stories high, and I'm levitating."

  He remained at the window, none of his wonder diminishing as the throb of the engines sent a tremble through the floor. Buildings became smaller and smaller. Then, two thousand feet up, the Graf finished its climb and headed for Denmark.

  Finally Gale tugged at his sleeve. "Indy, you still with us?"

  He turned to her, a feeling of immense satisfaction in his face. "For a while, just for a while, mind you, I was able to forget everything except what's happening around me."

  "I know what you mean," she said quietly, and he had to remind himself that this woman was a pilot of great skill and experience.

  Gale sighed. "Time to come back to the people world," she said slowly, reluctant to leave the vistas before them.

  "Time for dinner?"

  "That it is, and"—she slipped her arm through his—"dinner aboard the Graf is always formal. Besides, our steward said the Wiener schnitzel is fabulous."

  "You're clutching at me like a drowning rat," he observed.

  "Of course." She smiled, moving closer. "Don't forget, Mister Parker, everyone thinks we're just the most darling couple."

  They sat by an observation window in the dining room looking out at the sky and the ocean. Indy was still taken aback by the sight of Gale in her dress. She was beautiful, her red hair agleam as if it had captured sunglow. She watched him quietly, then turned back to toy with her salad. The muted sounds of the other passengers at dinner and the engines' drone seemed to isolate them in their private conversation.

  "Any idea yet on Caitlin's whereabouts?" she asked quietly.

  Indy shook his head. "I was about to ask you the same question. You and she; the sisterhood. Feeling her presence even when you can't see her. Does that work even here?"

  "It does." Her eyes fluttered, then opened fully. "She's with us on this ship. I just don't know where," she added with a touch of frustration.

  "As you said, she's a master of disguise," Indy commented. "Then there's Cordas. He's here, too. I haven't seen him yet, but he's on the passenger manifest. What I really want to know is how many bully boys he has with him."

  Gale showed surprise. "You don't seem concerned about him."

  "I'm not. Not yet, anyway. We can't go anywhere, neither can he, and nobody has guns, including the crew." Indy shrugged. "Stalemate."

  "From where I sit, Indy, I don't believe he'd even bother with us." Gale looked about her and gestured. "Neutral territory."

  "For us," he murmured. "But Caitlin will go after him. So we play the waiting game."

  "I know," Gale admitted. "And I hate it. I just want to get this business over with."

  Indy didn't seem to be listening. He stared past her to the opposite side of the dining room. He smiled at Gale. "Don't turn your head," he said quietly. "The man sitting directly behind you, across the room. Red hair and a beard. Looks like a Viking."

  "You know him?"

  "It's Cordas. He smiles at me like he's almost baiting me."

  "What!"

  "Don't turn around! You'll see him soon enough."

  Gale felt her muscles becoming rigid. "Indy." She spoke slowly, forcing words through her teeth, almost hissing at him. "We can't just sit here while he's—"

  "Think," he ordered her. "What would you do? Confront him? You have proof that he was involved with that horror at the Glen?"

  "No, but—"

  "Then what would you do here? Accuse him to Captain Eckener? As the master of this vessel, he can throw anybody behind bars. But if he asked you for proof of anything you said, and you couldn't give it, you'd look like a fool."

  "Indy, do you believe Cordas was involved? At the Glen?"

  "Absolutely. Everything points to it. But we'll have to wait until we can get proof, and then try to force his hand. Gale, isn't that what Caitlin told Treadwell? Didn't she say she would not attack without being provoked?"

  Gale nodded moodily. "Yes."

  "Well, then we just sit and wait it out." He gestured to her meal. "Finish your dinner."

  "I'm not hungry," she said, sulking.

  "Well, I am," he said, keeping his tone light as he returned to his own dinner. "Tomorrow morning we're going to be expending a lot of energy. You'd be wise to eat."

  "Oh? Where are we going?"

  "I've been talking to the navigation officer, Karl Jaeger. I want another look inside this barge while we're airborne. Jaeger has already cleared us with Eckener for another tour through the main structure. Apparently Treadwell carries a lot of weight with the Zeppelin Company." He gestured with his fork. "And you never know just how important it is to know the local territory."

  She showed renewed favor. "That sounds like the man I know."

  Morning came with breathtaking beauty, a golden dawn rushing from the distant horizon. The Graf sailed barely a thousand feet above the ocean. The water glowed pink and then bright gold on small shining icebergs.

  Indy stood by Gale's side, looking through the windows of the control car at the surprisingly swift changes of light. Even here, in the control car, the engines seemed to synchronize with the new day. Their roar had become a rumbling surf of the skies.

  Kurt Jaeger leaned forward, his hands resting against the bracing bars of the broad observation windows. He turned to Indy and Gale. "It is beautiful," he said, speaking their thoughts aloud. "Now, if you are ready for me to show off our wonderful machine...?"

  "Please, lead on," Gale said warmly.

  "This control room," Jaeger explained, "is the operational heart and soul of the Graf. These wheels and chains"—he pointed to the controls—"enable us to maneuver through the air. In a great machine like this, unlike a winged craft, every movement must be planned well ahead of time. Events happen slowly, and the crew never forgets that we fly by the positive buoyancy of our lifting gas."

  He gestured to a hatchway and they followed him into the chart room, where the crew maintained navigational checkpoints and weather reports. "Our best navigation," Jaeger explained, "is, of course, on a clear night. Because we control our speed so exactly, and we move slowly, using the stars and planets for celestial navigation is most accurate."

  They continued into the radio room, the communications heart of the Graf. On every side bulkheads supported huge radio sets. "Shortwave radio gives the greatest range, esp
ecially at night," Jaeger explained. "We communicate mostly by Morse code."

  "And the body of the ship," Indy asked, "is your antenna for low-frequency radio?"

  "That is so, Herr Parker. Of course, when we pass ships on the surface, we can maintain voice contact. In fact, we have talked with many stations along our route, both ships and the islands over which we flew."

  "From here," Indy asked, studying the radios, "could you contact somewhere as distant as Japan?"

  Gale tried to hide her surprise at Indy's strange question. But she knew him well enough to realize that if he asked something that odd, there had to be reason for it.

  Jaeger looked doubtful. "It depends upon many factors. You are talking about the other side of the world. Conditions would have to be perfect, and at best, such contact would be intermittent."

  "Well, let's say you wanted to contact Japan from where we are right now. How would you do it?" Indy pressed.

  "The best way would be to send a message to the closest island station, or a ship, and request a relay for us. It could take minutes, perhaps hours. Do you have such a need, Herr Parker? I would be pleased to do what I can for you."

  Indy held up a hand. "No, thank you. My curiosity was piqued by one of the passengers. That Japanese man, the one in the ceremonial attire. He might have such a need."

  "Yes, of course. That is Toshio Kanamake. I understand he is a high priest. But I know nothing else about him."

  A crewman approached. Jaeger excused himself, promising to return shortly. Indy and Gale moved closer to a window, where the engine sounds were louder and they wouldn't be overheard. "Why the questions about the Japanese?" she asked.

  "He's a fake. It's a disguise," Indy replied. He leaned to one side as if inspecting a radio. "It's Caitlin," he whispered.

  "What?"

  "Hold it down, carrot top. I've spent time in Japan. Nobody moves so smoothly in all that heavy ceremonial garb. It's her, all right. The hair, skin color, mustache.... She's done a great job. I finally figured it out last night."

  "But why that outlandish robe!"

  "It's perfect. She's wearing the sword beneath all that garb." Indy turned with the approach of Jaeger.

  "Herr Parker? Frau Parker? I am ready to continue."

  This was their second visit to the capacious hull of the Graf. But now it was an entirely different world. The huge zeppelin was alive as she cruised majestically through the skies, accompanied by the distant throbbing of engines, the always shifting call of the winds, and the gentle rocking motions of the gondola. For the first time, with the light streaming in through the cotton covering, the Graf was a gleaming forest of technology. They could have been within a cathedral, as they had felt before, but just as easily they could have been in an enormous cavern under the earth's surface.

  They followed Jaeger along the duralumin catwalks, climbed ladders that soared to the very top of the zeppelin, where hatches opened to the outside of the hull. There, a man on the heaving upper flanks might ride a silvery vessel nearly eight hundred feet long and supported by magic.

  Here was the true community of the Graf, the bunk-houses for the crew, storage for cargo, food and water, washrooms and workrooms for the men who ran the machine. A deep humming noise increased as Jaeger led them to the generator room, and finally they stood within a mass of rumbling, whirring machinery. "In here, of course, everything is heavily insulated, static free. We are isolated from the rest of the world." Jaeger smiled. "We call this place the devil's workshop. Whatever happens to the Graf originates from here."

  "The heartbeat," Indy said to the German officer.

  "Wunderbar!" Jaeger exclaimed. "I could not have said it better."

  They continued their journey through spokes and ladders and gangways fanning out in all directions from the central keel. Men a hundred feet above them called out to one another, a singsong of human voices mixing with thrumming power.

  Jaeger gestured for them to begin their return to the passenger quarters. "It is time for breakfast"—he smiled—"and our chef will be annoyed with me if I cause you to miss one of his wonderful meals. He prides himself on his skills. Besides, as you enjoy his food you will have a bird's-eye view of the first large icebergs coming into sight."

  "And whales?" Gale asked.

  Jaeger laughed, the perfect host. "Yes, Frau Parker, I promise you the whales also."

  15

  To be floating beneath a giant time bomb filled with hydrogen over a bitter-cold sea gnawed at Gale's patience. She stared moodily through an observation window.

  "How much longer are you going to sit around like a piece of furniture," she finally exploded, "while that murderer struts about, tipping his hat to us and smiling? He smiles at us!"

  "And no harm done," Indy said calmly. "It doesn't hurt us—or Caitlin, for that matter."

  Gale lapsed again into a brooding silence. Indy held the reins on his own growing impatience. He knew how Gale felt. But timing was everything. This wasn't simply a case of exacting their own punishment against Cordas. Indy knew all too well that revenge for its own sake rarely equaled justice. They couldn't take the law into their own hands. They would be no better than criminals. The more he chewed over the situation, the more he understood Gale's despair and anger.

  Gale and Indy were now on the right side of the Graf, facing north. They had passed Denmark, the Baltic Sea, Finland, and Norway, had crossed Jan Mayen Island, and finally were into their long curving course over the Denmark Strait. Iceland would now be to their left and Greenland to their right as they headed directly for Cape Farewell on the southern tip of Greenland.

  Icebergs had appeared, floating islands of gleaming white. Chin cupped in her hands, Gale pushed aside her troubled thoughts as she opened her senses to the wonders below. The sun sat low on the horizon, a pale and distant star. They cruised above an utterly flat sea, without a ripple, except for those caused by great whales spouting thin plumes of white spray that were tossed away by the surface winds.

  In the late afternoon Jaeger joined them. He pointed to the north. "Those wispy clouds up there. See them?"

  Long streamers and curlicues sailed miles above their own altitude. Gale didn't need explanations from Jaeger. "Mare's tails," she said. "The beginnings of a front. How far from us?"

  "Fifty miles, perhaps sixty," he answered, unsmiling. "I do not need to hide from you what is coming, Miss Parker. It is a strong front and it is bearing down on us with great speed."

  "We're going to be in it?" Indy asked.

  Both Jaeger and Gale nodded. "I am afraid so, sir. Among other things, the thermometer is dropping as fast as the barometer. Sometime during the night"—he shrugged—"we will know more. Unfortunately there are very few stations to the north that can send us information." He stood. "But tonight? A marvelous meal. I invite you to enjoy."

  In their cabin Gale offered her own advice to Indy. "Forget the fancy dressing. It's going to get much colder."

  "I've noticed," he said.

  "And these cabins are not heated," she added.

  "I know. My goose bumps are sending messages to each other."

  "You hungry, Indy?"

  He grinned. "Always."

  "Let's do it," she said. "Oh, by the way. We'll be seated with an American navy captain. A scientist. He's along to gain some experience on flying in the northern regions."

  Indy removed his favorite leather jacket from the closet. "Follow your own advice. Get dressed. Bundle up. I'll wait for you in the lounge."

  Dinner was everything that Jaeger had promised, and more. The sense of floating without apparent effort across a great ocean while seated in a lounge with rich draperies and luxurious fittings, sailing along at nearly eighty miles an hour, returned again and again. But now there was an unwelcome visitor. The forward edges of the downrushing front from the northernmost regions stabbed at the Graf Zeppelin, trembling and prodding with fingers of wind. They could feel the airship rising and falling as downdrafts made them fee
l lighter in their seats. Minutes later, as the Graf sailed beyond a current of downflowing air, the ship returned to its former level.

  As if to remedy what the coming hours could bring, the crew went all out to please the passengers. Dinner began with a choice of wines, fresh fruit and sherbet, shrimp and lobster tidbits, pate de fois gras, sizzling lamb chops, a variety of vegetables and potatoes, smoked salmon, and four brands of caviar. Gleaming Bavarian chinaware graced every table, and no wineglass went empty. The dessert trays offered lush pastries from a dozen different nations.

  And the Graf trembled, a bit more, it seemed, with each course.

  Indy studied the crew. The quick smiles of the stewards looked forced. An air of tenseness grew stronger. It was, he was pleased to note, not a feeling of fear or apprehension, but a determination to secure the airship against the approaching violence.

  Their good weather, that wonderful air ocean that had given them so graceful a passage up to now, departed almost with reluctance. By now the Graf was revealing the pressures that were being applied to its huge shape. Strange slapping sounds could be heard. Captain Richard Pruett, USN, raised his eyes as if seeing off into the distance. "That's the Graf, breathing," he said with an air of comfortable calm immensely pleasing to Indy.

  "Of course," Gale said, placing Pruett's words into her own knowledge of the forces of flight. "The outer envelope. If it didn't have elasticity—breathing—it could tear the material. But this way..." She left the rest of her sentence unvoiced.

  Indy leaned forward. "I'm not as sanguine as Mrs. Parker about something this size, and yet so delicate, standing up well in a real storm. You increase my confidence," he told Pruett.

  The navy captain laughed. "Let me put it this way. It could get a bit bouncy before this is over, but this is the best, and the strongest, airship ever built. Fortunately, a dirigible of this design doesn't have to remain in the heart of a storm and fight it out with the elements. Captain Eckener is the most experienced airship officer in the world. We'll move along with the winds if he decides that's the best way to minimize air loads on this vessel."