By Monkey

Chapter 27

Calais

     “Indy?!”  Vadoma shouted loudly as she frantically searched her eyes around the pier looking for the vanished archaeologist, “Indy? Where are you?!”

      “Shhhhh!  Hold it down will you?  I’m down here.”  Jones’ voice called out from somewhere below.

      “Down where?” She asked, still searching around in confusion.

      “Over here.”  He called back to her from below the edge of the pier.

     Vadoma walked over and looked down.  Indiana Jones was standing atop one of the huge, rubber fenders that buffeted the ferry boat against the pier to prevent damage to both.

     He held his hand up towards her, “Come on, jump down.”

     She hesitated, and then Jones urged her on, “Come on!  I know you can do it.  I saw you jump that fence at Scotland Yard.  This ought to be a piece of cake.  Look,” he held up his cast, “I made it with one arm.”

      “Well you are not wearing a dress,” she answered back.

      “Come on, we’ve got to hurry.  I’ll catch you, I promise.”

     Vadoma stood at the very edge of the pier, cast a glance back toward the gendarmes, and then artfully launched herself over the side.  Her descent was surprisingly acrobatic and graceful, but nonetheless the landing was unavoidably a bit awkward as Indiana Jones reached out to help catch her and break her fall.

     She came down on top of him.  Her dress flew up in the air and Jones grabbed hard with his one good hand to prevent her from falling into the water.  The pair stumbled in a brief, intimate, clumsy dance.  After a moment Indy suddenly realized that his hand inadvertently gripped tightly to Vadoma’s firm, shapely backside; grasping a handful of her silky, black panties.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, as he quickly removed his hand after they were stabilized.  He began to redden with embarrassment.

     She smoothed out her dress with a dignified look, and then could barely suppress a smile as she saw Jones’ face turning a brighter shade of red, “Don’t worry Indy.  Thank you for catching me.  That water looks cold.”

      “Yeah… well… follow me,” he said as his color returned to normal and he began to climb up and into the understructure of the long, ferry boat pier.

     Between and amongst the pilings of the wharf was an underlying support grid of wood and steel beams.  Jones and Vadoma began to walk, crawl, and step through.  Many of the beams were encrusted with barnacles and the progress was slow lest they cut their hands, arms, and legs to ribbons.

     Many crabs also inhabited the salty, dimly lit, little world of the wharf’s underside.  As Jones and Vadoma moved along most of the crabs fled in terror, leaping into the water, but some of them reared up on their six legs and held their claws out menacingly, protecting their turf at the approach of the archaeologist and the beautiful gypsy woman.  With a quick swipe of his hand Jones cleared away the bravest of the little arthropods, sending them down with a splash to join their more cowardly brethren.

     The going was slow, and it took almost ten minutes, but Jones and the woman eventually worked their way to the beach.  Now, instead of water below them there was the soft sand of the Pas de Calais.  They dropped down from the understructure of the wharf and on to the soil of France.

     Cautiously the pair emerged from under the pier.

      “Put your arm around me,” Indy said to her as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, “make it look like we’re two lovers just out for a walk on the beach.”

     Vadoma slipped her arm around Jones’ waist and the two emerged from under the pier and proceeded slowly along the beach.  For about ten seconds Indiana Jones thought that maybe the ruse had worked, but the sound of a shrill whistle quickly dispelled that notion.

     Jones wheeled around in time to see four gendarmes running towards them from the pier, pointing and gesticulating for them to halt.

      “Run!”  He shouted and grabbed Vadoma’s hand.

     They took off down the beach, struggling to gain speed in the soft sand that sucked and gripped at their feet.  As he ran Jones turned around to look at his pursuers and was alarmed by what he saw.

     The French policemen had split up.  Two were running along the beach behind them, but two more were running along the road that ran parallel to the beach.  The gendarmes on the road, unhampered by the soft, clinging, beach sand, were gaining rapidly.  With the ocean to their right side Indiana Jones knew he and Vadoma had to make a move right now or their escape would soon be cut off.

     The pair made an abrupt, ninety-degree turn to the left and ran for the road.  The gendarmes closed in rapidly as Jones and Vadoma struggled through the beach sand to reach the low seawall and the road beyond it.  Within mere seconds of the grasp of their pursuers they vaulted over the seawall hand in hand and down on to the road.  There they made for one of the narrow, cobblestone side streets that led towards the center of town.

     The gendarmes shouted and cursed in French; sounding so close to Jones that he could almost feel their breath on his neck.  The archaeologist, still gripping tightly to Vadoma’s hand, turned down an alley between two multi-storey provincial dwellings.  So too did their pursuers.

     Up ahead in the alley a group of trash cans gave Jones an idea.  As they passed by the cans he turned briefly and kicked them over.  The delaying tactic was effective as the gendarmes slowed down to step through the mess, and Indy and Vadoma exited out of the alley before the policemen could get them in view again.

     Once out of the alley Jones and the woman ran down the narrow sidewalk.  There was another alley on the right but the archaeologist purposely passed it by as it was the most likely place for them to run to.  Instead he and Vadoma made for a second alley that was twenty meters further down.  It was a gamble, but Jones thought it would pay off.

     It didn’t.

     They were unable to reach the second alley before the gendarmes burst out on to the street and once again got them in their sights.

     The fugitives continued to run down the sidewalk towards a bend in the road ahead.  Both were now gasping for air.  The struggle through the underside of the pier, the desperate beach run, and now the pursuit through the quaint old streets of Calais had taken their toll.  They were at the end of their endurance.  Jones knew they couldn’t just keep on running, and needed to find somewhere to hide.

     They reached the bend in the road and ducked down yet another alley.  Once in the alley Indiana Jones stopped for a moment.  He and Vadoma stared at one another. Both of their chests heaved in and out in a desperate effort to feed more oxygen to their exhausted muscles.  Indy looked around quickly and his eyes settled on a fire escape ladder that led up to the flat roof of a two storey dwelling.  She followed his eyes to the ladder.  Wordlessly they turned and nodded to each other.

     As rapidly as their tired bodies could carry them they scurried up the ladder.  Jones struggled with his cast to make it up the ladder before they could be seen by the gendarmes.  Once atop the roof they ran over to a small chimney and lay down behind it.  Below them they could hear the shouts of the French police, and could only hope that their climb to the rooftop had gone unseen.

     Bit it hadn’t.

     They were foiled by a six year old.

     As the gendarmes passed by, the little boy emerged from the doorway of his home and shyly pointed to the fire escape ladder. 

     Loud footsteps clanged on the metal rungs.

      “Damnit!” Jones cursed as he stood up and helped Vadoma back to her feet.

     They ran to the opposite side of the roof where Jones searched for a ladder to climb down, but there was none.  Then he checked the back side, but there also was no ladder.  There wasn’t much choice as to what to do next, he thought.

      “Take my hand!”  He shouted and gripped hers tightly, “Run with me!  Jump…on three!”

     He turned back for a moment to see the gendarmes move up the final rungs of the ladder and on to the roof, and then pulled Vadoma along with him, “One! …Two!” he shouted as they ran for the opposite side of the roof, “…Three!”

     Hand in hand they leaped the distance over an alley to the roof of the next building.  They landed roughly, stumbled, but stayed on their feet.

     The distance over the alley wasn’t that great, but it was enough to give pause to the two gendarmes who stood and mutely watched their prey get away.  A moment of silent contemplation and a glance down into the alley three storeys below convinced them both that even such a short jump as this wasn’t in their job description.

     Indiana Jones turned and glanced back.  He could only hope that the jump to the roof of this building had bought them enough time.  He hoped too that there was a fire escape ladder on this one.

     There wasn’t.

     But there was a rooftop door that led into the building.  They ran towards it and Jones grabbed the handle.

     It was locked from the inside.

      “Shit!” Jones exclaimed as the voices of several policemen could be heard on the street below where they gathered.

      “There’s nowhere else to run!” Vadoma said. The disappointment of defeat was evident in her voice.

     Jones looked around, “There’s always somewhere to run,” he said with grim optimism.

     Then he let go of her hand and charged at the locked door.  He slammed into it with his right shoulder, throwing all of his 175 pounds into it.  The wood of the doorframe around the lock bolt shattered and the door swung open inwardly.  Indiana Jones did not have a chance to catch his balance and the archaeologist tumbled down a stairway and landed roughly on the second floor hallway.

     Vadoma ran down the stairs behind him, “Indy! Are you hurt!?”

     Jones just moaned and then stood back up slowly.  He was groggy, and his eyes were unfocused.

      “I’m fine,” he slurred as Vadoma helped him back to his feet.

     The sound of policemen entering the dwelling from below brought Jones quickly back to his senses.  He glanced around the hallway.  It appeared to be an apartment house.  Jones began trying the doors of each flat, one by one making his way down the hallway.  The first six doors he tried were all locked.

     The heavy footsteps of the gendarmes now began to clamor up the stairwell to the upstairs landing. Jones frantically tried another two doors only to find them also locked and was preparing to repeat his successful rooftop act when Vadoma called to him.

      “This one is open,” she said, pushing open the door to flat number thirteen.

     Jones looked up at the number over the door, “Swell!” he said cynically, and then ran with Vadoma into the flat and closed the door behind them.

     They entered the dwelling through the kitchen and heard a piano being played in the next room.  Jones needed to find a way out, and quickly.  He burst into the next room looking for a window.

     Both piano teacher and student alike froze, both of their hands hovering over the suddenly silent piano keys.  They stared open mouthed at the intruding archaeologist and his beautiful gypsy sidekick.

      “Pardone… pardone mademoiselles,” Jones apologized to the two women in very poor French as he ran quickly over to the window and raised his cast up to smash it.

      “Indy wait!”  Vadoma shouted as she too ran over to the window.  In a few seconds she flipped the lock and slid the window up, “You don’t have to break it.”

      “Details,” Jones quipped as he put his head out and took a look out at the street below.  There was a small café directly underneath.  There was an awning, and several sidewalk tables.  Though it was winter, there were still several hardy patrons enjoying a morning latte outside on the sidewalk.

     Jones pulled his head back inside and spoke to Vadoma, “After me, you jump to the awning, then down to the sidewalk!  You won’t get hurt!  I’ll catch you!”

     Indiana Jones stepped out on to the window ledge and dropped down.  He bounced on the tight fabric of the café awning and then tumbled off, landing almost cat-like on his feet on the sidewalk.  The morning latte drinkers stood up and gaped at the fedora clad archaeologist with the decorative cast who had seemingly just fallen from the sky.

     Jones ignored them and glanced back up at the window where Vadoma prepared to exit out on to the ledge, “Hurry!” He shouted up to her.

     The door to flat thirteen burst open and a trio of gendarmes stormed into the kitchen and then through the doorway into the next room, adding yet more excitement to what was becoming the most interesting piano lesson ever for the young woman who sat at the keys.

     Vadoma stepped out on to the ledge to jump.

      “Hurry!” Jones again urged her.

     But it was too late, and a set of hands grabbed her from behind before she could jump.

     Indiana Jones watched helplessly from below as the gendarmes began to pull Vadoma back inside.

      “INNNNDDYYYY!!  HELP MEEEEE!!”  

TO BE CONTINUED…

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