By Monkey

Chapter 52

Valley of the Kings

     Inside the dark shed panic took hold of Indiana Jones and his three companions.  The men shouted and Vadoma screamed as they struggled with their bonds, and kicked, clawed, and hurled themselves at the small building’s sturdy walls.  But it was to no avail.  They were locked securely inside what would be their own funeral pyre.

     Outside the shed it was quite a different story as Boris stood holding the lighted match that would seal the fate of those inside.  He and Ivan seemed to be savoring the screams of panic and the trembling of the wooden walls as their helpless victims within fought frantically against a gruesome, but inevitable fate.  Both of the sadistic killers grinned broadly, and then nodded to one another, indicating that it was time to turn the screams of panic into tortured shrieks of agonizing death.

     Boris leaned forward to throw the match, but then Ivan shouted to him, stopping him momentarily.

      “Careful Comrade!” He said, and pointed down to where Boris had splashed a good quantity of gasoline on to his own leg while dousing the shed.

     Boris looked down at his leg, then back up at Ivan with an appreciative nod.  He took one more step back away from the shed just to be sure he didn’t catch himself on fire, and then once again leaned forward to throw the match.  But then something rudely interrupted his plans.

     A lone rifle shot rang out crisply in the desert morning air.  It kicked up a clod of sand near to Boris’ foot and startled the would-be murderer such that he dropped the match.  Both Russians ran for their Tommy guns which they’d left, along with Jones’ and Elliot’s weapons against a close by rock.

     Another shot rang out, and then another before the two men reached their weapons.  Ivan picked up his Tommy gun and immediately began to blaze away blindly in the direction from which he thought the shots had come.  Boris prepared to give return fire as well, but then suddenly something occurred to him; something bad.

     Boris was on fire.

     The match had lighted his gasoline soaked pant leg, and now, with incredible speed, flames licked up around his leg and caught his jacket afire.  Within seconds his tight fitting suit had become a tight fitting cloak of searing flames.

      The Russian stood straight up and shrieked in agony as his flesh was scorched and his entire body began to be consumed by the flames.  In a fruitless gesture of panic he began to run, screaming, blindly seeking somewhere or something to put out the fire.  Then his run turned into a bizarre dance of death as he twisted and contorted his flaming body while uttering pitiful sounds of anguish that were other than human.

     Boris still gripped his Tommy gun as he continued to lose control of his own body to the effects of the flames.  He involuntarily stiffened and his finger squeezed the trigger of the weapon which swung around in a crazy arc.  A half dozen or more heavy slugs tore through his comrade Ivan’s chest, instantly killing him.

     Meanwhile, Boris finished his dance of death with a flourish; spinning around in a final, graceful, pyrotechnic pirouette before collapsing onto the hard desert ground.

     The whole bizarre sequence of events had taken less than a half minute.

     Sallah and two companions, still carrying their Enfield rifles at the ready, emerged from behind the group of rocks they’d used for cover and hurriedly ran down a small hill towards the archaeological shed.  Sallah ran hard and fast.  While the two Russians were dead, Sallah could see that Boris, still crackling, sizzling, and burning hotly, had collapsed only a few feet from the gasoline doused walls of the shed.  Those inside were not out of danger yet.

     When he reached the burning body Sallah began to heap sand upon it to put out the last of the flames.  Then he ran over to the door of the shed and shouted.

      “Marcus! Indy!  Worry not my friends; I will soon have you out of there!”

     One of the two other Arabs accompanying Sallah located a crow bar amongst the scattering of tools outside the shed and put it to immediate use on the hasp of the door lock.  A few minutes later the four former captives stood rubbing their wrists and thanking their rescuers.

      “Well, you certainly weren’t exaggerating were you Marcus when you said that there’s no better man to have with you in Egypt than Sallah,” Agent Elliot said with an appreciative nod in the Egyptian digger’s direction.

      “We owe you our lives Sallah,” Marcus said.

      “Thank you so much sir,” Vadoma added in her soft low voice.

     Sallah seemed almost embarrassed by the gratitude.

      “Truly having the company of my good friends is payment enough for any small favors my Bedouin cousins and I may have provided,” he said.

      “How did you know we were out here Sallah?  How did you ever track us down?” Indiana Jones asked with extreme curiosity.

      “Ah my friend,” the Egyptian smiled, “the desert has eyes and ears, and it speaks in a clear voice,” he answered cryptically.

      Indy knew to take it as enough of an explanation.

      “And thank you also to….” Jones hesitated.

      “Ah yes,” Sallah said, “please allow me to introduce Abdul, and his nephew Rashid; the very best diggers here in the upper reaches of the Nile.”

      “Thank you,” the four spoke almost in unison.

     After a brief pause Sallah spoke again, “But what of this dig?  I have come with mounts and supplies to delve into the tombs of my ancestors.”

      “You brought horses?” Jones asked him.

     Sallah motioned over towards some low hills, “Just over there,” he said, “but we have only six mounts, and there are seven of us.”

      “She’ll ride with me,” Indy said, nodding in Vadoma’s direction, “but what else have you brought?”

      “I have tools, rope, some electric lanterns, flares, torches, water….hopefully all that is needed.”

     Jones clapped him on the shoulders and smiled, “I know that I can always count on you Sallah.”

      “So what’s next then Jones?” Elliot asked suddenly, “The Russians now have the scroll and are no doubt going about procuring the Sun Tablets even as we speak.  Should they find them before we do then we’ll really have nothing to bargain with for Malboury will we.”

      “That’s why we need to hurry,” Jones said, “and get over to the Valley of the Kings before it’s too late.  We’ve got to get to the Tablets before the Russians do.”

      “Yes,” Marcus said, “but they’ve got the scroll, and they’ve got a head start on us.”

      “How will we locate the tomb without the scroll Jones?” Elliot asked him.

     Indy looked at him, “I’ll find it,” he said with a determined voice, “I’ve been studying that scroll for the better part of a week,” he said, then added, “but we’re not going to accomplish anything by standing around here talking about it;  I suggest we get moving.”

****************************************

***** Two hours later, Valley of the Kings ***

     Six mounts and seven riders moved cautiously up a jumbled, rocky pathway towards the summit of a low hill.  The desert morning was creeping towards desert noon and the rising heat reflected that.

     As the party crested the low hill Indiana Jones, in the lead with Vadoma seated behind him, held up his hand, motioning for all to stop.  He pulled off his fedora and wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead.

      “There,” he said, pointing with his finger into the distance where the forward part of a truck was visible, “they were in such a hurry that they didn’t even bother to hide the truck.”

      “Where is the tomb?” Elliot said, pulling his mount up next to Jones.

     Jones gazed around at the surrounding terrain for a moment before answering, “The entrance should be on the other side of those boulders.”

      “How can you be sure?”

      “Well, I wasn’t sure,” Jones answered, “but the truck confirms it.”

      “Perhaps we should dismount here and approach on foot,” Sallah suggested.

     Jones and Elliot nodded and dismounted, followed by the others.

     A few minutes later most of the group lay concealed behind a group of large rocks while Jones, Elliot, and Sallah warily approached the Russians’ parked truck.  After a few moments Indiana Jones signaled for the rest of the group to come down and join them.

     The truck was unguarded.  Inside they found nothing of interest save one item that for a number of reasons gave Jones cause for concern; a wireless set.  Outside something else gave Indiana Jones cause to ponder; a lone set of motorcycle tracks leading east, away from the truck, through the desert and towards the Nile River.

      “What do you make of that?” Elliot said; his keen eye also discerning the unexpected tracks.

      “I don’t know,” Jones said, “but we’ll have to worry about it later, we’ve got to get down into the tomb.”

     The party proceeded around the other side of the boulders that Jones had indicated before.  Once again they approached quietly and cautiously.  But their caution was once again unnecessary, there was no one there.  There was however a freshly dug hole, at the bottom of which a large disc-like stone had been slid to the side.

      “The tomb entrance!” Jones spoke quietly but couldn’t quite contain all of his natural excitement at having finally arrived at the destination that they had all sought for so long.

      “Our Russian friends are no doubt inside,” Elliot said.

      “Yes,” Marcus echoed, “let’s proceed with caution.”

      “Sallah!” Jones shouted to his friend.

     But Sallah had already anticipated Indy’s request and he and his men began to assemble equipment at the site of the tomb entrance.

     The Egyptian gazed down at the recently dug hole “Well, at least the digging’s been done for us already.”

      “Yeah but we don’t know what to expect inside,” Jones said, “I’d like to have you and one of your men with me, we’ll leave the other outside as a guard.”

     Sallah nodded, “Abdul, he will go in with us, Rashid, he will wait outside.”

     Then Jones turned to the rest of the group, “the rest of you can wait here….”

     Elliot shook his head, “Not on your life Jones, I’ve come too far to just wait outside. I’m going in with you.”

     Indy just shrugged and turned to Vadoma, “Wait for me outside…”

      “No Indy, I’m going with you too,” she spoke forcefully, “I don’t feel safe without you.”

      “But Vadoma listen…”

      “No!” She said with clear finality.

     Sallah shot Indy a chagrinned expression, “Can’t argue with a woman Indy.”

      “Not this one anyway,” Jones mumbled under his breath.

      “Alright,” he said to her with a sigh, and then turned to Marcus, “Marcus?”

     Brody paused for a moment and then smiled, “You know Indy I’ve got to see it with my own eyes.”

     Jones looked around at all of them again, “Alright then, I guess we all go,” he said, “all except Rashid who’ll remain outside as a guard.”

     The group nodded to each other as Indiana Jones climbed down into the hole and prepared to enter the tomb.  He sat down on the lip of the opening where the stone had been moved aside and peered down.

      “Pass me one of electric lanterns,” Jones said, as Sallah climbed down into the hole with him and handed him the light.

     Indy turned his head to gaze back up at the group above him, “It’s a long way down,” he said after a pause, “last chance to change your mind.”

     A moment later the archaeologist re-checked the magazine of his Webley, spinning the cylinder, snapping it shut, and then holstering the weapon.  Then he disappeared down into the opening.

     The entrance to the tomb led into a long, cramped, almost vertical tunnel that had to be negotiated feet first.  The group descended with Jones in the lead, followed by Elliot, and then Vadoma, Marcus, and Abdul, with Sallah bringing up the rear.

     It was slow going at first and all were sweating profusely in the desert heat as they struggled down through the rocky passageway.  But after descending nearly fifty feet into the earth there was a sudden change in temperature.  The air grew cooler and rapidly dried the sweat on their foreheads.

     After descending nearly one hundred feet into the earth the tunnel finally gave way into a large chamber.  One by one the party emerged out of the tunnel and into what could best be described as a cave.

     Jones and Sallah shined their electric lanterns around.  The cave’s rocky walls were completely unadorned and for a brief moment Indy had his doubts that they were in the right place.  The only thing that indicated that it had been used by the ancients at all was the presence of a battered, empty mummy case leaning against one wall.

      “Doesn’t seem to be much to it,” Elliot said rather disapprovingly.

      “That’s what they want you to think,” Jones said as he walked over to one of the cavern’s walls.

     The wall that Jones approached consisted of one enormous, naturally deposited slab of granite.  At the foot of the slab was a claustrophobically narrow crawl space.

     Jones shined his light down on it, “Follow me,” he said as he lay down on the floor of the cave and disappeared once again.

     After nearly a full minute of wiggling his way through, Jones emerged on the other side of the crawl space and stood up.  He held up his electric lantern and smiled.

     Here was an Egyptian tomb!

     As Jones shined his lantern around he found himself in a long stone corridor whose walls were covered in intricate, painted relief.  Scenes of Royal life decorated nearly every inch on both sides of the passageway.  Above, the ceiling was painted in gold.

     As the rest of the party emerged one by one from the crawl space into the corridor, each let out an almost audible gasp at the beautifully adorned walls and ceiling.

      “Pass me a torch Sallah,” Jones said.

     Sallah handed Jones the torch.  He struck a match and lit it.

      “Why the torch Jones?” Agent Elliot asked him, “why not just stick with the electric lanterns?”

     Jones turned to him and gave a quick, wry half smile, “Tricks of the trade Elliot,” he answered, “first off we want to preserve our batteries as much as possible…never know when we might need ‘em.  But secondly, and most important,” Jones threw him a knowing look, “as long as the torch burns I know we’ve got enough oxygen….always need that.”

     Elliot nodded, and then cut his electric lantern off as Sallah and Abdul lit two more torches.  The party then proceeded cautiously down the corridor.

     About 30 meters along, the passageway ended in a ‘T’, with passages branching off to both left and right.  It was then that Jones heard it…a low moaning.  He withdrew his Webley and cautioned all to be silent.  The moaning grew louder.  Jones handed Vadoma his torch, then he clicked his electric lantern back on and flashed it down the right side corridor.

     Lying on the cold hard stones were two bodies.  One was still, but the other moved slightly, and was the source of the moaning.

      “Yuri!” Jones called out to the Russian archaeologist who lay bleeding from a gunshot wound.

     Jones put away his weapon and ran over to the man.

     Yuri’s breath came in raspy gasps as his life’s blood flowed out from two ugly wounds in his chest.  He gazed up at Indiana Jones with beseeching eyes.

      “Vladimir…,” The Russian struggled for breath as he tried to speak, “Vladimir…..traitor.”

     Jones winced as the man made gurgling sounds that signaled his imminent death.

     But Yuri continued to struggle to speak, as if by doing so he was making amends for having taken part in the criminal activities of Yelena Badonov.

      “Vladimir….traitor…..Nazi…aaaaaarrrrrgggghhh,” Yuri expelled the last breath of his life.

     Indiana Jones gazed over at the other body in the passage; that of Yelena Badonov.  She lay dead, face down; her crocodilian smile wiped away forever by the Nazi traitor Vladimir.

     Like Jones had told her, she had a habit of surrounding herself with bad men.

     Indy looked up to see Elliot standing next to him.  He too had heard Yuri’s last words.

      “So our other Russian friend is a Nazi eh?” The MI5 agent said.

      “Looks like it,” Jones said as he stood up again..

     A sudden commotion in the passageway around the corner behind them caused the two men to turn.

     Jones could hear shouts and rapid Arabic being spoken.  He was surprised to hear that it was Rashid, the guard who had waited outside, who was talking.

     Though Indiana Jones spoke and understood a fair amount of Arabic, Rashid’s dialect was a bit unfamiliar.  However, he caught enough words to be alarmed by what the man was saying.  He turned to Sallah now standing next to him along with Elliot, and asked for clarification.

      “What is he saying Sallah?

TO BE CONTINUED…

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