Part 1: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

PART II

ATLANTIC

"'There are armchair scientists who have scoffed but had they dug on the floors of the caves with us they would have changed their minds and revised their ideas,' Mitchell-Hedges wrote. 'Those who deny Atlantis ever existed outside the fertile imagination of some early writers claim in support of their denials that no evidence had been to justify theory... Now the evidence has been found.'
With that, Mitchell-Hedges zeroed in and pointed out there was a likely outpost of Atlantis within the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras. The artifacts which his expedition uncovered displayed an astounding quality of workmanship and detail..."
- The Crystal Skull, Richard Garrin

The taxi pulled up at the Palais in New York City four hours later. Indy paid the fee (travel allowance, of course) and looked at the marquee. MADAME SOPHIA TONIGHT, in bold print. It was night-time by now, and according to his program the show was scheduled to begin in ten minutes time. Indy strode over to the ticket booth, where a disinterested looking woman was smoking. "Hello there," said Indy.
"Show's sold out, sir," said the ticket lady in no uncertain terms.
"Now, look-"
"No seats, no standing room, no exceptions."
"It's an emergency!" pleaded Indy.
"Only emergencies we cater for are police, ambulance and fire."
"It's a matter of life and death!"
"They all say that, sir."
Indy backed away reluctantly, and wandered despondently down the street. Maybe he could wait until the conclusion for Madame Sophia (Aaarrggh!, he thought. Just Sophia! Just Sophia!), but she probably had some stage exit she used. Besides, Indy got the impression that he was already wasting time.
He came to a small newsstand by the pavement, long ago shut up shop for the night. However, one paper was still on display. Indy picked it up, for no other reason than the fact that it was the late edition, and he wanted to know if the Dodgers won. Folding the paper up under his arm, Indy continued walking, past a telephone booth and into open space. Indy looked to his left. The alleyway was littered with wooden crates and garbage cans, and a stage entrance.
Aha.
Indy tried the stage door. To his surprise, it was unlocked. Indy pushed the door open, then backed into the alleyway as a large, threatening, half-man half-ape beast of a doorman bustled out. "Whaddya want, pal?" he asked in a heavy Bronx accent, waving his fists for emphasis. "Dis ain't no ticket office."
"I'm here to enjoy Madame's outrageous orations," replied Indy, caught on the hop. He thought of attacking with his fists, but the doorman was just too big. And hairy.
"This ain't dat kinda show!" yelled the doorman.
"Of course not," said Indy hurriedly. "Madame Sophia's a renowned thinker," he continued, in lie-through-the-teeth mode.
"Careful pal, you're talking about my idol here," said the doorman, managing to look even more threatening through the judicious use of distance.
Indy blinked. A Madame Sophia fan? Here? On the door? Still, it could prove to his advantage...
"No kidding, I think she's the greatest," Indy continued, following up this promising new area.
"Me too," agreed the doorman. "There's something about her..." He paused for a moment, lost in thought.
"Yeah, she's very smart," averred Indy.
"Smart? I'll say," said the doorman, his voice now radiating buckets of awe. Ye gods, thought Indy. "You know what I really like?" continued the doorman. "The way she...she..."
"She makes things so easy to understand?" suggested Indy gently.
"THAT'S IT!!!" yelled the doorman. Indy jumped back a little. "All that smart stuff seems so easy when I'm with her. Say, you're all right for a college boy. Come on in!" He gestured at the door.
Indy walked inside.

It was a short walk through the dusty backstage area, past several doors, and suddenly Indy found himself in the side wings of a huge auditorium. By the curtain, an old man in overalls was standing by the power equipment and light switches. To his right was the main stage - bare polished wooden timber, except for a single pulpit. Standing in the pulpit was Sophia Hapgood, wearing a black skirt, purple blouse and large amounts of jewellery. It went well with the red hair, which she'd kept long and thick, down to below her shoulders. Indy felt a slight flick of irritation. Still, compared to the stage operator, who was wearing a stained blue shirt, black corduroy pants, and red suspenders, it wasn't quite so bad.
He wandered over to the stage operator, who gave him a Halloween grin and took his pipe out. "Aah, you must be the new doorman," he said. "'Bout time they got rid of Biff. He was such a pushover."
"I'll say," said Indy. "Say, I need to talk to Ma- Sophia for a moment. Could you call that so-called psychic over?"
"It's Madame Sophia to us employees, fella," said the stage operator, peering over his bifocals at Indy.
"She sure packs them in," said Indy resignedly.
"Every night, a full house without fail. It's unbelievable. Look, fella, why don'tcha just take it easy and watch the show." The stage operator turned to the stage, staring at Sophia. Indy got some idea of what he was referring to by 'the show', and it didn't involve listening. Indy sighed, and turned to see what Sophia Hapgood was up to.
Sophia was of reasonable build, slightly smaller than Indy. Apart from her bright, long grown red hair, approaching auburn, perhaps no other feature or hers was particularly notable. Yet she seemed possessed of an enormous stage presence. She was standing behind the pulpit, talking animatedly and passionately. "Here, my friends, is ATLANTIS!" She indicated a slide behind her depicting a futuristic, technological city. "As it might have appeared in its heyday!" Another slide showed glorious open spaces beneath huge skyscrapers.
"Glorious," said Sophia, turning back to the audience. "Prosperous. Socially and technically advanced." Another slide behind her depicted people frolicking in open parklands. "Beyond our wildest dreams," she said enthusiastically, white teeth smiling.
Indy yawned. Hyperbole city, here we come.
"Five thousand years ago," continued Sophia, "while everyone else still wore animal skins, the mighty spirits of Atlantis dared to build a city knowledge and power were united in true happiness."
Indy groaned.
"Centuries later, the famous philosopher Plato wrote about it! He placed Atlantis on a continent out in the deep ocean, and described how it was divided into three concentric circles, such as you see here." She stepped back and pointed at a slide showing a possible layout.
"Isn't she something?" said the stage operator beside Indy. Indy turned. The stage operator's eyes still held remnants of...what? Awe? Admiration? Reverence?
Whatever it was, Indy was immune to it.
"She can go on for hours!" said the stage operator, rapt. Indy estimated he was perhaps fifty to sixty years older than Sophia. Indy looked at Sophia, again. His mind drew a very large blank.
"Excuse me," he began.
"Ssh!" admonished the stage operator. "She's just coming to the excitin' part!"
Indy raised an eyebrow, and turned back to the stage. He risked a brief look at the audience. Sure enough, they were as enthralled as the stage operator. Indy made a brief checklist. So far, he'd discovered a bulking, sub-60 IQ doorman and a ninety year old, wizened stage operator, and both were huge fans of Sophia. Indy could see no common denominator, apart from them both being male. For no particular reason, Indy felt a momentary ping of jealousy.
He considered telling the stage operator that Sophia had been his assistant for a year, but decided against it. Besides, he was right...it was getting to the 'exciting' part. Of sorts.
"What befell this serene city?" asked Sophia in a calm voice. "We may never know for sure. Was it the sea level, slowly creeping higher? Or the earth itself, suddenly shifting?"
The slide of serene Atlantis was replaced by an image of squalling winds and tidal waves assaulting the fair skyscrapers while citizens ran in terror. Sophia wandered over to the picture. "However it happened, panic must have gripped the citizens," she said, pointing at the picture with a rod to emphasise the point. "On that fateful day when Atlantis sank beneath the waves."
The slide screen showed a slow-motion animation of a city collapsing in upon itself.
"Or," continued Sophia, "Perhaps it was a volcanic eruption, and something remains even now. On some questions, the great spirit who guides my thoughts..."
Here we go, thought Indy.
"...the all seeing Nur-Ab-Sal, is silent." A picture of a mighty warrior appeared on the slide screen. Indy noticed that it wore horns, not dissimilar to the ones he saw on the statuette. He looked at the picture, confused.
"I been through this a hundred times," said the stage operator by his side. "The woman never stops!"
Indy decided that perhaps it was time to talk with Sophia.
"Excuse me," he said to the stage operator.
"Yeah, what now?"
"You look tired. Wouldn't you like to call it a day?" Indy looked at him hopefully.
The stage operator considered this. "Nah. Sooner or later I get to run the ghost out there. That's always a big moment." Indy looked at a fading white sheet hung over some kind of ceremonial mask. The mask had a bulb in the centre, and was attached to a wire leading out onto the stage. Here, in the reasonable backstage light, it just looked tacky, but in a dim auditorium would probably be something of a spectacle.
Is this Nur-Ab-Sal? wondered Indy, with a smile on his face.
"Isn't there something you'd rather be doing?" suggested Indy. Nod, wink.
The stage operator looked at him quizzically through the bifocals. "Like what? Show business is my whole life!"
"Don't you ever read?" asked Indy.
"Sure, it's a hobby of mine," replied the stage operator. Indy looked around - he seemed to be getting nowhere. Inspiration struck.
"What if I gave you something to walk away?" he asked. Nod, wink.
"A bribe?" replied the stage operator, incredulous. "Who do you think you're talking to?"
"No no no," said Indy quickly. "I think we have a misunderstanding. What if I gave you something to read?" He looked desperately at the stage operator, trying to get the message across - I need to talk to her.
"I might take a look," the stage operator grudgingly admitted.
Indy took the late edition out of his suit pocket and handed it to the stage operator. "Here you go, then."
The stage operator took the paper. "Well, well. The late edition. I wonder if the Dodgers won? Watch the lights while I find out, okay?"
Indy watched him go through the backstage door, relieved, then turned to the light console. I need some way of contacting her, he thought. He looked at the 'ghost', hanging from the wire. A mischievous grin crossed his face.

On stage, Sophia was well into her performance, her voice loud and confident in the huge auditorium as she expounded her theories and philosophies on Atlantis.
"...and I still feel the presence of Atlantis, guiding me through my thoughts..."
She was still in the middle of the sentence when suddenly, from stage right, a glowing, horned ghost appeared. It flew across the stage then stopped midway, rotating madly. Several audience members gasped.
Sophia stared at it, taken aback. "Errr," she began, then realised she may as well press on. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said in her most strident voice, "may I present Nur-Ab-Sal, the great Atlantean god of...of..." Her face flushed red as she searched for the right word.
Indy couldn't resist himself. "Deceit!" he called out from side stage, grinning.
"Deceit!" echoed Sophia gratefully. "Thanks, Indy." Her face froze.
"INDIANA JONES!?" she yelled, turning from the audience to face him. "You've got some nerve!" She flapped at the ghost of Nur-Ab-Sal, still rotating overhead. "Go back, you big jack-o'-lantern!"
There was a nasty electrical noise as the light bulb shorted out. Flames caught fire in the sheet overhanging the mask and quickly burnt it to ashes. "Oh, great," moaned Sophia in a low voice. She turned to the audience, which was taken aback by the sudden turn in events. Some people were scrabbling for the program. "G'night, folks." She stepped down and walked as purposefully as possible off the stage.
Indy got himself together. The look on Sophia's face was not at all one of merriment. Sophia reached side stage and stopped, standing aggressively with one hand on her hips. "Come on, mister. I've got a few words to mince with you."
"I'd say it's about time," responded Indy. Sophia looked at him a moment longer, then turned toward the backstage door. As he followed her through, Indy looked back at the audience. They were still in their seats.

Sophia led him to a large door amid the dusty passageway. She opened it, and raised her hand to her mouth. "Oh, no!" she cried.
"What?" asked Indy. Sophia dashed into the room, with Indy struggling to keep up. As he rounded the door, Indy saw the reason for her dismay - the room was an utter shambles. Benches, tables and desks were overturned. Sheets of paper and other items were strewn across the floor.
"Looks like Kerner got here first!" said Indy. "Stay put," he told Sophia, who was rummaging around in a pile of overturned books. He walked briskly out the door, down the stage, and through the rear entrance to be out in the cool night air. Indy walked over to the telephone booth and scanned the street. "No one here," he muttered. He looked into the alleyway. "Or here either." Indy shrugged his shoulders and walked back inside.
As the door closed, Klaus Kerner rose from his hiding place behind a large stack of wooden crates. He walked out of the alleyway, not bothering to suppress a grim smile, and went into the phone booth. His steady hand quickly rapped out a German phone line number. He waited while the phone rang over two thousand miles away.
The receiver was picked up.
"Doctor Ubermann?" asked Kerner. "Fantastic news. I think we've found the treasure we seek." Kerner was feeling very proud to be a German. Patriotism was the lifeblood by which a nation prospered, and what nation right now had greater patriots than Germany? Kerner hoped to soon become the greatest patriot of them all.
Hanging up the phone Kerner stepped out into the street, fulfilled. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, then strode off in search of a taxi.

Indy was slightly out of breath as he walked back into Sophia's room. "That's the second time Kerner's slipped away!" he said loudly, annoyed. Sophia was standing by the only upright desk left, listening, and looking far more composed. "What does a Nazi spy want with ancient statues?" said Indy. It should be in a museum, he thought forcefully.
"Have you seen the papers?" asked Sophia, walking over to him and holding a paper headline up.
"Well, no, I haven't really had the time..." began Indy, lapsing into silence. He looked at the headline: GERMAN WIZARD SPLITS ATOM.
"Listen to this," said Sophia firmly. She read out the article. "Germans claim victory in the worldwide race to smash the uranium atom. Chief scientist Dr. Hans Ubermann announces plan to harness new energy sources for the Third Reich."
"So?" asked Indy, puzzled. "Practical results are years away."
"Of course they are," said Sophia. "That's why they're looking for the power of Atlantis."
Indy snorted. "Be serious!" He walked around the ransacked office, occasionally looking out the window at the night city. "I used to think you'd make a good scientist. Yet you've been stealing things from my expedition! And not publishing a word about these finds, artefacts the like of which archaeology has never seen!"
"Hmph!" replied Sophia haughtily, and strode over to a dressing screen in the corner.
"I ought to have you arrested," continued Indy moodily, rubbing at his chin. Sophia put her blouse and skirt on the rim of the screen. Indy looked at these briefly and at the head of Sophia behind them, her red hair tossing about as she changed, then started pacing around the room again.
"So what if I kept a few pieces for myself?" replied Sophia. She strode out from behind the curtain and tossed her hair - it was a nervous habit Indy had grown used to in Iceland. The change in her appearance was surprising. Gone with the makeup, eyeshadow and bangles, this alter ego was wearing a faded, dirty yellow blouse, grey jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. If she'd set out to look like a female Indiana Jones, she hadn't gone far wrong. The change was complete, except for one thing - a gold necklace which hung down from her neck.
Indy peered at it closer - he didn't remember Sophia wearing anything like that in Iceland.
"Look for a small coppery bead under those clippings in my desk," said Sophia. Indy rummaged around in the drawer, tossing paper over his shoulders, then gasped as his fingers drew out a bead identical to the one in the statuette.
"Well, what do you know?" he said softly. Indy walked over to Sophia and handed her the bead.
"Kerner missed the grand prize," said Sophia.
"What?"
"My necklace," said Sophia confidently.
"Yeah, I noticed you wearing it," said Indy. He also noticed that she kept the top button of her blouse undone to display it to maximum effect, but chose not to volunteer this information. Instead, he drew closer and looked at the design.
It was a roughly square shaped gold block hanging from a thick chain, but that wasn't what Indy noticed first. What Indy noticed first was the face. It was almost identical in design to the statue. Indy felt a small thrill of excitement. Like on the statue, this face had an open mouth.
"Watch closely," said Sophia. "The bead is made of orichalcum, the mystery metal first mentioned by Plato." She drew the bead up toward the medallion. "Now I'll place it in the medallion's mouth." Indy waited.
The medallion began to vibrate, and its eyes began to glow, cycling from dark green to light yellow. Indy stared, his mouth open. Green light began to spiral out of the medallion, and settled into an orbit around Sophia and the necklace. There was a low throbbing noise at the edge of hearing. The green energy orbiting Sophia grew larger in volume while Sophia stood in the middle of it all, the picture of serenity. The light in the room was beginning to brighten unbearably.
Offshoots of energy ran from the circular orbit and twirled around the room, forming and unforming half shapes with each other. Indy backed away, shielding his face from the strobing light. Sophia was lost from sight.
Without any warning, the lights winked out.
Indy brought his arm down gingerly.
"Did you see that?" asked Sophia, as steady as ever.
"Yeah, creepy," agreed Indy quickly. He groped around for some sanity. "Is your electric bill paid up?"
"THAT was Nur-Ab-Sal. His spirit is close."
"Closer than Atlantis, that's for sure," quipped Indy. He thought for a moment. "Suppose I gave this orichalcum business any credence, which I don't. We have no idea where to find your mythical lost city!" He waved his arms for emphasis.
Sophia held up a hand. "Shhh!" She then placed it over her eyes and looked upward, while her other hand was raised above the head with her fingers twiddling madly.
Indy arched both his eyebrows.
"I'm getting something..." said Sophia in a high voice. "Nur-Ab-Sal speaks! He bids us find the...what...oh, a book! yes... the Lost Dialogue of Plato!"
Indy snorted. "Another fine myth. That book is a legendary hoax. It's certainly not in any library I've been in." But he felt uncertain. Orichalcum wasn't in any library he'd been in either, and he'd just seen it demonstrated.
Sophia folded her arms. "What if the Nazis have already found a copy? You ever think of that?"
"Hmmm," said Indy. He walked back over to the desk, feeling somewhat intimidated. "You found this stuff in Iceland, right?"
"Yes, near our old dig site," replied Sophia.
"I thought so," said Indy, folding his arms and glaring at her momentarily. "What were these pieces doing in Iceland?"
"Survivors must have sailed there after the great catastrophe," said Sophia.
"Why Iceland? Why not Florida, or someplace warm?" wondered Indy despairingly.
"Perhaps they didn't like tourists."
"Who's working there these days?"
Sophia thought. "Bjorn Heimdall, I believe."
Indy grappled with himself, and reached a decision. "I think it's time we paid him a visit."
Sophia looked him in the eye, and smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Dr Indiana Jones and Miss Sophia Hapgood, isn't it?" asked Dr Heimdall. "This is my site now. Go away." He returned to his digging.
Indy looked around at the icy cavern, his hands held against his chest to keep warm. Dressed in business suit no longer, Indy was back to his native outfit. Why now? he wondered. I can put up with obstinate, difficult people at times, but why can't they give me trouble somewhere comfortable? Why does it have to be subzero temperatures?
Behind him, Sophia made similar signs of frustration.
"Not feeling very friendly today, are we?" said Indy.
"I like solitude," responded Doctor Heimdall in his childlike, somewhat comic voice. "It helps me think."
Cutting to the chase, Indy asked, "Doctor, what do you expect to find here?"
"The secret of Hyperborea," responded Dr Heimdall enthusiastically. "That's what the Greeks called Iceland, you know. You've read how they sailed north to a fog-shrouded land? And how they never set foot upon it?"
Dr Heimdall looked at Indy. "Ha!" he cried derisively. "After travelling thousands of miles, mere fog wouldn't turn them back! Some idiots claim they were repelled by ghosts. Poppycock! You know what actually stopped them, Jones?"
"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me," replied Indy wearily.
"They were stopped by a force field!" confided Dr Heimdall. "Put here by beings not of this earth!"
Indy tugged at the brim of his hat. "Hmmm... that's fascinating, Doctor." Sophia coughed meaningfully behind him. "Oh yeah," muttered Indy.
"Have you ever heard of Plato's Lost Dialogue?" he asked.
"Yes, there are rumours about such a book," said Dr Heimdall, "but I've yet to see it. There are two people you might want to see about it. Charles Sternhart in Tikal - a shady fellow, who claims he translated the whole thing. And Felipe Costa in the Azores Islands. As a researcher he's a farce, but he's a sharp trader."
Indy wrote the names down. While he struggled with his numb fingers, he asked, "Why did these 'beings' show up here?"
"I am convinced that these travellers came to earth to form colonies like Atlantis, using Hyperborea as a spaceport. It's close to the ether, you know, making it a perfect landing site."
"So what's the link between Hyperborea and Atlantis?" asked Indy absently.
"Why, the Jastro expedition!" replied Dr Heimdall brightly. Indy looked up sharply. "The one you both worked on!" continued the Doctor. "Recently, I saw pieces from it, pieces that are clearly Atlantean!"
"I see," said Indy. He turned to Sophia, accusingly. "Someone must have been selling them."
Sophia tossed her hair dismissively. "Go ahead, blame it all on me," she replied.
Indy turned back to Dr Heimdall. Now his nose was going numb. "Well, gotta go find those other spaceports," he said.
"Farewell, fellow believer," said Dr Heimdall encouragingly. Indy and Sophia walked stiffly out of the cavern tunnel and into the open air. It wasn't much better out there either, with a fierce northern squall penetrating right to the skin, and beyond - to the marrow.
By unspoken agreement the two archaeologists set off for their transport van.
"Did you see what Dr Heimdall was excavating in there?" asked Sophia.
"I couldn't see too well through the ice," replied Indy through chattering teeth. "Looked perhaps like a coiled animal - maybe a snake. Right now, though, I think our best bet is to go find Professor Sternhart. If he translated the text, maybe he still has a copy."
"Okay," said Sophia.
They could now see the travel van in front - they'd hired it from the airport when they landed. As far as they were concerned, it was an oasis of warmth and shelter.
"I think the good doctor's got frostbite of the brain," muttered Indy.
"I'll say!" said Sophia. "Spaceport, my eye!"
"Cold enough for you?" asked Indy.
"Even colder than my feelings toward you, Indy," replied Sophia, her voice perfectly icy.
Ouch. Indy smiled just a little. She still knew how to zing one past you.
"Oh well, here's the van," said Indy as they drew up to it. He reached out and opened the door. "Let's head for the airport."

Indy brought the hired jeep to a stop by the Central American jungle. He breathed in deeply the ninety-degree-plus heat. "This is much better," he enthused.
"According to the information here," said Sophia, reading a Tikal fact sheet, "we should find Professor Sternhart here."
Indy got out and surveyed the landscape. There wasn't much by the way of habitation. Not even the sign of any habitation. Just jungle, and occasional patches of clearing.
"Doesn't look hopeful," said Indy.
"Well, we'll just have to go and look then, won't we?" replied Sophia impatiently. She got out of the car.
"How do you like the tropics?" asked Indy, still scanning the treeline. This really was more his kind of environment. Give me heat and sweat any day, he thought.
"How do I like it?" said Sophia. "You're the one who's afraid of snakes."
"Go on, rub it in," said Indy, smiling goodnaturedly. "Well, then, are we going to explore these forests or what?"
"Explore? I'm not setting foot in that malaria infested hole," said Sophia petulantly.
Indy sighed. He turned to Sophia.
"I guess it's up to me, then. Could you at least do me a favour and stay by the Jeep until I get back?"
Sophia giggled. "But of course, Indy!" She leant back against the car. "I'd do anything for you," she whispered huskily.
"Well that's great," was all Indy could manage. He turned and walked off briskly into the cool jungle. Sophia laughed.

Indy was two minutes into the jungle before the hot pulse in his head began to cool down. Sophia could certainly get your blood up! On Iceland things had gone too far, and they'd spent eight months sniping at each other. Was it about to start again?
Indy passed a jungle rodent, which ignored him and continued to forage for food. He was feeling quite calm now. Solitude did this to him - Indy worked best alone. Perhaps it was a byproduct of being an only child.
The light ahead was brighter. Indy strode forward, pushed past some bushes, and came out in the bright sunshine. Around him the world was tall forested mountains and gentle plains. Right in front of him, however, was a deep ravine. On the other side was what appeared to be a Mayan pyramid. Looks like the kind of place we'd find Professor Sternhart, thought Indy. Better get over there, just to check.
But how to cross the ravine? Indy regarded the problem. It was perhaps just long enough to jump, but Indy didn't trust his legs that much. There weren't any overhanging trees to climb onto which spanned the ravine. But there was, growing right on the edge of the ravine, a tall, brown/green tree which looked extremely supple. Perhaps supple enough to form a bridge?
Indy approached the tree. That's a funny looking set of green rings around the bark, he thought. When he was less than a foot away the topmost ring raised its head and hissed at him.
Indy jumped back, startled, tripped, and fell onto his back. He stared at the snake, which glared back at him for a few timeless seconds then curled back around the tree. "I'm not going anywhere near that snake," muttered Indy, who always kept with him a highly sensitive sense of survival. Indy looked around the ravine for a while longer, then admitted defeat and walked back into the jungle.
Some of the greatest moments in life occur when an idea suddenly pops into the head, for absolutely no reason. The gentle musing on the possibilities, the casual murmur of "yeah...that might just work...", all build inevitably to the huge triumph that goes down as another achievement on the tally-board of life. Indy had one of these moments when walking back through the jungle, lost amid dark green foliage and insectile chirpings, he passed the jungle rodent. Indy stared at it for a moment. He then proceeded to bypass all the other stages of idea to execution and took his bullwhip out. The background noise of the jungle faded into the periphery as Indy judged the distance. Then, with expert touch, Indy cracked the whip at the jungle rodent, managing to just flick its rear end. The rodent squealed and ran off, crashing through the jungle foliage. Indy jogged along behind. The squeals began to fade slowly into the distance, then there was a huge crash of vegetation, a momentary silence before the rodent started squealing louder. Finally, there was silence once more.
Indy burst into the open and ran to the ravine edge. Sure enough, the jungle rodent was still falling, having been entangled with the green snake, which was attempting to strangle it. "Good old Mother Nature," said Indy, turning away just before the two examples of the animal condition hit bottom, silently. He regarded anew the tree trunk, now snake-free. It already overhung halfway across the ravine.
"Yeah, should work," said Indy. He reached for a handhold on the trunk, tensed his right foot to spring, and sprung. His left foot scrabbled for an easy purchase and found it. Indy pulled himself up further against the trunk, getting sap on his jacket. He brought his right foot up and then extended a left hand to a sturdy looking branch. An ant on the branch beneath regarded him curiously.
As Indy climbed higher, occasionally grunting with effort, the base of the trunk began to creak. Slowly, surely, it began to bend. Indy was carried out over the ravine.
Don't look down. Keep climbing.
Indy kept his vision upward, into the blue sky, and reached for further purchase. The trunk continued to bend, so that Indy was now more than forty five degrees from the vertical. He was nearly over the other side.
Now the trunk started creaking as it took more stress. Indy was almost horizontal, only two metres above the ground despite having climbed five. He was fully over the other side of the ravine.
Indy decided to chance it. Bracing his feet against the most secure footing he could find, Indy pushed off. The tree whiplashed back to its normally vertical position. Time stood still as Indy hung in the air, his fate unclear. Then his right shoulder hit the ground. Indy rolled to his right, instinctively.
Indy got to his feet. Compared to Caswell hall, this was a picnic. "Ha. Easy," he said to the tree. Indy turned, and walked toward the pyramid. Should find Sternhart here, he thought.
A parrot cawed at him as he walked past. Indy looked at it. "Braaaaaaawk!" said the parrot, and gave him an intelligent glance.
The pyramid was nearer now. At the base he could make out what looked to be a sales stand of some kind, probably for the tourists, and standing by it was someone with red hair. Funny, Sternhart didn't sound like the red headed type...
"Hi, Indy," said Sophia as Indy approached. She smiled sweetly.
"Huh?" replied Indy intelligently. He scratched his head. "Er, hello."
There was a momentary silence.
"How did you get over here?" asked Indy. He had to admit it wasn't a very good line, but Sophia had just knocked him for six. Again.
"While you were off bushwhacking," said Sophia airily, "I found a path."
Indy had to fight off an urge to make strangling motions with his hands. God, that woman!
For something else to do, Indy wandered over to the stand, headlined TRINKETS. He saw postcards, assorted worthless archaeological artefacts, and a number of oil lamps. He reached out for an oil lamp.
"STOP!" The voice rang out over the clearing. Indy and Sophia turned guiltily as a short, scrawny man in khaki shorts, shirt and a white hat walked sharply over to them. "Just a minute, that's my shop." He stopped and looked inquiringly at them. "Can I help you with something? Postcards? Replicas of the temple? Souvenir mugs?"
"Er, no thanks, Mr..." began Indy.
"Charles Sternhart, Ph.D," rapped back Sternhart in a rich, plummy English accent. "Independent thinker, researcher, and merchant."
You could fit that on a business card, thought Indy.
"Professor Sternhart?" asked Sophia beside him.
"Yes," he said slowly.
"What can you tell us about the Lost Dialogue of Plato?"
Professor Sternhart smiled. "Well, I'm the one who translated it; I can tell you that much. I'd worry you're here to steal my last copy, but I'm afraid a gentleman called 'Mr Smith' beat you to it."
"Kerner!" hissed Indy. That's three times, he thought. No-one put one over Indiana Jones three times and heard the last of it. Except maybe Sophia here, he thought bitterly.
"What can you tell us about 'Mr Smith'?" asked Indy.
"He showed up about a week ago," volunteered Sternhart. "A tall man with a German accent and a pistol. He could have taken all my souvenirs, but he only wanted the Lost Dialogue." Indy clicked his teeth in frustration.
"Bwwaaaaakk!" said the parrot, behind Sternhart.
"Can you tell us something about the temple, Professor Sternhart?" asked Sophia.
"Glad you asked," said Professor Sternhart, before launching enthusiastically into what was obviously his pet research project. "The locals claim Mayan Indians built it. Now I ask you, does this look like the work of primitive savages?" He pointed to the temple, which towered above them from this vantage point. "Or does it seem much too civilised?"
"Actually, Professor Sternhart," said Sophia respectfully, "we were hoping to find some evidence of Atlantis here."
"Evidence is easy, you're surrounded by it," said Sternhart dismissively. "Proof...now that's hard."
"Does this mean we came to the wrong place?" asked Indy.
"I've pretty much lost hope myself," agreed Sternhart. "But old legends and rumours die hard."
Indy's ears pricked up. Legends have to start somewhere, and usually with a grounding in fact...
"What rumours?" he asked.
"Local legend has it that the temple was built by men-who-are-not-men."
Men-who-are-not-men ... beings not of this earth ... Indy mused silently.
"What are men-who-are-not-men?" he asked.
"Who knows?" asked Sternhart wearily. "I've heard everything from giant men with snakes for tails to giant snakes with men for heads."
"Do you actually believe Atlanteans lived here?" asked Sophia.
"After the city sank, this is where they came, I'm sure," said Sternhart. Indy turned to Sophia.
"Sounds reasonable. Told you the Atlanteans'd be much happier living in a decent climate."
"Sure, Indy," said Sophia. "Professor Sternhart, may we look inside the temple?"
Professor Sternhart scoffed. "How do I know you're not a pair of silly tourists? I only show the temple to reputable scholars."
Indy was rankled. "I'm Dr Indiana Jones, is that scholarly enough?" he replied, stung.
"Indiana?" queried Sternhart sarcastically. "Sounds like the name of one of your states, or possibly a cat."
"Actually, it was a dog," volunteered Sophia.
"Sophia!" said Indy, irritated further. He turned back to Sternhart.
"We'd really like to explore the temple," said Indy earnestly.
"Tell me the name of the Lost Dialogue of Plato," countered Sternhart.
"Excuse me," said Indy. He turned to Sophia. "Do you know the title?" he whispered.
"Of course not!" whispered Sophia. "I've never actually seen a copy."
Indy turned to Sternhart. "I don't know the title," he said regretfully.
"TITLE!" said the parrot. "Braaaaaawk!"
Sternhart spoke. "Well, at least you're an honest man." He turned and walked back behind the temple.
Indy was still staring at the parrot. Any doubts as to what he might be thinking could be easily eliminated upon hearing him whisper "you know, it's crazy...but it just might work!"
Indiana Jones walked over to the parrot. On the whole, he liked parrots. They weren't especially vindictive to humans, except when juicy fat fingers were proffered, and anyone sticking their fingers up a parrot's gullet deserved all they got, thought Indy. Funny, though. He'd known for years how they were renowned for their ability to recall human phrases, but he'd never actually spoken to one before.
Indy stopped under the parrot, and craned his head upward. "Title?" he asked gingerly. No, it'll never work, fool idea to...
"HERMOCRATES!" said the parrot. "Braaaaaaaawk!
Indy blinked.
"Well, I've never seen that one before," said Sophia behind him. "So that's how you made all those important discoveries."
Indy turned to her. "Sure thing," he said confidently. "That's why I like the tropics, y'know. There's parrots." He cocked his head toward the temple. "Sternhart!" he called out in a loud, clear voice.
Sternhart bustled around the corner, looking slightly peeved. "What is it this time?" he asked when he got within range.
"Can we see the inside of the temple?" asked Indy.
"Tell me the name of the Lost Dialogue of Plato."
"The Hermocrates," said Indy with a great deal of satisfaction.
Sternhart blinked. "That's it!"
"THAT'S IT!" echoed the parrot. "Braaaaaaaaaawk!"
"Well, now," continued Sternhart, "perhaps I was wrong. You seem to know what you're doing. Walk this way, please." Sternhart walked off.
Sophia paused. "I don't trust this guy, Indy," she said softly.
"I know what you mean," said Indy.
Sternhart beckoned to them from the entrance. "Come on!"

They walked into a wide, dusty passageway of stone blocks. It was cool here, but the light from the doorway provided enough illumination to make out both ends of the tunnel.
"Here we are," said Sternhart. "See what you can do."
Indy walked into the tunnel. At one end he could see what appeared to be a stone elephant head, minus the trunk, and a stone recess. He looked at the recess intently. Sophia took an interest in the elephant.
In the recess were two large stone slabs, with spiral designs etched on either side. Indy wiped his brow, and started examining the spiral designs. The silence down here was still and complete, disturbed only slightly when Sternhart or Sophia moved. Indy was too lost in discovery to take notice anyway.
Indy ran his hands smoothly over the spiral etches, brushing away dirt and testing the depth. Soon his sensitive fingers found a deeper, more pronounced engravement. He looked at the spiral, which seemed somewhat darker than the rest. "This one looks more deeply etched," said Indy under his breath. In fact, he thought, it almost looks stuck on.
Indy ran his fingernails under the edge of the spiral design, which resembled an S in shape, trying to free it from the stone. However, years of tarnish had gummed up the contacts. Indy looked at the S critically, heart pumping at full volume. What he needed here was some oil...
"Sophia?" he called out loud. "Can we talk?"
Sophia walked over. "Indy? What's up?"
"Listen," said Indy, looking at Sternhart from the corner of his eye, "could you try and keep Sternhart occupied for a while?"
Sophia studied him, puzzled. "Okay, why?"
"You'll find out soon enough," promised Indy.
"Professor Sternhart?" said Sophia, raising her voice. "I'd like to speak with you." She wandered back to Sternhart and led him down the opposite end of the corridor.

While Sternhart's back was turned, Indy slipped out the entrance and back into the primal heat of the jungle. He jogged over to the TRINKETS stand and took the oil lamp, checking to see that it still had some oil - it did. Then he ran back to the tunnel entrance.

When Indy got back, he was relieved to see Sophia still had Sternhart's attention down the far end of the corridor. As he returned to the engravings, he heard Sternhart behind him. "Excuse me, won't you? Let's see what your friend here is up to." Sternhart walked back toward Indy and stood by the wall, watching him curiously. Still, thought Indy, may as well go through with it.
He took out the oil lamp and removed the cap.
"So you took my lamp, eh?" said Sternhart irascibly. "I hope you know what you're doing."
Indy pressed his index and middle finger together on his right hand and dipped them into the oil. He then applied the oil to the edge of spiral design, working the oil into the grooves. Sure enough...
"The oil ate away the tarnish!" said Indy as he finished the application.
"Remarkable!" exclaimed Sternhart.
Indy reached up to pry the spiral design out from the stone. It came out in his hands.
"Marvellous!" enthused Sternhart, being of the pip-pip, jolly good, spot of tea kind of English stock. Indy turned the thin stone spiral over in his hands, at a loss over what to do next.
"Here," indicated Sophia. Taking the spiral from Indy's hands, she hooked one end of it into the nose of the elephant statue, forming a rough approximation of a trunk.
"It fits perfectly!" said Indy excitedly, feeling the power of the build up.
"Amazing!" cried Sternhart.
"That's not all," said Sophia. "Watch this." She pulled the 'trunk' of the elephant so that it rotated upward through ninety degrees. Indy heard a low, growling rumble behind him, and the scrape of stone on stone. He turned, and the stone blocks of the antechamber had risen out of their place, allowing access to the inner chamber.
Inside, Indy could see the mummified husk of a body.
"Look at that!"
"Astonishing!" shouted Sternhart. With sudden, wiry speed, he dashed past Indy and Sophia to behold directly the tomb of ... who? An Atlantean King? Surely not.
Sternhart was nearly gabbling with excitement, his eyes darting from one corner of the tomb to the next. "Bless my soul. The tomb of an Atlantean King!" He rummaged inside the tomb briefly, then bent up and turned to Indy and Sophia, waving a round object ecstatically.
"Here's a small stone disk with lunar images of sea and land carved upon it. I do believe it's a Worldstone!"
"A what?" asked Indy.
"At last I have the thing!" cried Sternhart, ignoring him. "Goodbye, fellow seekers!" He made off down the tunnel with the same wiry speed that surprised them earlier.
"Wait!" shouted Indy. He set off after Sternhart, but before he could catch him Sternhart reached the far side of the tunnel, and disappeared through an unmarked stone door. The door clanked shut emphatically as Indy pulled up against it. He knew even before he began looking that there wouldn't be a handle or switch he could find.
"He got away!" said Sophia, disappointed.
"Yeah," said Indy. He walked back down the tunnel toward the tomb. Perhaps Sternhart had missed something. He looked so excited, anything's possible.
As he reached the tomb a sudden, unexpected smile broke on his face. "Hey..." said Indy softly.
Sophia caught the expression, and ran to catch up. "What?" she asked, puzzled.
"Look at the tomb," said Indy.
Sophia's breath caught momentarily. "An orichalcum bead! Too bad for Sternhart."
Indy pocketed the bead. "Well, it might come in handy. Where should we go to from here?"
Sophia thought for a moment. "How about that other fellow, the one who lives in the Azores? Only lead we've got right now." She dusted her pants down and made to head toward the exit. "Well, you coming?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure I am. And ... we'll probably take your route back to the Jeep."
Sophia smiled. "Of course."

The biplane made a perfect landing on the calm bay by the Azores' principal city, about two hours after midday. Indy found himself admiring the architecture of the place as the plane taxied toward the pier. The Portuguese owners of the Azore islands had built towns of white stucco, baked red clay roof tiles and stark Mediterranean shrubbery. Looking at the town he saw the closer, smaller houses clustered around the bottom, while some distance up the hill behind were the larger, more prosperous dwellings, spaced out more evenly. In between, of course, were the winding roads, white gravel paths, dead ends and any number of features that made this kind of place a town planners nightmare, but not a bad place at all for the inhabitants. You were always discovering new places, even when just going down to the grocers.
Indy and Sophia climbed out onto the pier and looked at the city, which framed itself against the dark green hills of the island's interior, beneath an impossibly pale blue sky. Perfection, thought Indy.
"We better catch a taxi - someone should be able to tell us where Costa is," said Sophia in an impatient voice.
"Isn't this just great?" responded Indy.
"What?" said Sophia.
"The roads, the hills, the white houses...it's just all so perfect. I'd like to live in a place like this when I retire."
Sophia gave Indy a very strange look. "Retire? Indiana Jones? I never thought I'd see the day."
"Well not now, of course," said Indy, looking across the skyline. "But for the future, well..."
Sophia wasted no more time, but started walking down the pier toward a row of waiting taxis. After a brief moment, Indy followed her, still looking around in wonderment. Sophia asked around until she found a driver who could take her to Costa, and they got in.
All the way to Costa's house, Indy commented on how great all the little roads were, and just look at those houses over there, what a view this place has got!, until the driver began to get annoyed and started driving more aggressively.
Sophia was just a bit worried about Indy at the moment. The Atlanteans didn't, as far as she knew, put curses on their tombs, but Indy's behaviour was getting a bit beyond the pale. "You know, Indy," she said to him when he finally paused for breath, "I think I'm seeing a side of you I haven't seen before."
Indy looked at her, and took a few deep breaths. "I'm getting overexcited, aren't I?"
"Just a bit. Well, actually, quite a lot. Can you try and keep it in check while we talk to Costa?"
"You know, I'm really looking forward to meeting Costa," enthused Indy. He caught Sophia's eye. "All right, I'll keep my cool," he sighed.
The taxi pulled up. Sophia paid the driver, not bothering to haggle. The driver drove away with a big smile on his face, leaving Sophia and Indy at the foot of a flight of white marble stairs leading up toward what might be, for the extremely well off, be termed a front porch.
"This is his house?" wondered Indy aloud. There were, in distant times when the British Empire was the world, giant mansions which might belong to an army general, or wealthy philanthropist living in tropical climes. This house looked like those. Double storeys fronted the street, with row on row of white, arched windows. The walls were a polished, marbled white, with dark brown bordering strips. From one side to another, Indy estimated a width of maybe a hundred feet. And here it was, directly fronting the street. It didn't look to be in its correct habitat. A house like this should be hidden behind several acres of well tended grass and orchids. It gave Indy to wonder - what manner of palatial mansions were ensconced deeper into those green hills?
"This is it," said Sophia, walking up the stairs.
She had reached the top when Indy exclaimed behind her, "Look at the view from here!" He was looking back to the bay, and indeed from this position one could see most of the city below. The impression gained was one of a busy, happy community.
"Indy!" sighed Sophia, exasperated.
"Sorry," said a voice from down below. Soon Indy's face appeared as he reached the top. "Are you sure this is Costa's house?" he asked.
"Pretty sure. I've never actually met him, but this looks like his style."
"Should I knock, then?"
"Got any better ideas?"
Indy shrugged, and walked over to the thick wooden doors, inlaid with bronze. He knocked, making a hollow booming that seemed to reverberate across the street. There was some noise and movement inside the house. "Keep your shirt on!" cried an ancient and irritable voice.
"Be careful, Indy, humour him," reminded Sophia.
"Trust me," replied Indy.
The door in front of Indy opened a fraction, enough for a small wizened man to poke his head out at him. Indy risked a glance behind the man - all he could see was a dark brown bookshelf, leather chair and a woven rug on the floor. "I suppose you're selling something," said Costa. He sounded like he looked - old. "If it's not a priceless artefact, I don't want it."
"I hear you know something about Plato's Lost Dialogue," began Indy. Are you going to cooperate? he wondered silently. Please do.
"Maybe so, maybe no," rejoined Costa. "Who are you?"
"I'm Indiana Jones," said Indy.
"I'm Costa," said Costa, "and I'm tired of talking to you. Good day."
The door closed in his face.
It opened again.
"Indiana? What kind of stupid name is that?"
It shut again.
"Nice going, Indy," said Sophia. "I could have done better, any day." She turned and looked pensively out at the ocean.
Indy walked back from the door. "Yeah, sure."
Sophia turned back to face him. "You just don't know how to deal with an equal, do you? Face it, Jones."
This was getting too laden for Indy. He retreated to safe ground. "How'd we get mixed up with this screwball anyway?" One of Indy's many tricks was to play cute. Quite often it worked; as now.
"The screwball in Iceland, remember?" said Sophia sympathetically.
"Here, you talk to the man!" said Indy. "I've dealt with enough of these people for today!"
"My pleasure," said Sophia. Indy backed away from the door as she walked forward, adjusted her hair and blouse momentarily, and knocked on the door. "Professor Costa?" she cried out in a shrill, clear voice.
"Keep your shirt on!" replied Costa again. Sophia looked at Indy.
"He's a touchy old bird," replied Indy with a slight chuckle.
"Watch and learn, Dr Jones," said Sophia.
She turned back to the door just as it opened and Mr Costa stuck his head out. Wizened and hunchbacked as he was, Professor Costa was at perfect eye level. "Well, hello, beautiful!" he said, his tone friendly, and opened the door further. Mr Costa then walked slowly out into the sunshine, brandishing a twisted, gnarled cane for support. In the open he looked even older, though maybe not any wiser.
"Professor Costa? My name is Sophia Hapgood," said Sophia, her voice dripping awe and respect. Indy was impressed. Then again, maybe this was just her normal voice and she saved the nails and sticks for Jonesy.
"Madame Sophia?" asked Costa, incredulous. "The renowned psychic?"
Indy groaned and put a hand over his eyes. Just my luck, he thought, stuck with a sidekick who's more famous than I am. We could have a serious leadership crisis coming up here.
"I hope my friend didn't pester you too much," said Sophia concernedly.
"He's a friend of yours?" asked Costa, even more incredulous. Indy winced. "Well no, he didn't pester me that much."
"He just has to learn to be more tactful," said Sophia. Sure, thought Indy. Kick me while I'm down!
"You said it!" said Costa, joining in.
"Actually," said Sophia, warming to the task, "he was named after the family dog."
Correction, now they're kicking me while I'm down, thought Indy. "Sophia!" he barked, then realised the wrong choice of verb.
"See?" said Sophia, smiling at Costa, and Indy knew that none of that smile was being manufactured - it was all genuine.
"Hmm...I see," said Costa.
Sophia felt that it was time to go for the big ones. "What can you tell us about Plato's Lost Dialogue?" she asked evenly.
"What do you want to know?" responded Costa.
"Do you have it?" asked Sophia, hopeful.
"Nope," said Costa.
"Have you read it?" asked Sophia.
"Nope," said Costa.
"Do you know what's in it?"
"Nope."
"Can you get it for me?"
"Nope."
"Do you-", Sophia paused as she struggled to think of a question she hadn't asked yet, "-do you know where we could find it?"
Costa thought for a bit. "Well now," he began slowly, and Indy felt a warm glimmer of hope. "I might trade the information for a rare Atlantean artefact, such as a certain Necklace I've heard about."
That touched a raw nerve with Sophia. "I'll never trade away my necklace!" she said emphatically.
"Well, then," said Costa, "if that's how you feel, surprise me."
"Would you do business with my friend here?" asked Sophia, pointing at Indy, who was looking for a nearby hole to hide in.
"That depends what he has to offer," responded Costa. "Madame, I'll do business with anyone!"
"Thanks for your help," said Sophia, finally admitting defeat. "Goodbye for now."
"At your command, Madame," said Costa respectfully. He walked indoors. "Don't be a stranger, now!" he admonished before shutting the door.
"Well he was a great help," said Indy. "Where are we going to find a rare Atlantean artefact from?"
Sophia stared at him briefly then ran down the steps.
"What?" cried Indy, startled. "Where are you going?" Then it hit him.
The Jastro Expedition!
Indy set off in pursuit of Sophia.

"Iceland again," moaned Indy as he and Sophia struggled against the fierce northerly toward the cave mouth. "Doesn't this place ever have fine weather?"
"There's the thermal springs near Reykjavik," responded Sophia through clenched teeth. "But that's not what we're after, is it?"
"If this weather keeps up, we soon will be."
They reached the cave mouth and quickly darted inside. Here, at least, they were sheltered from the wind. Indy shoved his hands into his armpits and tried to rub them warm.
Sophia looked more at ease. "Remember Indy, try to be tactful this time. You'd be surprised how far a gentle voice and manners'll get you."
Indy recalled their last visit with Dr Heimdall. Dr Heimdall was a short, pugnacious archaeologist, and had a possessive streak that reminded Indy of himself. "I don't think he'll be that willing to just hand over the artefact he was excavating. I'd punch him, " Indy winced, "but I'm afraid my hand'll shatter."
They were about halfway down the tunnel passage when Sophia looked forward. She gasped. "What?" said Indy, and followed her gaze. "Oh."
Not far ahead, Dr Heimdall was sitting down wearily, his head between his hands. He was not moving. He was, in fact, frozen solid. Indy and Sophia walked forward slowly. The skin across Heimdall's face had gone a deep blotched blue. Icicles and small droplets of ice hung from his hair and eyebrows. His expression, however, was almost peaceful. Like he was sleeping. "A little too dedicated to his work, maybe," said Indy grimly.
"Poor Heimdall," said Sophia, sombre.
Indy turned from Heimdall's stiff body and looked at the artefact he'd been examining. "Look," he said to Sophia, who was still staring at Heimdall. "He managed to chip free a bit of the relic. Looks like an eel's head." Indy looked at what he'd first thought was a coiled snake, trapped behind permafrosted ice. Now, with the head of the thing poking out from the blue ice, Indy could see it was actually an eel. "Why an eel? They're not native to Iceland."
"Because this artefact isn't native to Iceland either, is it?" said Sophia, joining him. "It's Atlantean." She bent past Indy to look closer at the eel head. "Look at the mouth - there's a small opening."
"It's going to take a long time to pull this out of the ice," said Indy, "and we're not prepared for this kind of work."
"Hush!" said Sophia. "I've got an idea. Pass me that orichalcum bead, would you?"
Indy passed it to her. "This is our only bead, you know."
Sophia took the bead in her fingertips and placed it into the open mouth of the eel. "It fits perfectly!"
There was a brilliant flash of yellow light. The ice around the statue began to hiss, and droplets of water started to hit Indy in the face. They were warm. Now steam was starting to rise from the ice wall. Indy and Sophia watched, amazed. The steam began to gather into a huge cloud, momentarily obscuring the eel from view. The ice was hissing madly. Indy's face was wet with condensation. Finally, the steam began to dissipate. Indy shook his head, and looked at the eel.
"It melted itself right out of the ice!" he exclaimed. "Clever."
Indy reached out for the eel, bracing himself for the expected flash temperature. When he finally touched the statue, however, it was cool. Indy turned it over in his hands, marvelling.
"Looks like a bronze coil," commented Sophia. "Look at the workmanship and curvature!" The spiral concatenations were indeed somehow perfectly curved, as if they were faultless mathematical curves.
Indy put the bronze coil into his jacket. "Come on," he said. "Let's get back to Costa."

"Well, now. That is interesting," said Costa the next day, looking closely as Indy showed him the bronze eel.
It hadn't taken much work to get to this stage. When Costa first answered the door, however, he was as irritable as ever. "You again? What do you want?"
Indy asked if he was interested in a trade.
"Okay," agreed Costa. "Watcha got?" Boy, thought Indy, Sophia sure softened him up. Indy showed him the bronze eel.
Costa took it from his hands, and turned it over slowly. The bronze curves caught the light of the sun, now setting over in the west. "Okay, Mister, you got yourself a deal!" said Costa. He came out into the light of the dying sun. "Now listen carefully. I don't know exactly where to find it, but the Lost Dialogue of Plato is in the Ward collection. Got that?"
"The Ward collection..." mused Indy softly, rubbing his chin.
"Very good," Costa said. "Nice doing business with you." He went inside, a shut the door. Indy walked over to Sophia.
"You know, Sophia? I think Barnett College owns the Ward collection!" Good old Caswell hall, he thought to himself.
"Come on, then," said Sophia. They skipped down the white steps, their shadows long and dark behind them.

At about this time, though removed from them by several thousands of miles, Dr Ubermann was working alone in a research laboratory in Germany. The laboratory itself was impressive, looking like Frankenstein's chamber rebuilt for the concrete age. Flasks held mysterious bubbling fluids, which burbled along rubber tubes to other flasks, arranged in complex, pyramid like structures. Giant electricity generators hummed away against one concrete wall. Dr Ubermann himself was testing a gieger counter when at the top of the stairs the door burst open and Klaus Kerner strode in, in full Nazi regalia.
"Doctor Ubermann!" he called out loudly, and began to descend the cast iron stairs, his boots clanking against the wire mesh. "Fantastic news!"
Dr Ubermann left his observations, putting his pen into his white lab coat, and walked into to the centre of the room, which held his main equipment table. He was a short man, made shorter by a slight hunch to his shoulders. He had thinning white hair and wore thick glasses, indeed, looked something like Felipe Costa. "Kerner...At last!" he called out in a German accent even thicker than Kerner's. His voice seemed to bubble behind several layers of fat which had congealed in his throat. You expected him to start coughing up reams of phlegm at any moment.
Kerner stood triumphantly on the other side of the table. "See what Herr Jones has kindly provided." He produced the Atlantean statuette onto the table.
Dr Ubermann peered over his glasses at the relic. "What on earth?"
Kerner crossed his arms. "Isn't it amazing!"
Dr Ubermann crossed the table to stand directly opposite Kerner. "You fool!" he berated. "You've come back to show me this...this...this..." Words failed his anger. Dr Ubermann waved his arms about. "This prehistoric knick-knack?!"
Kerner stood still, patiently. "Herr Doctor, I believe this 'knick-knack', as you call it, comes from the Lost City."
"Then we have failed!" cried Dr Ubermann. "I see no evidence here of the magical metal Plato called orichalcum!"
"Look here," directed Kerner, pointing at the base of the statue. "Concealed in the base of the statue is a small shiny bead." He took out the bead and handed it to Dr Ubermann. Dr Ubermann took it and peered at it closely. He regained some of his composure.
"Und it glitters like fire!" he said. "Exactly as Plato described!"
"It's my guess we've found the treasure we seek," said Kerner behind him.
"Scientists never guess!" said Dr Ubermann crossly. "We must test!" He put the bead onto the table and reached up for two electrical probes, which connected to the main generators. He pulled down one in each hand, and placed them on opposite sides of the bead.
As soon as contact was made, the lights in the laboratory dimmed. Small energy surges appeared around the probes in Dr Ubermann's hands. Dr Ubermann's face was lit up by a deepening orange glow as small lightning bolts coalesced around the orichalcum bead. He leered madly.
"Mein gott!" cried out Kerner beside him. Dr Ubermann turned and saw similar lightning bolts girdling the spherical stand at the far end of the table. Red flames caught within its centre. Dr Ubermann boggled as the glass cracked, and then blew outward in a sudden explosion. From within the shattered globe, a small, self contained sphere of energy rose slowly. It orbited around the room randomly, casting out orange light, and shorted out.
Dr Ubermann grinned. "We've done it!" he shouted. "The energy of uranium, without any radioactivity! And those smug American scientists know nothing!"
Kerner brushed his hair back and stepped forward. "That gives me an idea!" He picked up the orichalcum bead - it was cool to the touch. "Suppose we place the bead inside the statue's open mouth?" Before Dr Ubermann could react, Kerner popped the orichalcum bead inside its mouth.
The statue immediately emitted a high buzzsaw whine. It began to circle around on the table top, sailed over the edge, and followed random spirals along the floor, yet somehow managing to avoid hitting anything. Intelligence? wondered Dr Ubermann.
Without warning, the statue immediately picked up speed and sped off to the left. Kerner's gaze whipped round. There was a louder, squalling noise as the statue drilled straight through the reinforced concrete. The noise stopped, with the statue having bored through one metre of the bunker wall.
Dr Ubermann wandered over to the hole, which was roughly the shape and size of a mouse hole, and peered at it.
"Did you see that?" asked Kerner behind him, his voice full of wonder and contemplation. "Think of trucks powered by these beads! Think of tanks! Think of airplanes!" Kerner's right eye started flickering.
"Use your imagination, Kerner!" admonished Dr Ubermann, disappointed with Kerner's line of thought. "Think Big like the Americans!" He raised his arms emphatically. "Think of bombs!"

It was early the next morning. Indy and Sophia pulled up outside Barnett College, having used the flight to catch up on some sleep. The day was bright and clear.
Indy led Sophia into the lobby of Caswell Hall. It was, again, deserted.
"So, why are you dragging me in here?" asked Sophia as they entered the lobby.
"This is Caswell Hall," said Indy. "We store all our junk here."
"You think the Lost Dialogue of Plato is junk?" asked Sophia in a serious voice.
"I believe it's as real as Atlantis," responded Indy neutrally.
"All right, Mr Cynic, start searching. I'll meet you in your office." She turned and left the lobby.
"Call for help if I'm not back in two hours!" shouted Indy as she left. Alone now, he walked to the stairwell. The Ward collection... thought Indy, indecisive. Perhaps I should start with the library. He took the flight up.
The shelves here were still stocked, so he started with them. Unfortunately, they were all textbooks. Indy glanced at the lone bookshelf - perhaps it contained the Ward collection. He walked over, cautiously, and examined the back of the shelf. Near the top, a marking said: DUNLOP COLLECTION.
Natch.
Indy gave a mildly hateful glare at the bookshelf, then walked over toward the trapdoor in the ceiling. He looked at the floor - he could still see his imprint in the dust. The thick hessian rope was dangling from the trapdoor. He gave it an experimental pull - it seemed to be anchored securely. Of course, it would be - the totem pole fell on it.
Avoiding sudden, jerky movements, Indy slowly pulled himself up the rope.
He scrambled for the edge of the trapdoor with his right hand, pulled himself up, and sat on the edge for a few moments while his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he got his breath back. And I thought I was keeping in shape, thought Indy. He stood up and walked over to the shelves.
"Hmm, beadwork from the Phoenix Collection," muttered Indy as he searched around. "And textiles from the Shawmut Collection." He couldn't see a Ward Collection anywhere. A large box backed against the shelves caught his eye. Maybe behind there...
He pushed it to one side. Behind the crate was a dusty wooden chest, which part of the Sprague Collection. There was nothing else. Indy turned away, disappointed. He walked over to the trapdoor and started climbing down.
At the bottom, Indy turned around aimlessly for a while, at a loose end. "Could be downstairs," he surmised, and went to the exit.

Indy opened the door to the furnace room and walked to the coal bin, shielding his face from the radiant heat of the central heating furnace. He bent over and looked up the coal chute. Up there was Caswell Hall's most inaccessible storage room. It was hardly ever used now.
Indy looked at the coal stacked in the bin. He looked at his clothes. He looked up the chute. Reaching a decision, he planted one foot on the rim of the bin and climbed up. Now standing on the coal, he put a foot onto the coal chute to walk up it. It slipped on the smooth-as-Teflon surface. Indy's foot went out as he tumbled backwards into the coal bin. There was a loud crashing noise. Indy lay there motionless, thinking how his backside (or blackside, he thought wittily), looked. Sophia would be in gales of laughter now. Rising, he began to crawl belly-first up the chute.

Five minutes later, and he had reached the top. Indy stood at the mouth of the coal chute, checking his clothing. There was black dust everywhere. Still, it'd brush off with time, and only go to improve the worn-and-torn look of his apparel. Having mollified himself, Indy walked into the dim room. His attention was caught by the now-three cat figurines lined on the table, facing him.
Indy had a sudden rush of intuition. No...
But yes. Written on a tag attached to one of the ebony wax cats, was WARD COLLECTION.
Indy scratched his head. He couldn't immediately see how Plato's Lost Dialogue fitted in here. Fitted in...
His gaze was caught by the left cat idol, which looked different to the other two. Perhaps...fatter? Indy was starting to get an idea.
He picked up the cat idol, nursing it gently in his left arm, and walked back to the coal chute. Taking no chances, Indy sat down and slid down the chute, feeling momentarily ridiculous, and stood at the bottom. Indy climbed out of the bin and looked at the furnace.
He placed the cat figurine on top of the furnace.
Before too long, small runnels of wax began to pool at the base of the cat. The cat began to smoke slightly - the smell was reminiscent of incense. Larger chunks of the wax began to slide down toward the furnace hotplate.
A particularly large portion of the head split off and slid down, and Indy could see yellowing paper sticking through.
Yes.
Indy remained silent, awe-struck. He'd told Sophia that he believed the Lost Dialogue of Plato was as real as Atlantis, and he'd meant it at the time. And now the Lost Dialogue was appearing before his very eyes.
Still, he didn't give any truck to this whats-his-face Nur-Ab-Sal fellow. Sophia was just a little bit touched in the head, there.
Transfixed, Indy watched as more of the wax melted away. There was a large black pool on the surface of the furnace, which threatened to run over the edge. Indy was unconcerned about the safety of the Lost Dialogue - the furnace plate was hot enough to melt wax, but below the flash point at which paper caught fire.
Within minutes, the cat had melted away. Indy reached up and took the Lost Dialogue of Plato in his hands - it was fairly thin, and wax free, thanks to the cat being hollow. There were also, at certain stages in the text, paperclips indicating pertinent pages. Indy opened the book to the first page.

Now at last I have the Lost Dialogue of Plato translated entirely.
The Greek original is lost, so I've used an Arabian manuscript I found in an Italian
monastery years ago and always thought was a hoax.
Now I wonder...could this remarkable book hold the key to long-lost Atlantis?

Probably not. No one will publish it, that's for certain. The fear of ridicule is too great.


To be safe, I've sent a copy to Ward.

Charles Sternhart
London, 1922

Indy yawned. Sternhart, gabbling on as usual. He turned to the first marked page.

HERMOCRATES:
In shame I hereby do recant the time and place of whereof Critias spoke. In rendering Egyptian into Greek he made a tenfold error.
Instead of lying 3,000 miles hence, Atlantis may well have been 30,000 miles. Or perhaps it was less than 300 miles from our shores. Likewise, it may be that the Lost Kingdom held sway as long as 100,000 years ago, or as few as 1,000.
SOCRATES:
If a kingdom arose upon earth beyond anywhere men might travel, then we should never hear of it. We ought to accept the lesser figure.

Tenfold error? thought Indy. He looked at the page for a while, memorising its contents, then turned to the next marked page. This looked promising...

...So glorious Atlantis founded two colonies, the Lesser 350 miles north of the City, and the Greater 380 miles to the south.
Gates of the kingdom opened only with the aid of special stones.
At many outposts, a Sunstone sufficed, if morning light warmed the tall horns.
At the Greater Colony a Moonstone was also needed, with the noon sun riding above the full moon.
To approach Atlantis itself a Worldstone was also required, with the dying orbs plummeting into the eastern sea.
Final entranced yielded only to contrary minds.

"So that's what the Worldstone was!" said Indy, dismayed. Bugger that Sternhart, he thought viciously. He turned to the next paperclip.

...and it is said that dwellers of Atlantis had no horses nor any need of them.
Orichalcum, the metal that glittered like fire, this they had instead. They cast it into shiny beads and used them as we do minted coins, paying statues to do their work as if by magic.
When their colonies were failing, wise men carved strange devices out of amber to search for the metal, but only proud Atlantis ever yielded a supply.
SOCRATES:
You have called the kingdom wealthy, but surely this is absurd.

Indy absorbed the information on orichalcum intently. As far as his experiences with the metal had gone so far, it looked accurate.

...As the waters rose around their city, the Kings of Atlantis, one after the other, sought to hold off fate.
Knowing mortal men would never rule the sea, they planned a huge colossus, which by use of orichalcum, ten beads at a time, would make them like the Gods themselves.
Nur-Ab-Sal was one such king. He it was, say the wise men of Egypt, who first put men in the colossus, making many freaks of nature when the celestial spheres were well aligned.
SOCRATES:
This I doubt. We are hearing a child's tale.

Indy closed the book, open mouthed.
How did she know? How on earth could Sophia have known about Nur-Ab-Sal?
Indy wasn't much good at telling the future, and, being of this nature, didn't believe those who claimed they were. However, as Indy stood there holding the book closed, he began to see a future in which he believed in tarot cards, black magic, and ten thousand year old ghost kings which talked to archaeologist-cum-psychics. It was a horrifying vision.
Still, there could be another explanation. There nearly always was.
Indy walked to the furnace room door and left for the entrance to Caswell Hall. His feelings of confusion and bewilderment gradually faded, as he began to anticipate the triumph of handing the Lost Dialogue to a for-once appreciative Sophia.

Sophia was standing by the window waiting impatiently when Indy opened the door to his office. She turned as he entered.
"I got it!" said Indy triumphantly. "I found Plato's Lost Dialogue!"
"Really?" asked Sophia, walking closer as he pulled it out from his jacket. Indy nodded.
"Our jungle friend Sternhart is quite the scholar," he said.
"Let me see!" demanded Sophia. Indy grinned and relented, handing the thin text over. He read over her shoulder as Sophia thumbed through the text, getting reacquainted with the material.
When Sophia finally reached the end and shut the book, the face she turned to Indy was blank. "I don't see how this will help us find Atlantis."
Indy was in no mood for trouble. "Isn't it obvious?"
"No!" responded Sophia regretfully. "It's much too vague. Our only hope is supernatural inspiration."
"You mean your old pal, Nur-Ab-Sal," said Indy.
"Yes, if I can make contact." She wandered into the centre of the room and resumed the shape Indy had seen her take in her office when she contacted Nur-Ab-Sal: the physical equivalent of a spiritual antenna. "Where's my spirit guide when I need him?"
"Come on, Sophia," said Indy earnestly. "It's all in here. Didn't you notice Plato's tenfold error?"
"Yeah, I did," responded Sophia truculently. "So he got his dates mixed up: so what?"
"If the dates are wrong," continued Indy along his line of reasoning, "distances could also be wrong. We may not find Atlantis in the Atlantic after all."
"Where then?" asked Sophia.
"If Plato is right, Atlantis is in the Mediterranean."
A thoughtful expression crossed Sophia's face. "You mean 300 miles from Greece instead of 3000?"
"Yes! The cradle of civilisation!"
"You could be right. He once told me he came from the centre of the world. That's what Mediterranean means!" Indy didn't have to be told who 'he' was.
"Good old Nur-Ab-Sal," smiled Indy, only slightly ironic. "I'm starting to like him."
"Wait! Quiet!" cried Sophia suddenly. She walked back into open space, and started with the eyes-shut, fingers-twiddling-upward routine. "I think I'm getting something!" Whatever it was, Indy was completely insensitive to it. He watched her, interested.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.
Sophia stopped and looked at him. "I'm fine. Dealing with Nur-Ab-Sal just takes a lot of energy, that's all. You probably wouldn't understand." She flicked at her hair.
"You're probably right," said Indy.
Sophia walked back to the table. "Now listen. Among the artefacts that Kerner stole from my office was a small stone disk with solar images carved upon it. I'm sure it was one of the three stones mentioned in the Lost Dialogue. And I didn't just find it." She looked out the window at verdant parkland, trying to remember. "I bought it, from Alain Trottier, in Monte Carlo." She paused.
"Haven't we talked to enough of these nutcases?" asked Indy. Sophia appeared not to notice. She was still looking out the window.
"Or was it Omar Al-Jabbar in Algiers?" She turned to Indy. "Either way, Algiers or Monte Carlo. This much I do know..." She crossed the table and faced Indy directly, her eyes earnest and convincing. "We'll need all three stones, if we want to find Atlantis."
"Well, all right," said Indy. "I'm ready to go right now."
"Not so fast," said Sophia. "First, I'm going to tell your fortune." She brought her face close to Indy's. "Look into my eyes," she intoned in a deep voice. Indy backed away. Sophia followed. "Deep into my eyes." Indy backed away again, unsure he wanted to get all psychic just now.
A look of frustration crossed over Sophia's face. "For Pete's sake," she said, irritated, "I'm not going to hurt you." Indy stopped still. "That's better," said Sophia.
When she managed to finally lock her eyesight with Indy, Sophia then shut her eyes and made circular motions with the palms of her hands, facing Indy. She tilted her head back slightly. "You are a remarkable man, Indiana Jones. You possess great strength of character. You are resourceful. You trust others, and want them to trust you."
Sounds accurate enough, thought Indy modestly. Still, she did spend over a year with me. Even Sophia would have to pick something up over that period.
"The most promising path to Atlantis, therefore," continued Sophia, "is the path we must both take, together, as a team." She opened her eyes and looked at him.
Indy thought for a moment. She'd helped him deal with Costa, and Sternhart. And maybe the necklace would come in handy.
"Okay. I'm convinced. You can come along."
"Then let's go, partner," said Sophia pointedly.
"Not that I need your help much, mind," said Indy quickly. "But Nur-Ab-Sal would come in handy."
Sophia made as if to hit him.
Indy walked to the door, grinning. "Don't get any funny ideas. I'll be running the show."
Sophia turned a dewy, adoring face toward him. "You make it sound soo romantic." She flashed her eyelashes at him.
Got me again, thought Indy. "Well, come on."

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