Part 1: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

PART III

WESTERN MEDITERRANEAN

Their flight to Algiers, booked at hasty notice, touched down just after one o-clock.
Indy grimaced momentarily as they disembarked, then drew himself up proudly. Sophia was panting slightly beside him. "What are you, impervious to being boiled or something?"
"Great thing, heat," responded Indy as they walked out into the less-than-busy streets. "Keeps us alive, for one thing."
"Everyone's indoors," commented Sophia. "Smart people."
"Where will we find this Omar Al-Jabbar, then?" asked Indy.
"I'm not entirely sure," said Sophia. "I've never actually met Omar. We did all our correspondence by mail. All I really know is that he owns a artefact shop off the town square."
"That looks like it, up ahead," said Indy.
They emerged into an open space. Clustered around the edge of the square were a number of fruit and produce stores. Nothing, really, that looked like Omar or his shop.
"May as well start by asking around," said Indy. He spotted a beggar sitting down with a bowl and cane nearby, and walked over. "Hello there," he began.
The beggar turned his head upward and fixed two beady eyes on him. "Ah, a prosperous American."
"What are you doing on the streets?" asked Indy, and immediately felt silly for doing so.
"I'm a beggar, effendi," said the beggar patiently. "It's my job to be here. Today I'm offering a discount. Give me something to eat, and I'll give you a free gift." He looked at Indy, perhaps trying to figure out how generous he was.
"Do you know an Omar Al-Jabbar?" asked Indy, changing the subject.
"Omar's one of my best customers," said the beggar brightly. "His shop is on the other side of the marketplace."
"Sorry to bother you," said Indy apologetically.
"No bother, effendi," said the beggar politely. "Now let me get back to work, please." Indy walked back to Sophia, and pointed to the other side of the square.
"Over there." They set off.
On the other side of the marketplace were several grey walls, and an alleyway. Sophia looked at him. "May as well take it," said Indy, and started down the cooler alleyway. It led them to a secluded, open air courtyard. Pots and clay jars were scattered across the ground. Several shelves had been set up against the walls. One banner hung against the wall read: ARTIFACTS. Another: SOUVENIRS. And, standing in the centre of the merchandise watching them suspiciously, was a large Algerian in an awful looking striped purple and silver robe. He rapped his fingers together and waited for them to speak.
"Excuse me," began Indy.
"How can I help you, effendi?" responded the store owner. Indy studied him surreptitiously. Yes, he did look a bit like an Omar.
"Are you Mr Al-Jabbar?" asked Indy.
"I am but a humble shopkeeper," said the shopkeeper in his low voice. "My name is unimportant." Suspicious way to say no, thought Indy. He could see the same doubt in Sophia's eyes.
Indy put his hands on his hips in a no-nonsense-please stance. "Do you ever deal in antiquities from Atlantis?"
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," replied the shopkeeper evasively. "Many a fool dreams of the Lost Kingdom. How may I know your intentions are serious?" He put his palms together and started twiddling his fingers again, gazing at them intently.
"I've got a Ph.D. Will that do?" asked Indy, unsure what token the shopkeeper expected.
"Ha ha ha," laughed the shopkeeper. "You have quite a sense of humour, I see." He resumed watching them.
"I'm not sure I know what you mean," said Indy defensively, a bit put out by the implied insult in the shopkeeper's last remark.
"I need to know you are serious about Atlantis," replied the shopkeeper. "For professional reasons, you know. For instance: it is said that three stone circles are needed to open the gates of Atlantis." The shopkeeper folded his arms and glared at them. "Show me one of these, if you can."
"I saw one, once," replied Indy, grasping at a straw, "but someone stole it."
"That's too bad," said the shopkeeper unsympathetically. "I don't discuss the Lost Kingdom with amateurs."
Indy turned to leave. As he did, however, a large ceremonial mask hung from a peg caught his eye. Hmmm... it looked like the mask that Sophia used in 'Nur-Ab-Sal'. And like the 'ghost' they saw in her study. "Funny," said Indy to Sophia, "it looks like that 'ghost' we saw in your study."
"That 'ghost' was Nur-Ab-Sal," replied Sophia coldly.
Indy looked at the shopkeeper. "How much for this mask?"
"You can take the worthless thing," replied the shopkeeper smartly. "It's scaring away all my best customers."
"I can understand that," said Indy, looking at the hideous features of the mask. He brought it down from the peg and stuffed it into his jacket. The fit was uncomfortable - jagged edges kept poking him in the ribs.
"Come on, Sophia," said Indy. "I guess it's Alain Trottier."

They landed in Monte Carlo that evening. Sophia led Indy around the twisting streets of Monte Carlo until they came to the awning of Hotel Du Pont. The streets all around were bustling. "Here we are," said Sophia as they stopped by the glass doors leading into the hotel.
"I had no idea Monte Carlo was the Lost City," said Indy as he watched passers-by.
"Don't start with me, Indy," said Sophia. "It's Trottier we're after."
"What makes you think we'll find him here? Booked into the Hotel Du Pont for a while, is he?" Indy was surprised at the venomous sarcasm he was ejecting. You're not concerned about it, are you? asked a small voice in his mind.
Sophia looked to be too tired to take much notice. "All his letters mention how much he likes strolling under the bright lights."
"That's a bit thin, isn't it?" asked Indy critically. The first part of Sophia's sentence hit him. "Letters? Do you actually know what Trottier looks like?"
"How should I know what he looks like?" snapped Sophia. "I've never actually met him. We did all our business by mail."
Indy decided to act slightly more conciliatory. Just for a moment, the spectre of the Jastro Expedition reared its ugly head. "Supposing Trottier shows up, what then?" he asked in a civil tone.
"Bring him up to my room," said Sophia promptly. Indy's right eyebrow shot up. "For a seance," said Sophia, exasperated.
"Hmmm, okay," said Indy. "This plan sounds kinda hare-brained to me."
"Trust me," persuaded Sophia. "It'll work. He used to have one of the three stones. If I can coax him into a seance, he might let us have it!"
"If Mr Sal helps out, of course."
Sophia tossed her hair. "I'll go get ready." She walked up the steps, opened the glass doors, and left Indy alone outside, trying to find a person he'd never met before. Indy sighed.
He walked over to a middle aged man striding briskly along the pavement. "Err, excuse me, are you Alain Trottier?" asked Indy uncertainly.
"No," said the man, and walked off.
Indy turned to someone behind him. "Would you be Alain Trottier by any chance?"
"Sorry, no"
After about five minutes of this Indy changed tack, and started asking people if they knew Alain Trottier, thus maybe elicit more information from them. He was three minutes down this luckless path when an older, balding man in a brown suit answered brusquely, "Umm, perhaps, who's asking?"
Indy felt suddenly weary. Looking at the imperious man before him, he thought it might be best to go with the modest, self-effacing personality he occasionally used.
"I'm Dr Indiana Jones of Barnett College," he said.
The man looked into the middle distance. "Jones...Jones...Jones....yes, I believe I've heard of you. Ah, of course! The famous archaeologist!"
"Actually, I'm just a simple scholar," said Indy modestly.
The man smiled. "Leave the modesty to me. Alain Trottier, amateur scholar, part-time poet, professional dreamer." We've got him, thought Indy. No wonder he and Sophia did so much correspondence sound together. They sound like a couple made for each other.
Trottier looked at him closely, as if confiding in him a great secret. "Adding up today's date and my birthday foretold extraordinary events on the boulevard tonight. And here I bump into you - what good fortune!" Ye gods, thought Indy, he's worse than Sophia. This plan of hers might work after all.
"What can you tell me about Atlantis?" asked Indy, keeping his voice calm.
"That depends," said Trottier suspiciously. "I fear German agents are on my trail." Indy felt a small stab of fear - and anger. How far ahead were the Germans? Maybe they'd found Atlantis already. No, thought Indy, when they find Atlantis we'll probably know immediately. "To prove you're not one of them," continued Trottier, "answer me this: When were the many freaks of nature created?"
The question was easy. "When the celestial spheres were well aligned," quoted Indy from the Lost Dialogue.
"Yes! Excellent!" exclaimed Trottier. "Obviously, you know Plato's Lost Dialogue well. How can I help you, Dr Jones?"
Indy pointed a thumb at the doors behind him. "Madame Sophia is in town and would like a reading."
"Madame Sophia?" asked Trottier. "The famous psychic?"
Why does everyone keep saying that? thought Indy. Apart from Trottier here, no one's gone to the trouble of saying "Aah, Dr Jones! The famous archaeologist! Please come in! etc,"
A troubled expression was on Trottier's face. "This is a big step," he said, worried. "I'm not sure..."
You need help, pal, and she'd better than any psychiatrist. Indy momentarily amused himself with the idea of actually saying that, then said "Come on, take a chance. She's right here in the hotel."
"Well," said Trottier slowly, "I do need a new spirit guide in my life, and my horoscope points to good fortune tonight, so...I'll do it. Please lead the way."
Indy turned and walked inside, holding the door open for Trottier. After momentarily consulting the guest list and seeing Sophia Hapgood at the bottom, he led Trottier up two flights of stairs to Sophia's room.
He opened the door to the ensuite. Sophia had done rather well. The room in front of Indy was surprisingly roomy, yet intimate. A weaved rug lay on the floor. In the centre of the room was a circular table, with two seats. To the side, arched windows showcased the Monte Carlo skyline. At the back, Indy could see a bed, and a partition to the side. Sophia's probably behind there getting changed, he thought.
"Have a seat, Monsieur Trottier," said Indy, indicating the central table. Trottier entered and took the closest seat. "I'll go see if Madame Sophia is ready," said Indy. He walked over behind the partition.
Sophia had done herself up - the outfit was the same as at the Palais in New York. "Is he here?" she whispered in an urgent, nervous voice.
"Okay, Trottier's all yours," said Indy. He waited behind the wall as Sophia walked out and over to Trottier. He could just see Sophia here, but Trottier was hidden from view.
Sophia sat down. "Ah, Monsieur Trottier," she began grandly, "I'm so pleased to meet such an expert antiquarian at long last!"
"Madame flatters me," said Trottier modestly. "It is I who am pleased to meet you."
Sophia nodded. "Now then, Nur-Ab-Sal will require proof of your honest belief and dedication."
"Well," said Trottier slowly, "I have this stone key. I truly believe it is from the Lost City." There was a soft thump.
"Very good," said Sophia in contented tones. "Very good indeed." The Sunstone! thought Indy. "Now let's begin our communion with that great spirit, the mighty-"
Trottier interrupted. "Err, one moment Madame," he interjected, his voice suddenly suspicious. "We've never met before. How do I know you're not an imposter? If you really have psychic powers, tell me...why was I taking a stroll when I met Dr Jones?"
"How should I know?" said Sophia. Careful, thought Indy.
"Read my mind," offered Trottier. "Or, read Mr Jones's, if you prefer. I told him everything."
"Hmm. Let me think," said Sophia. She sat back in her chair. "Your horoscope told you to."
"Aaah," said Trottier, and Indy could hear the awe in his voice. "Most interesting. What is my greatest fear?"
Indy knew this one. He knelt down to a grate in the wall that passed directly to the main room. "Nazi agents!" he whispered as loudly as he dared.
"You fear Nazi agents," said Sophia. Indy let out a soft sigh of relief.
"Hmm, most interesting," said Trottier. "You don't say. What is my greatest need?"
"New spiritual adviser!" whispered Indy, still kneeling.
"You need a new spiritual adviser," said Sophia without a pause. Trottier sighed again.
"Ahh, most interesting. How many fingers am I holding up behind my back?"
Indy groaned and put his hand over his eyes. Trottier sure was suspicious!
Sophia, likewise, had had enough. "What kind of question is that?" she responded, annoyed. "The answer depends on pure chance!"
"Not if you're truly psychic," said Trottier. Yep, thought Indy, I was right. A true believer. "Don't worry, I won't cheat," continued Trottier. "How many fingers?"
"Well," said Sophia resignedly, "all I can do is try a wild guess." She sat back in the chair and folded her arms. "Three."
"I'm very disappointed, Madame," said Trottier sadly. "You have failed my little test."
"I'm afraid Nur-Ab-Sal is temperamental tonight," said Sophia. Indy was afraid it sounded to Trottier like it sounded to him: a stock excuse.
"Too bad," said Trottier. "Another time, perhaps." There was a slight scrape of stone on wood and then Indy heard Trottier stand up. "Au revoir, Madame." The door opened, and shut.
Indy left the small anteroom and returned to the table, where Sophia was getting out of the chair. "Guess I didn't pass the test," she said, offering Indy a half-hearted smile.
"I'll say!" agreed Indy. "I'm taking control of this team."
"I'm sorry, Indy," said Sophia.
Indy couldn't resist himself. "Nice going, Madame psychic." A look of annoyance clouded Sophia's face.
"Okay, next time you try it, wise guy! It's a lot harder than it looks, believe me."
"Gee, sounds like it's tough making a living as a psychic."
"I can't help it," said Sophia, spreading her arms outward. "Sometimes my spirit guide just doesn't show up. What more can I say?"
Indy thought for a moment. "Let's try again. Only this time, I'll try to think of something." He ran to the door and dashed out in pursuit of Trottier.

Indy caught up to Trottier just as he was preparing to leave the lobby. "Monsieur Trottier!" cried out Indy as Trottier pushed the glass door open. Trottier turned as Indy ran up. He looked a lot calmer.
"Well, hello again, Dr Jones. How can I help you?"
Trottier's friendly demeanour caught Indy off guard. Still, not as if Trottier had much reason to be upset with him. It was Sophia Trottier had been disappointed by. "Madame Sophia wants another seance."
"Well-" Trottier chuckled and winked at Indy "-she's a charming woman. So, I'll do it. Please lead the way."
Indy did so, wondering how on earth it had been so easy.

Once inside the suite, he showed Trottier to his seat and then wandered off to Sophia.
"Keep him busy," he whispered. "I'm going to try something."
"Give me a minute to set him up," Sophia whispered back. She made a final adjustment to her hair, and strode out to the table. Indy watched her go, a bit worried. He'd said "I'm going to try something", but what he actually meant was, "I'm going to try to think of something. And try it, if it gets that far." Indy looked around for anything useful. All he could access without being seen by Trottier was a small cupboard and the fuse box.
Sophia sat down. "Thank you for giving me another opportunity, Monsieur Trottier. Do you still have the key?"
Indy opened the cupboard. There was a small torch inside. Indy took it and tested the beam against the wall - it worked
"Yes, here it is," said Trottier.
Indy opened the fuse box. There was a large circuit breaker switch. By flipping it, Indy could control the lights from here, behind the wall. Indy was starting to get an idea. He thought back to the Palais, where Sophia had stunned the audience. He remembered how dim it was in the main auditorium, and how much the ghost of Nur-Ab-Sal would shine when it was wheeled out to the stage. He already had the mask... Indy glanced over at the bed, where a couple of pure white sheets looked perfect for what he had in mind. The bed, however, was in full view of Trottier.
Indy looked back at the fuse box, and pushed the circuit breaker.
Sudden darkness. "The lights! What happened to the lights?" asked Trottier, disturbed.
Sophia rallied. "Er...I think Nur-Ab-Sal is trying to signal us!" she exclaimed.
That he is, thought Indy. The table that Sophia and Trottier was illuminated, however slightly, by the glow of the city lights through the window. Here, however, there was no such illumination. Under cover of darkness Indy stole forward to the bed and quietly removed the topmost sheet. He took the mask out of his jacket and fixed it on his face. Indy then draped the sheet over his head and took out the pocket flashlight.
"Ohhh...I feel the presence of Nur-Ab-Sal approaching us," Sophia intoned.
Indy turned to face the unaware Trottier. In here, in the perfect blackness, it wouldn't look hokey. It'd look real.
Indy turned the flashlight on.
"Aieee!" shouted a shocked Trottier. Indy drifted over toward the table, making low whistling noises - "ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
Trottier jumped out of the chair and ran for the door, somehow finding the handle first go. He flung the door open and ran for his life down the corridor.
"Well done, Indy!" said Sophia approvingly. Indy drifted back to the bed, dropped the bedspread, and took off the mask. He felt his way back to the fuse box, and pushed the circuit breaker back. Light returned. Indy returned the torch to the cupboard, then walked over to join Sophia, who was looking at the Sunstone, enraptured.
"All right," said Indy. "Looks like we've got one of the three stones. This should satisfy the shopkeeper in Algiers, or should I say Omar Al-Jabbar." He examined the images carved on it: a rising sun, a setting sun, a bright noontime sun, and a black, night-time sun were carved into the outer edge of the stone circle. "Let's hope we get a chance to use it."
"I'll bet Trottier got it from Omar Al-Jabbar," said Sophia. "Those two do a lot of business together. Let's head for North Africa and find out if I'm right."
"It'll have to wait until morning," said Indy. "We won't be able to charter a flight tonight, not this late."
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.
Indy broke it. "Well," he said carefully, "I'll walk down to the lobby and book myself a room, shall I?"
"That sounds best," answered Sophia, also slowly, as if reading from a script. "When I booked the room, there were still a lot of vacancies."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Indy looked at his shoes for a while.
"Good night."
"Good night."
Indy turned and left.
Sophia watched the door slam. Then she went and sat on the bed for a while.

Indy was right: they were able to charter a flight early the next day. Thus it was still early morning when Indy and Sophia visited the marketplace for the second time. A crowd had gathered in the centre of the square, and seemed to be watching a performance, or waiting for one.
"This is much better," said Sophia, of the weather.
Indy noticed the beggar, in the same place as yesterday. He waved to the beggar, who looked up and grinned. "Salaam, effendi! My offer still stands!"
Indy nodded, and walked off after Sophia. They were soon passing the crowd of Algerians who had gathered. Indy looked at them. They were watching a knifethrower, who was looking around for assistants. Let someone else take that job, thought Indy.
They followed the alleyway to the enclosed shop. The shopkeeper was there waiting, standing in the same place as when Indy met him yesterday. Indy stepped forward, a steely smile on his face.
"Yes?" asked the shopkeeper, aka Omar.
"I think I have something you might be interested in," said Indy, smiling.
"What?" asked the shopkeeper brusquely.
"One of the three stones, of course," chided Indy. He took the Sunstone out of his pocket and waved it at the shopkeeper. "A Sunstone from the Lost City."
The voice of the shopkeeper hardly changed, except that a slight bit of grease was added. "Aaah," he said smoothly. "Indeed, a Sunstone, unless we're both mistaken. A most stupendous find, Dr Jones?"
"How do you know who I am?" asked a surprised Indy.
"Yeah, how?" chimed in Sophia.
"My dear Miss Hapgood," said Omar patronisingly, "when you're Omar Al-Jabbar you know these things."
"Then you are Al-Jabbar!" said Sophia.
"Yes," said Omar smoothly. "A lowly dealer of trinkets and artefacts, at your service." I trust this guy even less than I trusted Sternhart, thought Indy. Wonder where Sternhart is now?
"Let's get down to business, shall we?" said Indy "What do you know about Atlantis?" Sophia, meanwhile, was casting a searching eye over Al-Jabbar's merchandise. Scattered throughout the courtyard, taking up most of the floor space, were large ceramic vases. A few rugs were rolled up and dumped in the corner. There were assorted artefacts and children's toys lined on the small shelf behind Omar. Apart from the mask Omar had given to them yesterday, nothing here looked even remotely connected with Atlantis. Which either meant that Omar sounded more important than he really was, or that the real stuff was stockpiled elsewhere.
"What do I know about Atlantis?" echoed Omar. "Well, somewhere in the Atlas mountains there's an archaeological dig site. I'm convinced it contains the remains of an Atlantean outpost."
Indy wasn't quite so convinced. "What makes you so sure it's Atlantean?"
"From time to time scoundrels appear in my shop to trade pieces they stole there. The designs are...unmistakable."
"Whose dig is it?" asked Indy. He was caught off guard by the answer.
"Europeans. Germans, I believe," said Omar. Sophia's mouth dropped open. Indy looked at her. "We haven't got much time, have we?" He returned to Omar. "Where is the dig site, exactly?"
Omar crossed his arms. "I'm not exactly sure. I've learned enough to make a rough map - but it's very rough." Omar sighed. "The trouble is, the desert is no place for a civilised man such as myself."
"We'll go!" said Sophia suddenly. Indy turned around.
"We will!?" he asked.
"I admire your courage," said Omar behind him, "but you'll never survive the desert. Give up while you still have your lives ahead of you!"
"We'll never give up," said Indy resolutely. Suddenly, the paths before him had resolved. They would go onward, over desert and sea, until they found Atlantis. If only to give Kerner a thumping fist to the jaw.
"Well then," sighed Omar, "let it be as God wills it. Come, I'll lend you my map, and a couple of sturdy camels." He walked out into the alleyway.
Indy leant over to Sophia. "Do you trust this guy?" he asked.
"No," whispered Sophia, "but he's our only lead. We'll just have to go along with him for now."
"Coming?" asked Omar, ahead of them.
"Coming," said Indy and Sophia.

It was two hours later. Nearly high noon, and the temperature had skyrocketed since morning.
Indy and Sophia staggered back into the city. They were both sweating profusely. On Indy, sweat was running from his forehead, down the back of his neck, onto his khaki shirt which was soaked all the way to his belt. Desert winds had buffeted them with sand, so that in every crevice of skin granules of sand were caught amongst thin layer of sweat. Indy's neck rasped when he turned suddenly.
Sophia was no better off. Her shirt too had been soaked completely by sweat, so that the true colour couldn't be seen anywhere. Her hair was thicker than usual, having entrapped thousands of sand grains. Sand was continually falling down her collar.
They reached the marketplace and headed off down the narrow alley, which was blessedly cool. Indy was not at all surprised to see Omar standing at the end, waiting for them. "You've returned, alive!" he exclaimed, rubbing his fingers together. "Tell me, how was your trip?"
"Fine," replied Indy, his voice harsh, "except our sturdy camels died a couple of miles out of town." He rubbed at a nagging spot on the back of his neck.
Omar raised his hands sadly. "A terrible shame. Those were my last two camels."
"If they're all as sturdy as that, I can see why," said Sophia.
"Perhaps I can make amends in some small way," continued Omar. "Do you still have that mask I gave you?"
Indy looked at Omar, cautiously. He could see no trace of guile. "Yeah," he admitted. "I've got it right here. Why do you ask?"
Omar looked him in the eye. "I'd like to trade you for it."
Indy thought quickly. It was Atlantean, which meant it might be useful as a token or gambit to other interested parties, but they had the Sunstone now, which was surely far more effective. And Indy never really liked the mock-up image of Nur-Ab-Sal anyway. He looked at Sophia. She shrugged her shoulders: It's your choice.
"What'll you give me for it?" asked Indy.
"That depends. Do you have anything in mind?"
Indy looked around the merchandise. "Make an offer," he suggested.
"How about...this voodoo doll?" Omar showed him a simple wooden doll, and a large, sharp pin. "It was carved from trees in the black forest."
Indy was immediately sold. He'd always had a soft spot for the balmy islands down south, and though he didn't get many chances to visit, kept a keen interest in things Caribbean. Like voodoo.
"I'll take it," he said to Omar. Omar handed the doll and pin over.
"You've made a good exchange, effendi," assured Omar.
Putting the doll into his jacket pocket, Indy left with Sophia. "What should we do now?" he asked her as they walked along the alleyway.
"We need to find another way to the dig site," responded Sophia.
"True," said Indy. They emerged once more into the bright marketplace. "But the Nazis will probably be guarding the roads to the site. We need another way..." He scanned the city skyline.
At certain moments in his life, Indy occasionally wondered if there was a God. This was one of those moments. Looking across the marketplace, Indy saw a hydrogen balloon standing up, fully inflated, on the roof of one of the buildings which surrounded the square. There was a flight of stone steps leading up. By them sat Indy's friend the beggar.
"Something like that," said Indy, and pointed the balloon out to Sophia.
Soon they reached the stone steps, and walked up to the top. The building must be on a natural hill within the city, thought Indy, as they looked across at the city. You could see all the way to the desert. At the top, waiting for them beside the balloon, was a large, gruff man draped from head to foot in a dark blue robe, with an air of menace about him. The word 'swarthy' would be appropriate here. He stood under a small parchment tent, blocking the way to the balloon.
Indy approached cautiously. "Hello, there," he began.
"If you have ticket, you see sights," said the swarthy man bluntly. "If you don't, you don't." He glared at them.
"Er," said Indy uncertainly, looking upward into Swarthy's black and blue mess of a face. "Do you have any hire arrangements?"
Swarthy half laughed, half grunted.
"Fine," said Indy quickly. "Where can I get a ticket-"
Swarthy screamed in his face and started waving his arms about energetically. Indy jumped back, shocked. Swarthy was glaring at them, and gesticulating wildly, as he speed-rapped in a totally unintelligible fashion.
"Fine," said Indy carefully. "We'll just be going, then." He and Sophia walked back down the stairs as quickly as was possible while appearing nonchalant. "Where on earth do you get tickets from, then?" wondered Indy. He looked down at the beggar on his left. The beggar looked up at him, his face pale in the fierce sun.
"What was that deal again?" asked Indy.
"Give me food and I'll give you a free gift," said the beggar, cocking his head slightly toward the stairs. Indy got the feeling that the beggar had heard - and seen - everything.
"Okay," said Indy. He nodded, and turned back to Sophia. "I think our friend here can supply us with a ticket for the balloon."
Sophia was looking through her wallet at the time, and thus missed most of what Indy said. "What?" she said wearily, looking up.
"I said, our friend here can get us a ticket for the balloon."
"What do you want to go on the balloon for? It's not a hire - he just winches the balloon up so you can look at the city of Algiers from a height. Didn't you see the coils of rope?" Sophia sighed, frustrated. "We should find a car hire company and get out on the road. It's the only way."
"It isn't," said Indy vehemently. "The Nazis will be watching the roads. We'll be stopped. Kerner has probably already given my description out." Indy moved to the side wall as a large crowd of Algerians women passed, covered in black. "The reason I want to get on that balloon is that the only thing that is holding down is the rope. If we can cut that, we'll be hydrogen balloon better off. Of course, I'll need to get a knife somewhere." Indy looked around the square idly. In the centre of the Algerian crowd, the knifethrower had evidently given up looking for assistants and was juggling knives instead.
Indy got an idea. A good one.
He nudged Sophia, standing against the wall beside him. "There's a grocer stall over there," he said, pointing at a stand near the knifethrower.
"Okay," said Sophia. "I guess we may as well try your hare-brained scheme. But if this fails, Indy, I'm taking control of this team." Indy smiled as they pushed off from the wall.
He was feeling good as they walked over. Sure, he was still hot, and sweaty, and sandy, and Sophia was grumbling beside him. But his mind, surely one's most important asset, was clear and determined. It was all he could do to keep a spring out of his step - that'd get Sophia suspicious, all right, and, particularly now, Indy wanted none of that.
They reached the stall. "I'll handle this," said Indy to Sophia, who nodded and watched the crowd. Indy looked into the shade behind the display boxes - there was a bearded Algerian sitting down, writing in a ledger book. He had black hair. Everyone in Algiers seemed to have black hair.
"Excuse me," said Indy, leaning into the shade of the tent. The grocer looked up.
"Yes?" he asked as he got up and walked over.
Indy wasn't quite sure where to start. "What looks good today?" he asked pleasantly.
"Today we have a special," replied the grocer. "Squab-on-a-stick. Only twenty dinars." He looked at Indy expectantly.
Indy could have slapped himself on the head - they'd forgotten to convert some of their money into the local currency. "Do you accept U.S. currency?" he inquired, unhopeful.
"Sorry, no," replied the grocer. Indy couldn't blame him. Still, by Indy's count they'd visited six different countries, including the US, in the last three or four days. It was expecting a bit much for them to have local currency available anywhere. Indy sighed. "A squab sure would hit the spot."
"20 dinars, effendi," said the grocer, evenly. Indy looked at Sophia, who shook her head. No help there.
"Maybe we can make a deal," he said to the grocer.
The grocer looked Indy in the eye, studying him. "What kind of deal?"
Indy catalogued his current list of possessions. About the only things he could afford to give away were the voodoo doll, and the National Archaeology brochure. Indy doubted the latter would appeal. "I'll give you this cute voodoo doll for a squab," he said brightly, taking the doll from his pocket and showing it to the grocer.
The grocer took the doll from his hands. "Hmmmmmm." He gave it back. "Sorry, effendi. I never accept gifts for myself. And certainly not in this colour. Good day, effendi." He returned to the ledger book.
Sophia watched as Indy turned away, defeated. "Well, looks like it didn't work," she said. "Bad luck. But from now on, I'll be giving the...hey!"
Indy was not listening. He was, at this moment, running off down the alleyway leading to Omar Al-Jabbar. "Indy!" cried out Sophia, exasperated. She sighed, and ran off after him.

Indy was showing the voodoo doll to Omar when Sophia pulled up, slightly out of breath. "-trade this voodoo doll for something else?" Indy was saying.
"Do you have anything in mind?" asked Omar in his deep baritone voice.
"Something for a child, maybe. And in a brighter colour."
Omar turned from Indy, the first time Sophia had seen him do so, and looked over his shelves of merchandise. He picked up something red. "How about this red children's wagon?" he asked, holding it up to Indy. "It once belonged to Rudyard Kipling," he continued, his voice dripping with honesty.
"That looks perfect," said Indy. He swapped items with Omar.
"You've made a good exchange, effendi," said Omar. Indy walked over to Sophia, looking down at the small red wagon, examining the workmanship. Sophia gave him an irritated look.
"Next time, could you perhaps give me a little warning before dashing off like that?" She held out her hand for the red wagon. Indy gave it to her, surprised. "I like this," said Sophia, turning the wagon over in her hands. Indy looked for any traces of sarcasm or irony.
Sophia handed it back. "I've got my doubts about Rudyard Kipling, though. Come on." She turned and walked back up the alleyway.
Indy followed her, worrying about big swarthy men and hordes of Nazis, and occasionally glancing absently at Sophia's legs.

The grocer was, this time, far more amenable.
"Salaam," said Indy cautiously as he ducked his head into the tent. When in Algiers...
"Salaam, effendi," said the grocer.
"About that squad offer..." began Indy hopefully.
"I'm listening," responded the grocer. Indy took out the red wagon and handed it to the grocer.
"I'll trade you this lovely children's wagon for a squab," said Indy, as the grocer examined the wagon minutely.
"Hmmmm," said the grocer, peering over every angle. He straightened up. "This will make a perfect gift for my grandson," he said cheerfully. "Such workmanship! And red is my favourite colour."
Indy beamed. "Great!"
Here you go, effendi," said the grocer as he handed a small, pork-like object impaled on a wooden skewer to Indy. "So long."
Indy turned to Sophia, waving the stick. "Got it!" he said. He shifted the stick to his left hand and started walking toward the knifethrower. Now comes the tricky part...
Indy pressed through the crowd and walked over to the knifethrower. The knifethrower was a short, stocky man dressed in a purple shirt and red turban. He stopped juggling as Indy approached. Beside him was a colourful wooden board, about Indy's height and breadth. It had a number of dents in it.
Sophia watched from the crowd, distrustful.
"Yes?" asked the knifethrower.
Indy looked at the audience, who'd become mildly interested in proceedings. Just you wait, he thought. "Nice knives," he complemented, looking at the specimens in the knifethrower's right hand.
"Yes," agreed the knifethrower. "They were a gift from my father. The greatest knife thrower in North Africa. I am trying to follow his example, as best I can. But alas! No one will volunteer to be my assistant since... the accident."
Indy could feel a grin behind his lips, ready to spread over his face. He suppressed it. "Sorry to bother you," he said apologetically.
"No bother," said the knifethrower politely. "I just wish someone would step forward to be my assistant."
Indy made his retreat through the crowd, and over to Sophia, who was looking at him suspiciously. "What was that all about?" she asked.
"I think you should volunteer to be that man's assistant," said Indy.
Realisation dawned in Sophia's face. She backed away, holding her hands up. "Oh no you don't, Jones."
"Think about the effect on international relations," said Indy. Sophia was not convinced.
"I'm thinking about the effect on my health," she responded, hands on hips, as if to say: I'm drawing the line here.
"Please?" begged Indy. "It's perfectly safe. His father was the greatest knife thrower in North Africa!"
"I heard," said Sophia grimly. "Listen. I wouldn't trust that man to cut carrots. Capiche?"
"You're not really looking," corrected Indy. He pointed at the knife thrower, once more juggling expertly. "Observe the superb technique."
"Oh, all right!" said Sophia. She walked through the crowd and to the edge, and surveyed the technique of the knifethrower. Indy stood just behind her. "Gee, knives make me nervous," she muttered, crossing her arms.
With a considerably large amount of relish and satisfaction, Indy gave Sophia a firm push in the back, propelling her into the open ring of people. The knife thrower stopped juggling and looked at Sophia. His eyes widened. "Look here, ladies and gentlemen!" he cried, waving his arms to indicate Sophia. "We have a VOLUNTEER!" The audience cheered.
"But-" stuttered Sophia.
"Now now, my dear," reassured the knifethrower. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
"But-"
"Just walk over to the board," continued the knifethrower relentlessly. "NOW!"
Sophia swallowed nervously, looked at the knives in the knifethrower's right hand, and edged over to the board. She backed against it, spreading her arms and legs into a rough, quivering starfish shape. The knifethrower took the first knife, and sighted aim.
Sophia stared crazily at him, her eyes wider than they'd ever been in their life.
The knifethrower threw, and quicker than her eyes could follow, a knife thumped solidly into the wood beside her left hand. Another hit the wood beside her right hand. There were two thumps down below as knives hit either side over her feet. The final thud came as the last throwing knife quivered to a halt in the split wood just above her head. Sophia looked up at it, her legs quivering madly.
"Ta da!" shouted the knifethrower. He walked over to the board and pulled the knives out. Sophia remained still. The knifethrower reached out a hand and helped her forward. "Thank you for your brave assistance, my dear," said the knifethrower, his voice simple honesty. "Allow me to express my gratitude by giving you this souvenir knife." Sophia took it from him, wordlessly, and pushed through the crowd toward Indy. The strength in her legs was starting to come back.
Indy was standing slightly apart from the crowd, grinning from ear to ear. Sophia thrust the handle of the knife at him angrily. "Here, take this knife, before I use it on you!" Indy took the knife, and hung it from his belt.
"Thanks for that," he said. "You know, I think we're ready to go."
"What are you talking about?" asked Sophia sharply.
Indy tapped his nose conspiratorially, and walked off in the direction of the beggar.
Sophia shook her hair. "Bloody enigma," she said, following him.

"Aah! Squab on a stick!" said the beggar enthusiastically. "Thank you for your generosity, effendi."
Just a touch of sarcasm there, thought Indy.
The beggar reached into the folds of his tattered robe and brought out a small slip of paper. "Your gift, effendi," he said as he passed it to Indy. Indy looked at it.

One day pass,
Kareem's Sightseeing Tours

"Aah," said Sophia beside him. "Now I understand. You've got the ticket, and the knife. Just wasn't thinking back there. The shock," she added, looking at Indy nastily for a moment, then looking away.
"Let's pay Kareem another visit, shall we?" said Indy. They headed for the stairs. Behind them the beggar was setting into his squab with great relish.
"You know," said Indy as the climbed toward the roof, "you look just like Vivien Leigh in this light."
Sophia posed dramatically against the skyline. "Frankly, Indy, I don't give a damn."
Indy chuckled.
Kareem was waiting for them at the top, as gruff as ever. Still can't get over how unbelievably ugly you are, thought Indy. He handed over his all-day pass for Kareem to look at, being careful to avoid actual hand-to-hand contact. "I'd like a balloon ride, please," said Indy, straight faced. "Here's my pass."
Kareem looked at it. "A valuable all day pass!" he boomed. Kareem stepped aside, allowing Indy and Sophia room to squeeze through. "Today, effendi, the skies are yours!" He indicated the balloon with a grand sweep of his arm, a gesture he wasn't really built for. Perhaps sumo wrestling, thought Indy.
Indy climbed into the cane basket and helped Sophia in. They stood there, poker faced, as Kareem put his elbow grease into the crank, lifting the balloon upward. Kareem gave them about ten metres of slack before standing back.
"Should I?" asked Indy, taking the knife from his belt.
"Go ahead," said Sophia, smiling.
Indy leant over the rim of the basket and hacked away at the rope with the knife. Indy noticed bloodstains on the tip. Funny, he thought, why should I notice that now?
Kareem looked up. Sophia was watching at the time, and caught the exact expression. She recounted it later to Indy during their flight. "It was like his face collapsed," she said seriously. "His face just seemed to rumble, as if it was going through an earthquake."
Kareem started shouting faster than an excited greyhound race commentator on a good day, the words totally incomprehensible. He ran over to the winch.
Indy was making good work with the knife. His right arm sawed away at the rope feverishly, possessed by adrenaline. The balloon suddenly jolted down as Kareem began to turn the crank at a prodigious rate.
The knife cut through the last strands of bound hessian. Indy fell back into the basket as they rose, suddenly weightless. Sophia lost her footing and fell down beside him.
Indy slowly raised his head over the rim of the basket. His legs were suffering from post-adrenaline shock. He peered down at Kareem, who was jumping up and down angrily and screaming obscenities. Indy couldn't understand the words, but possible no one in the world could mistake what Kareem was shouting for 'happy birthday'. The roof under Kareem's feet was beginning to crack open. Indy was beginning to grin.
Kareem's feet landed once more and the thin roof beneath them crumbled. With a shocked expression on his face Kareem fell through. Indy waved to him.
There was a loud crash from below, as Indy turned to Sophia and sat back against the cane basket.
"I hope you know how to fly this thing," said Sophia, "cause I sure can't."
"Relax," said Indy. "I've been in plenty of balloons over the years. All we have to do is keep on rising until we find a thermal going in the right direction, and follow it." He passed the map to Sophia, who unfolded it. Indy rose and looked over at the city. He scanned the desert to the south. "Which way should we be heading?" he asked.
Sophia examined Omar's map. "Hmmm. Looks like south-east to me,"
"Fine," said Indy. He looked at the Atlas mountains, a ancient range of eroded, dull mountains. He couldn't see any activity from here. He turned for a last look at the city, which was falling away rapidly beneath them. "View's even better from up here."
"You're going to need a compass, Indy," said Sophia.
"Nonsense. I've got a built in compass, here." He tapped the side of his head.
Sophia threw a small metal square at him. "Use this one, will you? It'll make me feel a bit better, for one thing."
Indy stared at the compass. "Where'd you get this?"
Sophia pointed to the rim of the basket, opposite him. There was a small paper label: COMPASS.
Indy watched the compass as they rose into the blue sky. There was a slight breeze blowing in from the shore - that'd help them.
"All right," said Indy as the motion of the balloon locked with the compass. He reached up to let off some hydrogen. The ascent of the balloon slowed.
Occasionally dropping ballast or venting hydrogen, the balloon toiled on.

About an hour later, Sophia decided they were in the region of the dig site. "We have to be," she said, pointing to the map. "We've already crossed the Atlas mountains. What can you see?"
Indy was already scanning the ground. Algeria itself was a moderately populated country, but down below the land was almost uninhabited. Being the desert, this was perhaps not surprising.
"Can't see it," said Indy, shielding his eyes from the glaring sand. "There's just ... looks like a small hut. Probably a desert nomad down there."
"Well, land it there," said Sophia. "Maybe he's seen some activity going on."
Indy stared at her. "You want me to land a hydrogen balloon and ask directions?"
"If it doesn't bruise your masculine ego too much," said Sophia amiably.
Indy sighed. "I guess you're right. Sorry, but my nerves are at breaking point. I'm either thinking about punching Kerner, or getting shot at." He reached up to vent more hydrogen. This was done by pulling a rope, which opened a flap half way up the balloon, letting out squeals of gas. They began to descend slowly.
"How many times can we afford to do that?" asked Sophia, watching the open flap. She had to raise her voice slightly over the hiss.
"What?" said Indy.
"Keep venting hydrogen," said Sophia.
"Oh. It all depends how much ballast we've got left. And we haven't had to drop much yet, so we should be fine for a few more landings."
Sophia peered over the edge at the ground - it seemed to be rushing up rather fast. "Are you sure you know how to fly this thing? The ground seems to be approaching us a bit rapidly."
"Of course," said Indy. "If we let the balloon drift too much we'll overshoot."
Wind began to rush past the basket.
"Feel free to hang onto the edge," said Indy cheerfully, leaning back in a corner, nonchalant.
Sophia did so, grim faced. "What am I doing here, Jones?" She looked at Indy. "What are you doing here?"
"Why are any of us here?" said Indy, spotting an opening for philosophical discussion. "Plato wrote that-"
The basket slammed into the hot desert sand. Clouds of sand were thrown to either side. Sophia collapsed into a corner, on her side. Indy pinwheeled his arms furiously for a moment, then fell out into the sand. Sophia laughed. "Oof!" said Indy.
The balloon, cantered on an angle, momentarily threatened to tip itself over onto Indy, then righted.
Indy got up, brushing himself. There, a speck on the horizon, was the nomad tent. "Kind of lifeless and barren out there, isn't it?" he said to Sophia, who was now standing up inside the basket.
"Except for our nomad friends over there," said Sophia. "Are you going to go over and ask for directions, or are we just going to stand here and spout philosophy at each other?"
"Aren't you coming?"
"I'll stay here and guard the balloon."
"You get all the good jobs," said Indy as he set out toward the tent.
Sophia pouted at him.
Leaving her behind, Indy made his slow, struggling way through the sand dunes toward the black tent on the horizon. As he drew closer, he could make out a bearded Algerian standing outside, watching him. He didn't seem to be overtly hostile.
Indy looked at the nomad dwelling. In addition to the large black tent, he could also make out several smaller white tents. Some pots and pans were laid out near the opening of these tents. No one else was visible. Indy's footfalls sounded quite loud in the near-silence.
"Hello there," he said to the bearded nomad.
"Salaam, effendi," responded the nomad neutrally. Indy relaxed a little.
"Have you seen anyone digging around here?" asked Indy. The nomad looked at him sharply.
"Well, I have seen foreigners with trucks and equipment," he admitted.
"Trucks? Equipment? Where?"
The nomad spread his arms apologetically. "Alas, effendi, to describe that I need a map."
Indy patted his pockets, and mentally kicked himself. Sophia still had the map!
"Can you imagine?" continued the nomad, slightly distressed. "They're digging holes in the sand!"
"Were they Nazis, do you think?" asked Indy, trying to solicit as much information as possible.
"They had pale faces like you, effendi," said the nomad, without any accusation in his voice.
"I'll be back," promised Indy. "Don't go anywhere."
The nomad watched Indy set out toward the garish yellow object on the horizon. He'd watched its less than impressive landing earlier. Outlandish foreigners, he thought.
Indy ran over to Sophia. "I need the map."
"Did he know anything?" asked Sophia, fumbling about in her back pocket.
"We're in luck," said Indy. "He's seen them - trucks, equipment, the whole lot." He pocketed the map. "Thanks."
Indy ran back to the nomad's tent, suddenly aware of being thirsty. And they didn't have any water with them...
He returned to the nomad, panting slightly. "Here," he said, passing the map to him. "What do you make of this?"
"Hmmm," said the nomad. "This X is to the south. And, to the west." He pointed in the rough direction.
"Thanks," said Indy, taking back the map. "Er...do you have any water I might borrow?" He looked at the nomad urgently. The nomad sighed, and ducked into the black tent.
He emerged seconds later with two canisters of sloshing water in his hands. He passed them to Indy. "Please be to bring them back when you're done," said the nomad, unhopeful.
"Thanks again," said Indy, already walking back to the balloon. The nomad watched him go doubtfully. Two canisters... even with two canisters of water, he didn't think the pale man and the girl in the balloon would survive till nightfall.

Indy passed the canteens to Sophia as he climbed in, who took them thankfully. She opened the lid of one and swigged from it as Indy released several bags of ballast onto the ground. They began to rise, but slowly this time. "Aah," said Sophia as she replaced the lid.
"We're headed over there," said Indy, pointing toward a hollow pass below one of the outliers of the Atlas mountains. "And the wind's still carrying us in the right direction. This must be our day."
There was a long patch of silence as the balloon continued to rise. Indy was marvelling at the stark, wild beauty of the mountains spreading out beneath them. Sophia appeared lost in thought.
Eventually, she spoke. "Indy, what are we going to do when we land?"
Indy looked at her. "Land?"
"No, when we reach the dig site. How are going to get past the Nazis?"
"Oh," said Indy. "Well, my best bet is that we land behind a rocky outcrop, just out of sight. Then I steal up behind one of the Nazi guards and cut his throat, or maybe just knock him out if I'm feeling generous. I take the gun, then lurk around until I can find some Arabian type robes or somewhat, and walk around the site, looking at what they've uncovered. They always get native labour on digs like these. Then all I have to do is wait for the Nazis to find a Moonstone, creep up behind while they're not looking and steal it, and dash off to one of their jeeps. I jump in, get it going, you hop in, they all start shooting at us, and we drive away to safety. You'll have been guarding the balloon during the meantime," he added chivalrously.
"All that?" asked Sophia.
"Best plan I can think of," said Indy. "Only alternative to that is killing all the Nazis, and I don't really see myself as the mass-murdering type."
Sophia looked at him. "I don't think you understood what I'm saying. Even if we find a Moonstone here, and a Worldstone somewhere else, and locate the lesser and greater colonies, and even if we find Atlantis, the Nazis will still be one step behind - or ahead. You can't just fight your way in and fight your way out. They're with us, all the way to the end."
"Why should they be?" asked Indy. "If we can manage to find some important clue before they do, they'll be cut out of the picture. They won't know where to go."
"Indy, we're just two people! How many Germans are committed to this project, do you reckon? It's not just Kerner." She stared moodily over the desert. "All I want to know is, are you committed to finding Atlantis? Going all the way, even though the Nazis will be there at the end of it?"
Indy looked at her steadily. "Yes. Ever since you showed me that orichalcum bead in the study. We can't let the Nazis get hold of power like that. Ever. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to start believing in this Nur-Ab-Sal guy. It's just the orichalcum. I've never seen anything like it."
"Good," said Sophia. "You see, Indy, I'm even more committed than you are. I've been committed to finding Atlantis for a long time." She was still staring into the desert. Indy looked at her. For some reason, his gaze was drawn to her necklace.
Indy remembered the map. He unfolded it and looked down intently. He looked at the land below. Disturbingly close, he could see a number of tents and construction equipment beside a gaping hole in the desert sand, arrayed about willy-nilly.
"Oh, hell," said Indy. He pulled down on the vent rope, hard. "We've got to land, now!" he yelled at Sophia. "Get down!"
Bang!
Indy looked up at the balloon, where a small tear in the fabric was quickly expanding. "We're being shot at!"
Bang! Bang!
Two more rips appeared. There was a sickening tearing sound between them.
Wind was now whistling past the basket at prodigious rate as they entered free fall. Indy fell back into the corner.
Before the basket finally hit the ground, Indy fancied that he heard a tiny scream.
The basket whacked into the ground. Indy and Sophia were knocked about within. The yellow folds of the tent fabric billowed down over them, finally settling.
"Ow!" cried Sophia. "I've seen better landings!"
Indy stared down at the bottom of the basket in horror. Blood was seeping through the middle. Sophia drew in a sharp breath and backed into the corner.
"So's he," said Indy grimly. He turned around, pulling the vast folds of balloon fabric away. Finding an opening, he risked a look at the dig site.
It was utterly deserted.
Indy threw further folds of the balloon over the side, until finally the top was clear. "Come on," he said to Sophia, who was looking at the spreading pool of blood in the middle recess of the basket. Sophia climbed out, Indy following her.
He looked back at the bottom of the basket, which thankfully hid the body of the dead German from sight. "Maybe I'll leave off taking his gun, just this once," said Indy slowly.
Sophia was rubbing her backside, a grimace of pain on her face. She walked around experimentally, limping somewhat. "Hey, it's tough to land a balloon," said Indy.
Sophia looked at the balloon. "Well, we don't have to worry about that anymore."
Indy walked over to the dig site, still slightly amazed by the lack of activity. "Well, what do you know?" he whispered. "An abandoned dig site!" Sophia brushed past him, still limping, with a look of determination on her face. "Wait, where are you going?"
She turned to him. "I sense the presence of Nur-Ab-Sal."
"I should have guessed," chuckled Indy as Sophia walked onward into the dig site. Suddenly, she screamed.
Indy gaped as Sophia appeared to vanish into the sand. He ran over. Where Sophia had been standing, there was nothing but a dark hole, vanishing into some subterranean chamber. "Sophia?" he called out into the darkness.
"Indy?" Sophia's voice wavered back, softly. It echoed, hollow, and Indy realised that the chamber below was larger than he first thought. He backed away a bit.
"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning forward as much as he dared.
"Don't think anything's broken," said Sophia. "But I'm in deep."
Phew, thought Indy. "Did you find Nur-Ab-Sal down there?" he joked.
He was heartened by the aggressive reply. "You're dead meat," said Sophia in a low, threatening voice.
"Could you speak up? I didn't quite catch that."
"I said you're dead meat!" screamed Sophia in a full, hearty voice. No problems here, thought Indy.
"Hang in there," he said reassuringly. "I'll get you out."
"Just hurry it up," said Sophia.
Indy left the hole and looked at the dig site in further detail. As he'd seen earlier, it was deserted. The main area of interest was a large, square hole in the ground about twenty metres away. Behind it was a large crane and other earth moving equipment. To the left of this area, and well behind, a number of tents had been set up. None of them looked occupied anymore, but Indy decided he was going to give them a wide berth anyway. To the right was a lone army truck. Indy looked at it with more interest - they'd need some method of transport to get back to Algiers.
He remembered the water canteens. Sophia had both of them. He went back to the hole. "Are the canteens leaking?" he shouted into the darkness.
"No, they're okay," shouted Sophia back. "Now hurry up and get me out of here!"
Indy stepped back, reassured. He looked at the army truck again and walked over to the engine. Indy raised the hood, which was baking in the desert heat, and propped it up. He sucked at his fingers, reddened at the tips.
The engine was missing a spark plug and the distributor cap. Indy groaned. He opened the passenger door and checked the interior of the truck - it wasn't too dirty. Indy climbed in and looked at the fuel gauge. At least here was some good news. The gauge read mostly full. Indy looked in the back - there was no rope or any other equipment which might help get Sophia out.
He got out of the driver cabin and looked at the dig itself, a black hole in the sand.
Time to go prospecting.

Indy climbed down a ladder into the main excavation. The walls beside him were sheer, and shored up with heavy baulks of timber. The sky was a small blue square. Indy took two steps forward and was immediately plunged into darkness. Squinting, he could barely make out the outlines of the tunnel receding into the earth ahead of him.
Indy waited for his eyes to adjust, but realised that it was so bright outside, there'd be no point - he'd be here for an hour at least, and be blinded when he got back out. He decided to edge slowly forward. The ground here was more moist, and the air felt damp and musty. It smelt that way, too, like moulding spices.
Before long Indy struck a sharp object with his foot. He knelt down and felt around in the soil for the object. It felt like a sharp stick of wood - maybe a spear, warped over time? Indy picked it up and moved on slowly forward. Almost immediately, his foot struck something else. This object, however, was rubbery, and felt like a snake. Indy froze slightly. There was no movement in the darkness. Tentatively, Indy reached out and picked up a rubber hose, about three inches wide and two metres long.
His eyes were adjusting, slowly. The tunnel ahead of him was widening into a large room. Indy could make out dim shapes. He moved toward the closest, and reached out a tentative hand. It touched metal. Indy ran his hand around the object's edges. It felt like a portable generator. Indy felt around for the main switch, and flipped it. Nothing happened. Maybe, it was out of gas.
Indy turned around and walked deeper into the room, aware of the slightly futile nature of his search. He needed light to do any kind of work in here. And surely the Nazis had cleared this area out. But maybe, they didn't have the Sunstone.
Indy's right leg banged into a thick wooden table, rattling it slightly. Indy winced, and rubbed his thigh. He squinted at the table. There was a small clay jar on the near side. Indy took it. Let's see now ... he had a jar, and a hose...
Indy turned round and made for the dim light of the tunnel entrance. He had a sudden idea of how to get some gas.

He returned five minutes later with a clay jar full of gas. It hadn't been hard.
After he got out of the tunnel, Indy had made his way over to the truck, squinting fiercely to minimise the returned glare of the sun. At the truck, he opened the gas cap and stuck the rubber hose in, so that one end was fully submerged. He brought the other end to the ground, and placed the clay jar on the end. Then, by sucking on the end of the rubber hose to get the initial movement of petrol, he was able to draw out enough petrol to fill the clay jar. And, hopefully, run the generator.
Sophia appeared to be okay. Indy didn't spend much time there, but quickly returned to the cool subterranean darkness of the anteroom. Walking down the tunnel with slightly more confidence, Indy made his way over to the generator and felt around for a filling cap on the top. He pulled it open and delicately poured the contents of the jar in. He replaced the cap, screwing it on tight.
Indy reached for the generator switch and flipped it on.
Immediately the generator started to rattle as the belt got moving. The room around Indy grew brighter as lights started to turn on. Indy looked up - the Nazis had strung lights across the ceiling to provide illumination. Indy surveyed his surroundings for the first time.
The tunnel leading back to the surface was reasonably straight, and about ten feet wide. By one side of the tunnel was the skeleton of a small sailing ship, looking like the ribs of some antediluvian monster. Indy looked at the sharp stick of wood he was carrying - it was curved, similar to the ship timber. Indy guessed the stick was part of a ship rib. By the right of the tunnel was a thin rail track, with an ore trolley at the end. The tunnel itself ran into the much larger room that Indy was in now.
Indy estimated the dimensions: it looked to be about forty feet wide, and twenty feet deep. To the left, on the generator side, the room narrowed. On one wall was a picture. Indy walked over, interested.
The picture showed two people, both reaching out toward a ball in the centre. Between them was a light wooden crate - a painting of a chest, or ark. "Are those figures tossing a ball?" wondered Indy. "Or a stone disk?" Indy reached out to the pale, colourless painting and ran his hands delicately over the surface. There was no evidence of peeling. His fingers paused over the surface of the ball. Indy pushed.
The stone wall which held the picture of the chest drew backward, revealing a small recess about a foot deep. It was empty. If it had ever held a secret, Indy had been beaten to it. Indy stepped back, disgusted, and turned his head to the other side of the room.
In the centre of the room was the table he'd already discovered. Also on the table was something he'd not yet seen, a small wooden peg. Indy wandered over and picked it up - an ancient wooden peg of some sort. It looked a familiar size.
Indy took out the Sunstone and compared them. Sure enough, the wooden peg was just large enough to snugly fit in the hole in the middle of the Sunstone. Well and good. But how could he use this?
Indy looked at the wall. Where the corresponding portrait on the left side had been of two people and a stone disk, here a portion of a circle was obscured behind loose outcrops of rock. Next to this, and slightly recessed, was a thick stone slab. Indy looked at the wall first: the rock was indeed very loose, and crumbling. He took out the ship rib and started to hack the rock loose. Details of the picture below were starting to emerge. Indy stared as he pushed the rock away, the ship rib acting as a very efficient lever.
There was another mural behind the crumbling rock. It was a map of the island of Crete. There was a hole in the middle - about the diameter and depth of the wooden peg. Above this, were two etched marks in the shape of horns. Hmmm, thought Indy, didn't I read about that in the Lost Dialogue? He took the Lost Dialogue out of his pocket, and thumbed through the pages.
"At many outposts," read Indy, "a Sunstone sufficed, if morning light warmed the tall horns." He looked at the Sunstone. One of the illustrations was, indeed, that of a morning sun.
Indy placed the wooden peg into the hole. The fit was snug. He pushed the Sunstone onto this. Turning it carefully, he aligned the morning sun with the tall horns. His heart was racing.
Nothing happened. Indy looked at the Sunstone, desperate. What should he do now? Plato's Lost Dialogue didn't seem to specify this step. Indy reached out and pushed the wooden peg.
The stone slab beside him started to rumble. Indy jumped. With a slow inevitability of motion, the unmarked slab swung outward. The gates opened, thought Indy.
Sophia appeared around the slab, waving. "Hi." Indy's eyes nearly popped out. "Thanks," said Sophia gratefully, unaware of Indy's surprise. "Thought you were going to leave me in there!"
"Believe me, I was tempted," said Indy, once again landing on his feet.
"Lucky you didn't," said Sophia. "Here's something we may need!" She handed over an oily metal object.
"The distributor cap!" exclaimed Indy.
"It fell on my head when I sank into the hole," said Sophia. "Will you stop grinning like that? That's not all...look!" She showed Indy an orange object hung from a string. It looked like a fish, and it looked like amber.
"What is it?" asked Indy.
"It's an amber fish on a string."
"I can see that," said Indy. "What does it do?"
"How should I know?" said Sophia. "I suppose you've come up with something more interesting?"
"Maybe I have," said Indy. "Take a look at this mural." He showed her over. "Look where the Sunstone is centred on this mural. The island of Crete! I'll bet Crete is where we'll find the Greater Colony of Atlantis Plato mentioned."
"That sounds possible." said Sophia.
Indy looked at the amber fish again. Experimentally, he held the top of the string and suspended the fish in space. It oscillated for a while, then stopped, pointing directly at Sophia. "It likes you," said Indy. The fish began to angle upward, until it was pointing at Sophia's necklace. It stopped. "Or maybe it just likes Nur-Ab-Sal," said Indy.
"It must be detecting the orichalcum residue," said Sophia. Indy gave the amber fish back to her.
"Where do the orichalcum beads go when your necklace is finished with them?" he mused, not expecting an answer. He didn't get one. "Well, we could use an orichalcum detector." He walked over to the generator. "I'm going to turn the lights out now."
"Why?" asked Sophia behind him, slightly wary.
"Because the truck is missing a spark plug, and the only spark plugs around are in this generator. Give me your hand, would you?" Indy held out his left arm, and waited for Sophia to give him her hand.
Indy looked at Sophia, who was standing nearby, uncommitted. "So I can lead you out, okay?" he said impatiently. Sophia relented, and put her hand in Indy's. It was warm and dusty. Indy nodded, opened the engine block, noted the position of the spark plugs, and flipped the off switch.
The plunge into darkness was complete. Indy waited a minute, then reached in and pulled out a spark plug. Indy leading Sophia by the hand, they walked slowly out into the sun. "How's the limp?" asked Indy.
"Tolerable," said Sophia. "It'll get better soon enough." She examined herself in the bright sun, and brushed sand off.
Indy climbed up the ladder, waited for Sophia, and then set out for the truck. "You still got those water canteens?" he asked. Sophia passed one over to Indy, and he took a long swallow. "Aaah. That hit the spot, sure thing." He passed the canteen back to Sophia. For the first time, Indy noticed how hot and dirty and musty she looked. The hair was bedraggled, the clothes uniformly brown, the skin alternatively reddened or brown with sand. "You look worse than I do," he said, wonderingly.
"Most primates would struggle to look worse than you do," responded Sophia smartly.
"Good one," said Indy. He was in a goodnatured mood.
At the truck, Indy walked around to the engine, still exposed to the sun. He took out the distributor cap, and fiddled around with the engine. He placed the distributor cap down.
"It fits!" said Indy. His gaze turned to the missing spark plug. This one would be trickier. Indy took the ceramic plug from his pocket, and placed it against the plug in the engine for reference. "A perfect fit," he said, pleased by this turn of events. Indy slotted the plug in, and stood back. Now the only real problem they had was with overheating. Indy looked at the radiator. "Pass me the canteens, can you?" he said, holding a hand out to Sophia. "We're going to have to lose our precious drinking supply." Sophia handed the canteens over. Indy poured them down into the radiator. When the second canteen had emptied, the radiator was nearly full.
"We'll leave the canteens here for our nomad friend to find," said Indy. "Er, Sophia..."
"Look, I'm grateful you saved my life down there," said Sophia urgently. Indy raised an eyebrow - he wouldn't have put it quite that far. "But we don't have time for chit-chat. We've got to get to Crete!"
Indy nodded. He opened the driver's door, and got in. As a last check, the keys were still in the ignition - Indy might have been able to hotwire the car, but he wasn't completely sure how. Sophia got in on the passenger side.
"Let's book passage to Crete, Sophia," said Indy as he turned the key. The engine didn't do likewise, thankfully, hitting its stride as Indy pumped the accelerator.
"Well, we should perhaps stop to shower and get our stuff together," relented Sophia as they drove off from the dig site.
"Are you kidding!" asked Indy, who certainly was. "There's no time!"
Sophia scowled, then grinned also.

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