Indiana Jones & the Sky Pirates

by Martin Caidin

  "An industrial organization, as powerful politically and financially as it is in trade and industry, has obviously decided that the Great War only twelve years behind us was a warning for the future. They apparently hew to the line that the only way to prevent another global conflict is to have the levels of power—industrial, financial, trade, and military—invested in the hands of only one group. That group is to be so powerful that no nation or group of nations could ever resist its pressure or direct attack."

  "Your words might come almost directly, I would note," interrupted Japan's Matsudo, "from the proposals for the League of Nations which, I add quickly, has all the power of a tiger without teeth. Very pretty, but no bite."

  "Point well taken," Treadwell parried, "except that at its very worst and most confusing, the League did not kill people en masse, destroy commercial ships and aircraft, and embark on its own murderous means of achieving its goal."

  Matsudo bowed briefly to accept Treadwell's rebuke, leaving the Englishman free to continue. "This group, which has so far kept absolutely secret the identity of its members, believes in what it is doing. That makes them doubly dangerous, for they are zealots with a new brand of fanaticism.

  "I will be blunt. Many of us, if not all, are aware of the rise of new power in Germany. That country is on the upsurge of a new militarism, and for a while we believed that this group, or one of several groups, was behind the attacks from South Africa to the inland Sea of China. But that is not so. Even the best of German engineering has been helpless before this group as it continues on its destructive and, regretfully, successful path.

  "We have identified the name under which they operate."

  That was enough to bring a hornet's nest of shouting from the group.

  Treadwell stood still while waiting for quiet to resume. Gale watched Indy; he was missing nothing. She hadn't noticed the strap about his neck.

  Of course! All that paraphernalia he was wearing . . . how beautifully it all but concealed the Leica camera strapped about his neck and suspended just above table level. She watched Indy shifting in his seat, his right hand in the wide pocket of his jacket. So that's it! she realized. Every time he looked directly at any one person, he needed only to squeeze the trigger bulb in his pocket, and he had taken a picture of his target. He never touched the camera draped so casually from his neck along with other equipment. And he made sure to use the camera trigger only when there was enough noise among the group to conceal any metallic clicking sound.

  Treadwell went on. "They are very sure of themselves, and be advised that it is our opinion the name we have discovered is used deliberately to convince us they are more powerful than all of us put together. That name is Enterprise Ventures International, Limited." He held up both hands. "I know, I know! The acronym is EVIL. They apparently like to tweak us, along with committing their very lethal operations. But EVIL also has offices in several countries. You will be given addresses, telephone, and Teletype numbers. They maintain these offices so that any of us, or the group, may contact them and yield to their pressure."

  "Never!" shouted Buzau.

  "Hopefully, you are correct," Treadwell said quietly, earning an angry glare from the Romanian. He ignored the daggers in Buzau's eyes. "I said I will get right to it and I will. The United States has been selected by us all as the main guiding force to act on our behalf. We had all agreed before never to identify who actually heads our program, even though we also have agreed to supply all the weapons, manpower, and other support this person or group deems necessary. We hope the American group, which for obvious reasons of security shall absolutely remain unknown to us—"

  Vladimar Mikoyan was on his feet. "You make sounds, my friend, as if we are not to be trusted!"

  "A point well taken, Vladimar. Tell me, do you absolutely, implicitly, unquestionably, trust everyone here, as well as their government contacts, not to compromise what I have just outlined?"

  "Well, there is always a possibility that—"

  "That will do, Vladimar," Treadwell snapped icily. "You've answered my question."

  Mikoyan took his seat slowly, obviously smarting from being whipsawed so easily.

  "I have had my say," Treadwell concluded. "You will now hear directly from Colonel Harry Henshaw of the American army. So you will understand his position, he is the communications center of this facility. Or I should say, he commands this organization. He does not know the identity of the group tracking down the members of EVIL. He is strictly a conduit, but reports from all over the world funnel through this facility. Colonel Henshaw, if you would, please?"

  Gale Parker came up stiffly, her nerves taut, as Henshaw began a recital of deadly attacks against ships at sea, commercial airliners, and selected targets such as banks, show galleries, and privately held vaults. (And trains! she smiled to herself.) Every few moments she studied Indy. He was surprisingly disinterested in Henshaw's reports, either deliberately so as to mislead the others, or because he really didn't care for the growing mountain of minutiae.

  She'd find out later when she was alone with him.

  "A prime example of what we face, that illustrates the very considerable military power this group, EVIL, has brought together, involves the Empress Kali," Henshaw related. He paused as the group about the table looked to each other for information.

  "If you have heard of what happened to the Kali, I assure you much of what was reported was unfounded conjecture. What is reality is that the Kali was not any ordinary freighter. In appearance, yes. In performance and cargo, no. The Kali left Nacala in Mozambique with a cargo of Zambian wood for a southern French port and then overland shipment to Switzerland. The vessel was built with sealed holds; in brief, to be virtually unsinkable. And, she was armed."

  He paused to let eyebrows rise with that last remark. "Two threeinchers on the decks, fore and aft, and three gun tubs with heavy machine guns."

  For the first time Indy made himself known. To gain attention he eschewed the accepted raising of the hand.

  Instead he rapped his knuckles on the table. Heads swiveled. Indy kept his eyes on Henshaw.

  "Why?"

  His voice was like a shot in the room. Against all the previous verbiage, his singleword query cut to the bone.

  Gale watched Henshaw. He too was riming his words for the moment of maximum effect. "Obviously, the cargo was worth a great deal, and with the publicity attached to ships that previously were attacked—"

  Again Indy sliced into the presentation. "If the cargo was worth all that firepower it was especially valuable.

  Obviously it was not wood." Smiles met his statement. "So I will add questions, Colonel. What other cargo was that ship carrying? And who attacked that vessel? You would not be presenting us with the lamentable fate of the Empress Kali unless disaster befell the ship."

  "You are correct, sir," came the response. "However, all I know of the apparently unidentified and presumably valuable cargo, other than wood, is that we cannot identify it. We have confirmed a value in the hundreds of millions of dollars. The cargo was insured by a Swiss carrier, reportedly in concert with Lloyds of London, but they will release no information as to what it was.

  "To get right to the most important issue, who or what attacked and destroyed the Kali, our information derives from three survivors. Two men were from Mozambique, the third was a Portugese national. We obtained his story because the rescue vessel was a Portugese destroyer." Henshaw paused, tapped his notes on the table before him, then spoke slowly.

  "I am not sure if this esteemed group will believe the description of events as provided by that survivor."

  "We appreciate your concern," said Tandi Raigarh, "but I suggest you offer fewer apologies and give us specific information. We will then decide what to believe."

  Gale began to understand just how Henshaw was playing this group. Rather than trying to sell them on the veracity of the reports, he had, with Indy's perfectly timed interruption, brought the group virtually to deman
d his information. He took a deep breath and went on.

  "Our report states that a strange flying machine appeared over the Kali," he said, making certain he appeared confused by his information.

  "What do you mean by strange?" demanded the representative of Egypt. Rashid Quahirah had little patience for longwinded stories. Again it played perfectly into Henshaw's agenda.

  "The machine over the Kali was shaped like a great scimitar. Like a blade rather than a rounded boomerang. It shone brightly in the sun, its metal highly reflective. There were no engines, no propellers, but it made what the survivor called the shriek of a thousand devils. Its speed was considered fantastic and its noise was terrifying."

  "How fast is fantastic, if you please?" That from China's Sam Chen.

  "The survivor's report states many times faster than any aircraft he had ever seen."

  Erick Svensen of Sweden coughed to cover his amusement. "And what did this sensational machine do?"

  "This is the strangest part of all. It made radio contact with the Kali. It spoke the native tongue of Mozambique, and quite perfectly. One of our survivors had been in the radio shack and heard the radio call. It ordered the ship to hove to, and to bring its concealed cargo from the safe onto the deck. If there was resistance the ship would be destroyed."

  Murmurs ran through the group; Henshaw kept going. "Somehow, this vessel was ready for some sort of interference. The cannon and machine guns opened fire on the scimitar air machine. It accelerated with tremendous speed, swept around to the opposite side of the ship, and as the gunners tracked it a second scimitar machine swept in from another angle. It fired rockets at the Kali."

  "Rockets?" someone echoed.

  "Rockets," Henshaw emphasized. "When the rockets struck and exploded, they released a terrible gas that soon had the crew choking. They were falling all about the decks. Some apparently died within seconds or minutes."

  Antonio Morillo slammed his hand against the table. "This is ridiculous!"

  "Do you wish me to continue?" Henshaw asked smoothly.

  "Be quiet! Let the man finish!" shouted Treadwell.

  "One of the aerial machines fired rockets into the rudder to disable the steering mechanism. Then one scimitar slowed and hovered just above the foredeck.

  A gangway extended down, and figures in silver suits and globelike helmets descended. They went directly to the captain's

  cabin. An explosion was heard, obviously to blow open the safe and take what was held in there. We have heard everything about the contents of the safe from a crystal skull, to diamonds, to a cube or pyramid with unusual markings on it. This is all guesswork—"

  "Guesswork, my Aunt Millie," George Sabbath spat. The others turned to the American, who glared at them all.

  "This is poppycock. Drivel!"

  "Perhaps so," Henshaw said, unperturbed. "I will not even attempt to explain what happened next. I presume, and you will judge for yourself, that a submarine was also involved. Two torpedoes struck the Kali after the men, or whatever they were, in the silver suits ascended back into the scimitar craft, which had been hovering all this time, continuing to howl like a thousand devils. The hatch closed, the scimitar machine accelerated swiftly, and the ship was torn in two by the torpedo hits. The three survivors clung to some of the cargo of wood and were picked up the next day."

  The Romanian delegate, Pytor Buzau, motioned for attention. "I would rather believe the stories of vampires from our old castles than what I am hearing."

  "I suggest," Henshaw replied with measured distaste, "you tell that to the Mozambique government, which has lost a ship, its cargo, and fiftyeight men."

  Thomas Treadwell stood, waiting until quiet was again at hand. "I will be brief.

  One of our airliners, six engines, was lost right at our doorstep. The event was seen by several hundred people near Dover. Do you understand? Several hundred witnesses. Above the airliner, en route to France, the witnesses saw an incredible torpedolike machine. Very high, no engines, great speed, shining in the sun, and making a sound like a great blowtorch. All these people watched three scimitarshaped machines fall away from the larger craft, which they estimated was at least fifteen hundred feet long. Then a fourth machine fell from the mother ship. They said it looked like a great flattened dome, but with the body thickest towards the center. This latter machine flew alongside the airliner and put explosive shells into the cabin. It apparently damaged the airliner just enough so the pilots could make a crash landing along a beach. Once again, just as with the Empress Kali, a scimitar machine hovered by the wreckage, the figures in silvery suits emerged, released that terrible gas that killed everyone aboard the airliner, and went into the wreckage to apprehend a sealed briefcase. That was all they took. They returned to their devilish machine and sped upwards, apparently to be recovered by the mother ship."

  He paused, distressed. "As I say, there are several hundred witnesses."

  Jacques Nungesser of France rose by Treadwell's side. "I confirm everything you have just heard."

  "What was in that briefcase?" queried Yoshiro Matsuda.

  "The plans for a new mutual defense treaty between Great Britain and France, with a most thorough review of the capacity of both countries to produce new armaments. And," Treadwell said ominously, "the reports of British Intelligence on the military capacity of every nation in Europe."

  Both men resumed their seats. There was no keeping this group quiet anymore, and the gathering soon disintegrated into a shouting match.

  9

  "Indy, you just cannot keep piling weight onto this machine!" Cromwell became ever more agitated at Indy's seeming indifference. "I'm serious, Indy. We're already well above the permissible gross weight—"

  Indy waved Cromwell to silence. "As you would say, Will, bosh and bother."

  Gale grinned at his choice of words and Indy acknowledged her compliment with a slight bow. "I may not be a pilot, but I know the mathematics of flight,"

  he continued with Cromwell. 'Your figures are for a commercial model with specific restrictions, right? And they're for the engines without our superchargers or the fat blades, right?"

  "Well, yes, but—"

  "But me no buts, my friend. I've worked out the wing loading, power loading, the shift in center of gravity, all that stuff."

  "All that stuff, he calls it," Cromwell complained to Foulois. He studied Indy carefully. "I thought you said you're not a pilot."

  "I'm not. Yet. But numbers are numbers, Will. We've still got the power and lift to handle another two or three thousand pounds."

  "And she'll fly like a sodding brick!" Cromwell shouted. "Tish and blather."

  "What? You sound like a charwoman down on the docks."

  "Get ready to fly, both of you," Indy ordered. "We're going down to that restricted area. I want to test out the additional equipment we've added to this thing."

  Tarkiz pushed closer, anticipation stamped on his face. "We fire guns?"

  "We do," Indy told him. "The works. And I want to test those wing shackles for the tanks, too. We could hang bombs instead of fuel tanks externally, couldn't we?"

  "Bombs?" Cromwell groaned, then shook his head in defeat. "Yes, yes, we could."

  "Isn't that what you did with those clunker boats you flew in the war?" Indy demanded.

  "That was different," Cromwell sniffed. "Why?"

  "Because it was a bloody war, that's why! And you took chances!"

  "What do you think we're getting into?" Indy asked quietly. "Tea and crumpets? We may need every piece of hardware this thing can carry. And, by the way, every chance we have, I want you to teach me and Gale how to handle this airplane. There'll be times when we can spell you and Rene on a long flight. All we need to do is hold her steady on course. Shouldn't be too difficult." "Nothing to it, right?" Cromwell said sarcastically. "That's the spirit. Load up. Let's go. Henshaw has closed the firing range to everyone but us."

  They climbed into the airplane, now painted with new lett
ering and numbers.

  Gone were the army stars and tail numbers. Blue and red stripes adorned the upper and lower fuselage, and in between were the large letters reading global transair.

  "For the record, we're checking out routes for our airliners."

  "How many planes do we have?" Foulois laughed.

  "One," Indy replied. "Let's go. I'm going to stand behind you two flyboys and start learning how to handle this thing."

  "You want to start from the ground up, right?"

  "Right," Indy said.

  "Good," Foulois smiled. "So you start with a walkaround inspection. You will learn to look for popped rivets, any twist or malformation of metal—come along, Indy, you learn as we go through the checklist. And you check the fuel by dipstick, because such instruments as fuel gauges are not to be trusted. The same with the oil." They started at the left engine, inspecting fasteners, the wheels and tires, looking for signs of leaking hydraulic fluid. "Check the propeller blades for nicks or damage. Ah, look carefully at the propeller fastenings. And while we walk, you check the external control cables. Look for slack or cable wear. Check the oil coolers to be certain they are clear. And, over here, we drain fuel from each tank to get rid of any water that has collected from condensation."