Indiana Jones and the Army of the Dead Read Online Free Page B

drool over alone. Such things should belong to the world.”
    She turned her gaze to regard Indy. “Is this what you really believe, Dr. Jones?”
    He realized he might have sounded a little over the top. “Yeah. And call me Indy.”
    “Then you must call me Marie. I will help you find this Heart of Darkness, gentlemen. But I must warn you—the Island of Death is a strange and dangerous place, at least as much so as Conrad’s Congo. Your lives will be at risk.”
    Indy thought, Huh. She agreed to that pretty quickly. He said, “There’s a surprise.” He paused. “We’ve managed to keep ourselves alive in some dangerous places. We’ll chance it.”
    She nodded. “We will need to hire a boat, and once we arrive there will be more expenses. Have you funds?”
    Indy started to tell her they were broke, but Mac interrupted. “We do.”
    Indy looked at him. “We do?”
    Mac patted his ample waist. “Money belt. A fair number of gold coins. Been saving them for a rainy day, but it’s only money—and who needs that?”
    “I hope you have enough to get us a room with a bath and a couple of razors. Some washed clothes would be nice, too.”
    “Not a problem, old man.”
    “I know a woman with rooms to let,” Marie said. “They are clean, and she is honest. Best if you don’t check into one of the city’s hotels. Port-au-Prince is full of spies since the war began.”
    “Yeah, we noticed one of those ourselves,” Indy said.
    “Really? Which one?”
    Indy looked at Mac. In for a dime, in for a dollar. “An American.”
    “Joe Edmonds,” she said. “OSS, posing as a sisal buyer.”
    “You seem well informed about spies, too,” Indy allowed.
    She smiled. “It is my home. One pays attention.”
    Yeah.
    “Go and see Madam Josette, for the rooms. We can begin as soon as you are ready.”
    “All we need are directions,” Indy said.
    “You do not need those. Alain will show you.”
    A young man suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere, to stand in the doorway. He looked enough like Marie to be a younger brother or maybe a cousin. She said something to him in a soft and liquid Creole, none of which Indy caught except his name: Alain.
    Mac and Indy stood.
    “Thank you,” Mac said to Marie.
    She gave him a slow nod, and for a moment Indy thought he could see something in her eyes, some knowledge, a hint of amusement. But he was tired and dirty and he realized he was probably imagining it. It had been a long and exhausting few days . . .
    As they headed away from Marie’s house, Mac said, in English and quietly enough so their guide couldn’t hear, “More to that woman than meets the eye.”
    Indy nodded. “Yeah. Surprised you noticed.”
    “I have passed time with a woman or two.”
    Indy nodded again. Penelope. Indy still had a letter to her from Mac, to be delivered if Mac died. Well, he didn’t have it with him. The letter was in a bank box in Washington, DC, which was good, because the ink would have gotten a little smeary during that swim if it had been in his back pocket.
    Every so often, Mac gave him an updated version of the letter, telling Indy to burn the older one.
    A pity he didn’t have anybody like that. Not since Marion . . .
    Marion Ravenwood. Had that been only six years ago that he’d left her at the altar? Yeah, 1937. Marion . . . and he couldn’t count Elsa, who hadn’t been at all what she had first seemed. And then there was that woman revolutionary in Peru, early in ’41, and his decision to join in the war effort, and look where that had led . . .
    Don’t go there, Jones. No point. It’s all history now. What was it Satchel Paige said? Avoid fried meats and don’t look back: Might be something back there, and it might be gaining on you.
    Onward and upward.

FIVE
    B OUKMAN STOOD in the warm darkness outside the rooming house, watching people as they passed in front of the windows. No electricity here, but they had kerosene lanterns aplenty, and the yellow lamp glows suffused