King Dong

‘Aiiieeeee!’ cried one, pointing a quivering finger. ‘Shirleey Tempellleee!’

‘Shirleey Tempellleee!’ echoed the others. ‘Aiiieeeee!’

Casting aside their weapons in their panic, the war party turned on its heel and fled back the way it had come, leaving its intended victim sprawled on the sand.

Captain Rumbuggery turned a disapproving glance on Deadman as the latter strolled out of the forest, smoking a cigar and grinning from ear to ear. ‘Shirley Temple impersonations? That was a pretty low trick to play on a proud warrior race.’

Deadman’s grin grew even wider. ‘Don’t knock it. It worked.’

Released from the momentary sobriety into which the crisis had thrust him, the Skipper weaved towards the stranger. ‘Who the hell are you?’

The dusty figure raised its perforated fedora. ‘Indiana Bones. Pleased to meet you.’ He passed out.

‘Likewishe,’ said the Skipper. And followed suit.

Back on the Vulture, an impromptu conference took place on the aft deck. Several of the shore party were present; except for those who, following their appearance as the curly-haired moppet of popular movie fame, had already attracted partners from the salacious crew and retired below. Captain Rumbuggery having been lashed into his bunk with an attack of the blue devils, Deadman took the chair for the interrogation of the fugitive.

‘So you’re Indiana Bones, intrepid explorer and inveterate tomb-robber. What were you doing to be chased by those guys?’

Indiana Bones waggled his fingers through the holes in his fedora and sighed. ‘It took me years to get this hat so sweaty and grungy. Now look at it. I guess I’ll have to start all over again.’ He took another long pull at the bottle that had earlier been torn from the screaming Skipper’s clutching fingers. ‘What was I doing? That’s a long story …’

‘Then let’s have the abridged version. We’re in a hurry.’ Deadman pointed to the wrapped bundle that Indiana had, despite all blandishments, refused to part with since his rescue. ‘For starters, what is that thing?’

Indiana gave him a cunning look. ‘That’s what they were after. I recovered it, at great personal risk, from the Lost Temple of Werarwee.’

‘The Temple of Werarwee?’

‘Yes – I said it was lost. I risked life, limb and academic credibility to break into the innermost sanctum. It was a deadly game of cat and mouse.’ The energetic archaeologist shuddered at the recollection. ‘The big round rock that chased me, that was the worst. And the spikes that shot out of the floor and ceiling as the roof came down, that was the worst, too. And the room where the gap between the walls got smaller and smaller, and the rats, and the poison darts, and the revolving blades, and the pit of snakes –’

‘But what were you after?’ Fey Ray, who had taken an instant and obvious shine to the rugged adventurer, was sitting at Indiana’s feet, listening with rapt attention to this preposterous farrago of lies. ‘What in the world is so precious that you would risk your body and soul in such an insanely dangerous quest?’

Indiana leered at his audience and slowly unwrapped the parcel in his lap. ‘The solid gold knobkerrie of Shaka Zulu.’

There was a spontaneous intake of breath from the onlookers.

‘Look at the length of that thing,’ murmured one.

‘It’s solid gold,’ breathed another.

‘And very knobbly,’ gasped a third.

‘Lemme see.’ Unnoticed, Ann had joined the conference. Indiana looked up to see who had spoken – and pointed like a retriever. An idiotic smile played across his rugged features. His eyes glinted. Ray pouted.

Ann reached for Indiana’s treasure. Eyeing her like a wolfhound declaring an interest in a nice, juicy ham-hock, Indiana handed it over.

Ann gasped at the weight of the object. Then, tongue protruding, she ran her hands over the heavy, golden artefact. With great deliberation, she stroked the long, sturdy shaft. Her eyelids half-closed as she caressed the bulbous shape at the end …

Three men fainted dead away.

Anne purred. ‘Hey, this is really something.’

Indiana gazed at her with unbridled lust. ‘Do you know what it is?’

‘No.’ Ann’s hands slid over the smooth metal. ‘But I could have a damn good guess.’

‘It’s a ceremonial staff of office derived from a stick with a heavy bulge at the end, used as a war club.’

‘Well, I was wrong.’ Losing interest immediately, Ann dropped the golden dingus back in Indiana’s lap. As he doubled up in agony, she said, ‘What time does Sloppy open the cook-house on this banana boat? I’m starving,’ and flounced off.

Ray looked at the moaning adventurer with a finely poised mix of revenge, sympathy and opportunism. ‘Shall I rub it better?’

Hastily, Indiana shook his head.

Ray gave a petulant shrug. ‘Suit yourself.’

Deadman’s patience was wearing thin. ‘Now see here, Dr Bones, we’ve all heard of your heroic exploits –’

‘Oh, really?’ said a familiar voice. ‘Let’s just get this straight, shall we? This guy claims to be a serious scientist, yet he steals objects of great value from helpless, impoverished indigenous peoples without any regard for their significance or any attempt to record or interpret what he’s found, and sells these priceless artefacts for vast sums on the international antiquities market. Now how does that make him a hero, exactly?’

Thwack!

‘Well, thank you for that cogent and closely reasoned riposte.’ Able Seaman Obote folded up like a deckchair.

‘Like I was saying, Dr Bones,’ Deadman continued, as if the interruption had never taken place, ‘I’m damned if I know what to do with you.’

‘Give … me a … ride … to my next … port,’ gasped Indiana, rubbing at the affected area. ‘I’ve heard of a fantastic treasure in the Himalayas. There’s a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu and its remaining green peeper has got my name on it. If you could just see your way clear to take me to Calcutta …’

‘Goddamn it, man!’ exploded Deadman. ‘I’ve got a movie to shoot. This isn’t an archaeology expedition, and we don’t have time for sightseeing trips.’ He considered. ‘However, there’s a strong chance we may have to deal with an ancient and mysterious culture, in which case your expertise may be valuable. What’s more, since the second assistant chef ran amok in the galley with a meat-axe the other night and we had to throw him over the side, we’re a man short in the kitchen and there’s a mountain of potatoes to peel between here and our mysterious destination.’

‘Now hold it right there!’ Indiana was on his feet, his eyes blazing defiance. ‘I have a Master’s degree from Oxford and a PhD from Harvard, I’m a member of the Royal Society, the National Academy of Science and the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, and I’m damned if I’m going to waste my time doing KP for a bunch of lowlife chancers.’

‘Or we could leave you for the Zulus.’

Indiana rolled up his sleeves and pulled out his sheath-knife. ‘Would you like me to do the carrots as well?’

CHAPTER FIVE Tall Tales and a Big Whopper (#ulink_496e4c34-ba54-50a2-bd1a-932b13d21c02)

‘Hi there, baby.’

Ann gave Indiana a sidelong glance. If she was pleased to see him, she hid it well. ‘Are you by any chance talking to me, buster?’

‘Well – er – yeah.’

‘Then I would be grateful if you would have the coytesy to address me as “Miss Darling”, as befits my position of being a lady of class and distinction, ya dumb-ass.’

Indiana backtracked hurriedly. ‘Oh, sure, Ann … Miss Darling. Anything you say.’

There was a long pause while Indiana tried to catch Ann’s eye and Ann resolutely ignored him. At length, shuffling his feet, Indiana said, ‘You doing anything special tonight?’