Indiana Jones and the Dinosaur Eggs (6 page)

Shanghai, China
November 7, 1933

"I hate this place," Indy said sourly.

"The hotel or the city?"

"Shanghai," Indy said. "I always get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach when I'm here, and it's not just indigestion. Some places breed nothing but evil."

They were having breakfast in the restaurant lobby of the Cathay, the hotel where, three years earlier, Noel Coward—during a bout with the flu—had written the play
Private Lives
in less than a week.

"Come now, Jones," Granger said, lighting his pipe and pushing aside his empty breakfast plate. "What's not to like about the Whore of the Orient? Six million people jowl to arse. Inadequate sanitation and rampant disease. Gangsters, brothels, opium dens. A civil war about to break wide open while the Japanese Imperial Army regularly uses the city for bombing practice. I would think this would appeal to your American sense of adventure, Jones."

"I would appreciate it if you would have a little more respect for the city," Joan said. "Shanghai is also called the Paris of the Orient, and deservedly so. The evil that is here is a product of Western civilization, I'm afraid—not China."

Granger cleared his throat.

"Quite right," he said diplomatically.

Indy pushed his breakfast away and concentrated on his coffee. He was exhausted from spending three days in the cramped confines of an American cargo plane as it hopscotched across the Pacific toward China.

"You had better eat those eggs, Jones," Granger said. "It's the last decent food you'll get for some weeks. There are no Michelin guides or four-star hotels where we're going, my brown-eyed friend."

Walter Granger was an adventurer, big-game hunter, and veteran of several expeditions to Outer Mongolia before the borders were closed to foreigners. In fact, Granger had been a key figure in an American Museum of Natural History expedition to Mongolia that, in the 1920s, had discovered the very first dinosaur eggs known to science.

Although Granger was graying at the temples, he stood ramrod straight at six-feet, one-inch tall and there wasn't an ounce of fat on his tanned body. His only physical defect was a badly mauled right ear. He was dressed this morning, as he was every morning, in a khaki shirt with loops over the pockets for cartridges. His ever-present bush hat was also khaki, with a leopard-skin band taken from the cat that had chewed off most of his right ear. Granger wore the hat, even indoors, claiming that he could hear better with it on.

But beyond his obvious qualifications—and in spite of his idiosyncrasies—the real reason Granger had been asked to lead the expedition was that Indy trusted him. Years before, Granger had saved him from becoming the main course for a tribe of Polynesian cannibals by convincing them that blue-eyed foreigners were much tastier than the common brown-eyed variety—and setting them on the trail of a notorious Dutch slave trader named Conrad.

The tribe later thanked Granger for the tip.

Granger knocked out his pipe in an ashtray and dropped the stem in one of the cartridge loops over his breast pocket. Then he cleared the middle of the table and unrolled a map, using the salt-and-pepper shakers and Indy's coffee cup to hold down the curling edges.

"I laid out the route this morning while waiting for you to arrive," Granger explained. "It is subject to your approval, Jones, but I think you will agree it makes the most sense. From Shanghai we will travel by rail to Kalgan, where the tracks end at the base of the Shen Shei Mountains. From there, we will take a treacherous stretch of road that serpentines along the cliffs and leads to a gateway in the Great Wall at Wanshan Pass. That's roughly a thousand miles from here."

"Yes, I believe that is the route my father took," Joan said. "He said as much in one of the last letters I received."

"It is the only way in or out," Granger said. "The pass was used by caravans for a thousand years before Marco Polo saw it.... After gaining the plateau, we have a three-hundred-mile stretch called Desolation Road to the capital at Urga. There, it will be Indy's job to obtain the necessary permits from the Russian-controlled government. Otherwise, the expedition is over."

"I'll use my charm," Indy quipped.

"If all goes well to that point," Granger said, "we will obtain camels for our caravan from one of the many traders along the Urga Road. Then we will set out toward the west, and penetrate hundreds of miles into the Gobi. The desert is the haystack, and your father, Sister Joan, is the proverbial needle."

"But if luck is with us," Indy said, "we'll have gathered some clues along the way to guide us in the right direction."

"And if it isn't?" Joan asked.

"Hopeless is not strong enough a word," Granger said.

"Then I will pray for luck," she said.

A young Chinese man entered the restaurant, searched for Granger, came to the table, and handed him a handful of manifests.

"I'd like to introduce you to a rather capable fellow," Granger said. "This is Wu Han, a scholar and jack-of-all-trades who has helped to put the expedition together these last few days. Frankly, I told Brody that I didn't think I could do it. And I couldn't have if it hadn't been for Wu Han here."

Wu Han bowed to Joan, then shook hands with Indy.

"It has been a pleasure to help my American friends," Wu Han said in perfectly accented English. "I only hope that I can continue to be of service. Is this your first time in Shanghai? Perhaps I could arrange some entertainment."

"This is old hat for Dr. Jones," Joan said, "but it's my first time and I could use a bit of relaxation. I hate to miss an opportunity to explore a new city."

"There is plenty to sightsee," Wu Han said. "May I call for you this evening? Perhaps Dr. Jones would like to come as well. I understand from Mr. Granger that he is quite a fan of hot American jazz."

"Jazz?" Indy said. "Well, perhaps."

"Good," Wu Han said. "You may expect me at about six o'clock, if that is convenient. Mr. Granger, sir, is everything in order? May I be excused?"

"Yes, of course," Granger said, glancing over the manifests that Wu Han had brought. "Thank you."

Wu Han bowed.

"Trap you later," he said.

"Catch," Granger barked. "The phrase is 'catch you later.'"

"Of course," Wu Han said.

"Ah," Granger said. "Most of the equipment has been loaded onto the flatcars, with the exception of a special shipment that I had requested from our friends at the British arsenal. We are scheduled to leave at oh-five-hundred, and Brody's instructions made it clear that time is of the essence. No matter how good the jazz is, Indy, I suggest that you get some sleep tonight."

"Sleep." Indy sighed.

"Jones." Granger leaned conspiratorially toward Indy. "Brody's cable made it clear that this expedition's primary objective is to locate Professor Starbuck. But some of the equipment he has required does not seem to be useful, even tangentially. What do we need with several
quarts
of animal tranquilizer? I was prudent enough not to wire him back and ask what was going on, but now that I'm sitting across from you, I feel the time is right. Jones, what in hell is going on?"

"All I can tell you now," Indy said, "is that Brody is right when he says our mission is to locate Professor Starbuck. You're no fool, Granger. But don't ask me anything else until we are safely inside Mongolia."

"Funny pairing of words, that," Granger said.

"What?" Joan asked.

"Safe," he said, "and Mongolia."

Indy traced his finger along the path from Shanghai to Mongolia. Then he spread his hand, bridging the gap from Peking to the Shen Shei Mountains with his thumb and little finger.

"I would have preferred to launch this expedition from Peking," Indy said. "Now, there's a city I like. Clean, beautiful; friendly people. And it's closer to where we're going."

"That would bring us too close to the Japs for comfort," Granger said. "Since they've taken Manchuria—Manchuku, they call it—nothing in the north is safe."

"I'd prefer it if you would call them Japanese," Joan requested.

"Why?" Granger asked. "They call us worse. They have a name for us that means 'big feet and smells like hamburger.' They think even less of the Chinese and Koreans."

"If we are to expect the best from others, we should demand the best from ourselves," Joan asserted. "Besides, I'm sure that not all the Japanese feel that way."

"I'm sure you have a point, Sister," Granger said. "But I'm glad I won't have to put up with it all the way to the Gobi and back."

"What do you mean?" Joan asked, stiffening.

"You're staying here," Indy said.

"Why, that makes no sense at all," Joan protested. "Neither of you knows my father. You don't even have a recent photograph for reference. What if you overlook some important clue?"

"I'm sorry," Indy said, "but the Gobi is no place for a woman. There are things out there that you can't even begin to imagine."

"How do you know what I can begin to imagine?"

"Well," Indy said. "I just—"

"Look here," Granger interrupted. "Do you know what would happen if one of the local warlords got their hands on you? You'd be sold into white slavery quicker than you could say your Hail Mary, and there would be nothing we could do about it."

"You're not going to scare me into being a good little nun," Joan fumed. "The Catholic Church has been trying to do that for years and it hasn't worked, so why should you two hooligans think you can do it?"

Granger coughed and looked away.

"That must be some order you belong to," Indy said.

"Stop making jokes," Joan said, brushing tears away with the back of her hand. "Oh, I know what you're thinking now—you're thinking how weak I am, and how I cry at the drop of a hat. Well, let me tell you something. I'm not crying for me. I'm crying for
you
two because you're such Neanderthals."

Indy leaned over the map and jabbed his finger into the center of Mongolia.

"Urga," he said. "You go as far as Urga. And that's it."

If the patrons of the Lotus Eaters nightclub knew that Asia was poised on the brink of war, they did not show it. The well-dressed international crowd, Indy thought, was a microcosm of the rest of the world: they drank and dined and danced as if the party would never end.

Joan's habit had not raised a single eyebrow in the exotic cabaret, where the dance floor was crowded with the uniforms and noisy with the tongues of a dozen nations. The only Chinese faces in the crowd were those of the waiters, the jazz band, which tried fiercely but unsuccessfully to capture the Dixieland sound, and the club's proprietor, a round-faced gangster by the name of Lao Che. Despite Lao's rotund appearance, his hard eyes had a decidedly wolfish gleam.

Indy knew him by reputation, but had never met him.

"This is the busiest nightclub in Shanghai," Wu Han boasted. "All of the best people come here."

"If these are the best," Indy said, "I would hate to see the worst." He had been watching the steady stream of traffic past Lao Che's corner table, and noted with dissatisfaction the amount of money that had crossed the table. Set into the wall behind the table was a locked cabinet that held rows of jars; the majority were of stone, but a few were ornately carved ivory or jade.

"I'm sorry," Wu Han said, crestfallen. "Do you not care for the hot jazz? We could go somewhere else."

"The music is fine," Indy said. "Very good. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that what is going on at that table over there makes me very uncomfortable."

Wu Han's face grew serious.

"Lao Che is a very powerful man, Dr. Jones," he said. "It is better to pretend not to notice such activity. He holds Shanghai like this." Wu Han closed the fingers of his right hand into a tight fist. "I apologize if I have offended you by bringing you here."

"There is no need to apologize," Indy said easily.

"We will go," Wu Han said.

"No, of course not," Indy said. "Besides, it is very impolite to walk out when the band is in the middle of a number. We will stay for a few more songs."

"As you wish."

"Did you enjoy your visit to the Bund this evening?" Indy asked.

"Oh, yes," Joan said. "Wu Han is an exceptional guide."

"I agree," Indy said. "As a matter of fact, Wu Han is pretty exceptional at everything he does. He knows instinctively what must be done, and then does it. I don't know what Granger is paying you, but it isn't enough."

Wu Han bowed slightly.

"The honor of working with the great American archaeologist is pay enough," he said. "Also, Joan has been kind enough to correct my poor English."

"Your English is perfect." Joan laughed. "You just need some help with your idioms."

"Pardon my bluntness," Indy said, "but you
are
being paid?"

"My services have been acquired through an arrangement with my employer," Wu Han said.

"Your employer?" Indy asked. "Granger said you were a scholar. Do you teach at the university?"

"No," Wu Han said. "I was a student of political science, but before taking my degree, I was forced to leave for the sake of my honorable family."

"Well, money is sometimes difficult to come by, even for a scholar and a jack-of-all-trades," Indy said. "So you work for a local businessman."

"Yes." Wu Han's face brightened.

"Look," Indy said. "We need someone like you to make this expedition run smoothly, someone to ease the inevitable friction we will meet among the locals. You'll get paid, so you won't have to worry about your family, and when we get back I'll arrange it so that you can finish your studies... in America, perhaps."

Wu Han looked as if Indy had punched him in the stomach.

"What is it?" Joan asked.

"I am undeserving of such a generous offer," Wu Han said. "Although I am very grateful for your confidence in me, I am afraid that it is impossible for me to leave Shanghai."

"There is something you're not telling us," Indy said.

"Duty requires that I fulfill my obligations to my family and to my employer," Wu Han explained. "My prayers, however, will accompany you on your journey."