Read Indiana Jones and the Army of the Dead for Free Online

will know why, or you will not be drinking any more rum, you understand?” He waved the gun. “If I think you are lying again, I will shoot you dead, right here and now.”
    Henri didn’t go pale, but he certainly began to sweat. “It—it slipped my mind. Nothing of importance, monsieur, I swear!”
    “Let me decide that.”
    “The two men. Dr. Jones and McHale, they—”
    “Doctor Jones?”
    “They—they are, how do you say? Archéologues?”
    Archaeologists? Damn! This was unexpected and bad news.
    “And you told this to the Chinaman?”
    “Y-y-yes.”
    “What else?”
    “Nothing! Only that they had engaged a local woman and that they had left town today, driving south in an automobile, through the mountains.”
    “Gott im Himmel!”
    “Monsieur?”
    “All right, Henri, I believe you. I am going to let you live. Go on now, before I change my mind!”
    Henri relaxed and turned away—
    Gruber shot him in the back of the head.
    The noise was quite loud, it made his ears ring, but could be mistaken for a truck backfiring, and pinpointing the location would be difficult if anybody bothered to wonder. Most of the locals here wouldn’t turn a head to look at an erupting volcano if it might interrupt them dozing, eating, or drinking. Yes, the heat and all, but still, they made sloths look energetic. Haiti-time, they said when they were late for a meeting. It meant they got there when they got there. Clocks and watches were wasted here.
    Haiti-time. Uncivilized beyond measure.
    Quickly he climbed into his car and started the engine. He had to get to the airport and rent a plane. It would not do that Yamada was ahead of him. He also had to send a coded wire. He would need help, and there was a group of dedicated German soldiers in the Dominican Republic standing by, waiting for his order. They could meet him in Marigot in a matter of a couple of hours, perhaps less.
    Even so, he was behind, and he hated it. It would not do.
    As for Henri? He simply could not have been left alive to tell tales. Gruber wasn’t planning to return to this city or country ever again if he could help it, but, better that there weren’t any loose ends. He doubted if anybody really cared about the death of a ne’er-do-well like the late Henri anyhow . . .
    With any luck, in a week or two he would be on his way home, and in charge of a project that would give Germany the victory in this war. If he never saw a tropical country again, it would be fine by him.

SIX
    Terre Rouge, Haiti
    “W E ARE GOING to cross a couple of bloody miles of the Caribbean in that?”
    Marie looked at Mac. “Unless you would rather swim?”
    “No, I won’t be swimming in these waters, thank you.”
    Indy could see what Mac saw. The “that” in question was a boat, but it looked neither sturdy nor large enough to carry four people. Not much longer than the shark that had chased them ashore, the thing was open-topped, its wood lacking much in the way of paint or varnish. The outboard motor on the back looked like it would have been more at home on a sewing machine.
    Indy shook his head. Yeah, it was bad, but he had been in worse.
    “My cousin André has been fishing these waters for fifteen years in this bateau. It will get us there—unless a storm comes along.”
    Indy grinned. Well. There was one more thing to worry about, wasn’t there? This was the Caribbean, after all. Wouldn’t that be fun? The sky was free of clouds at the moment, but the tropics were volatile when it came to the weather.
    “It will only take a few minutes. You can see the island from here, look.”
    Indy had already spotted the place, a green blob on the sea less than two miles out.
    He looked at Mac.
    “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
    “I suppose.” To Marie, he said, “What about supplies? We can’t carry much in that.”
    “There is a store on the island. We can get what we need there.”
    Indy shrugged. “Fine. Let’s go.”
    “In a bit. André and I must first