Articoli correlati a Indiana Jones and the Dinosaur Eggs [Lingua Inglese]

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9780553561937: Indiana Jones and the Dinosaur Eggs [Lingua Inglese]
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Searching through Outer Mongolia for the missing Professor Angus Starbuck, who discovered a dinosaur bone of modern-day origins, Indiana Jones confronts the region's fiercest warlord and learns of a living triceratops. Original.

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L'autore:
Max McCoy is an award-winning journalist and author whose novels include The Sixth Rider and Sons of Fire. He lives in Pittsburgh, Kansas.
Estratto. © Riproduzione autorizzata. Diritti riservati.:

1

Dragon Bones

Princeton, New Jersey

Halloween 1933

Alone in his tiny office on the fourth floor of the Department of Art and Archaeology, Indiana Jones unscrewed the bottle of Scotch and regarded with contempt the pile of student papers and unanswered mail on his desk.

Outside, happy ghouls and goblins raced across the quad in search of new victims. But Indiana Jones's door was locked. He had even disconnected his telephone. He had a bellyful of superstition and did not want to be reminded that his belief in science remained unreconciled to his own bitter experience.

It had been a week since he felt like working, and as the stack of papers grew, the less he was inclined even to begin. Dragging himself to class every day had become an unendurable chore, and he had curtailed many of his lectures and substituted instead heavy reading assignments and guest lecturers. His students would have had cause for concern if his chief pinch hitter had not been Marcus Brody of the American Museum of Natural History.

Indy's routine now pivoted upon the arrival of the daily mail. Only then, as department secretary Penelope Angstrom handed him a new bundle each morning, did a glimmer of hope beat within his chest. Asking Miss Angstrom to shut the door on her way out, he would sort slowly through the letters without opening them. When he had finished he would sort through them again. Invariably, none were postmarked London.

The bottle of Scotch was the latest addition.

He had carried it back to his office and shut himself in this evening on the pretense of attempting to jump-start his flagging work ethic. He allowed himself a crooked smile as he imagined how his father, Professor Henry Jones, would react to this unpardonable breach of trust between a teacher and his pupils.

He poured some Scotch, swished the smoky liquid around in the glass, then raised it in a mock toast.

"Here's to you, Alecia," Indy said. "Or at least, your memory."

As he closed his eyes and brought the glass to his lips, there came a knock that was so soft that Indy was not sure that anyone was at the door. He paused, with the glass beneath his chin, and when the knock came again he shouted that the department was closed.

"I'm sorry," came a female voice. "But I'm looking for Dr. Jones."

Indy was relieved. Princeton was not coeducational, so it could not be a student seeking him out to demand what had become of this paper or that.

"Just a moment," he said, smoothing his hair and straightening his tie. He had almost made it to the door when he remembered the Scotch. He bounded back to his desk, recapped the bottle, and searched frantically for a place to hide it. Not a single desk drawer or file cabinet had enough space left. So he placed the bottle on the floor beside his chair, then snatched up the glass. He began to pour it into a potted plant beside the door, then stopped for fear it would kill the plant. In frustration, he tossed the contents down his throat and slammed the glass back onto the desktop.

"I'm Jones," Indy sputtered as he swung open the door. Then he coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Before him stood a woman in her middle to late twenties in a nun's habit. She stood stiffly, and her hands were folded over a paper sack in front of her. On the fourth finger of her left hand shone a golden band. At first Indy thought the habit was a Halloween costume, a prank that had been engineered to lift his spirits by one of his colleagues.

"Sorry, I don't have anything for your sack."

"I beg your pardon?"

When Indy saw the well-worn rosary that hung at her side, he knew he had made a serious mistake.

"I'm sorry," Indy said. "What can I do for you, Sister?"

"I apologize for disturbing you," she said. "I went to your home but found it dark, so I took the chance that you might be working late. I hope I am not imposing."

"Not at all," Indy said, feeling as if he were back in school. "That is, as long as you're not going to make me recite my Latin. Please, come in."

Indy removed a stack of books from a wooden chair and offered her a seat. When he returned to his own seat behind the desk, he inadvertently kicked the bottle of Scotch. It rolled beneath the desk and toward the center of the room.

"My name is Sister Joan," she said as the bottle came to rest at her feet. She picked it up and regarded the label. "Still celebrating the end of Prohibition? Personally, I could never stand the taste of this stuff--it was always like trying to swallow liquid smoke."

"It's not what you think," Indy said with a lopsided grin.

"Of course not," she replied, trying to find space on the desk to place the bottle. "Even the Lord enjoyed a bit of wine now and again."

Indy took the bottle from her and placed it on the windowsill behind him.

"Pardon me for intruding like this," Joan said. "I know of your reputation, and I have come here for help."

"Go on," Indy said.

Joan eyed him suspiciously.

"First, you should know that I'm being followed. Two cloaked figures dogged my trail to the very steps of this building, and I suspect they are still waiting outside. If you agree to help me, you may be placing yourself at a significant degree of personal risk."

"This is Halloween, Sister," Indy said. "There are people running about in all sorts of weird costumes."

"Yes, but these two men have been following me for more than a week. They ransacked my father's home in Connecticut, and I'm afraid they seriously injured our gardener when he got in the way. Broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know," Joan said. "You see, Dr. Jones, my father and I believe in the basic goodness of humanity. Such acts are impossible for me to comprehend. But it may have something to do with what I have in this sack, and because my father is Angus Starbuck."

"The paleontologist."

Indy could feel his head beginning to clear.

"Do you know him?"

"Of course. I met him while waiting for a train in Shanghai, and we passed a delightful hour talking about the dinosaur statues in Central Park. How is he?"

"Lost," Joan said. "Somewhere in the Gobi Desert. That is where this fossil came from, and it is what lured him to such a remote and dangerous land."

She opened the sack and withdrew an oddly shaped horn.

Indy took his glasses from his jacket pocket as Joan handed him the horn. It was more than a foot long, and nearly as broad at the base.

"Remarkable," he said as he studied it beneath the light of the desk lamp. He rummaged in a desk drawer for a magnifying glass.

"Tell me more about your father. When did he disappear?"

"Six months ago," Joan said. "The last letter I received from him was mailed from a place called Urga, in Mongolia."

"Outer Mongolia has been in a tug-of-war between the Russians and the Chinese for decades," Indy said. "Since the Communists took over in twenty-one, all foreigners have been suspected of being spies or saboteurs or worse. It is a difficult place to travel. Six months between letters could be considered normal for that part of the world."

"Or perhaps some warlord is torturing him for the location of more of these bones," Joan said. "The Chinese call dinosaur fossils 'dragon bones' and believe they have magical powers. Taken powdered, they are purported to cure everything from the common cold to lack of vitality in men. A cache of these fossils would be worth a fortune on the black market, Dr. Jones."

"Possibly," Indy said. "But it seems unlikely, Sister. You are mistaken about the nature of this piece. It's not a fossil."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not petrified. Bone gets preserved for many millions of years because of minerals that soak into the pores and gradually replicate the original in precise detail. But this specimen shows none of the characteristics of petrification; it is much too light and much too soft for that."

"So it's a fraud?"

"It's from a living animal," Indy said.

"What kind of animal?"

"I'm an archaeologist, not a zoologist. It would take an expert to say with any degree of certainty. But it would be my guess that it is from a rhinoceros."

"Then why would it excite my father so?"

"I don't know. But we can ask a friend of mine at the American Museum of Natural History. Tomorrow is Saturday, so I have no classes. Would you mind taking the train to New York with me in the morning?"

"Then you will help me?"

"With the bone, yes. In the meantime let's hope that a letter from your father is in the morning post. I think you'll find that we can solve this mystery in short order."

Joan nodded.

"Do you have a place to stay for the night?"

"I'm sure the Young Women's Christian Association will have adequate accommodations," she said cheerfully, although her eyes glanced away. "I believe it is just a few blocks down the street, and I'm sure a brisk walk will do me good."

"Sister, you look beat," Indy said. "Would you consider staying with a friend of mine tonight? Penelope Angstrom is our department secretary and I'm sure she would enjoy the company. Please allow me to telephone on your behalf, and if Miss Angstrom is agreeable, I'll take you over myself."

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  • EditoreBantam Books
  • Data di pubblicazione1996
  • ISBN 10 0553561936
  • ISBN 13 9780553561937
  • RilegaturaCopertina flessibile
  • Numero di pagine304
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